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“Why did you actually ask me to come?”

She shrugs. “Just that.”

I shake my head. “No. You could’ve texted. I didn’t need to come all this way for you to tell me that, so why don’t you tell me why you really asked me to come over.”

Her lips pinch together like she’s trying to stop herself from sharing the real reason. Then, her mouth slowly opens. “My list.”

I want her to look at me. I want to see her brown eyes. “What about it?”

She tilts her head, overthinking again. She takes a deep breath. “I tried to write something next to my own name, and I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I think I’m focusing on everyone else because then I don’t have to think about myself. I thought I was okay with it all, but the truth is I’m scared.” That’s when she finally looks up at me. “I’m scared of dying.”

I didn’t know it was possible for Margo to be afraid of anything. She’s fearless, bold, a force to be reckoned with, and yet here she is, vulnerable and on the verge of tears.

“I told myself I was keeping my secret to live a normal life for a little longer, but if I’m being honest, I just didn’t want it to be true. If everyone else knows, then I won’t be able to pretend like it isn’t happening.”

The gap between us is small. My nerves are on edge, hoping she’ll accidentally brush her arm against mine. LikingMargo is a definite heartbreak. She can’t change her circumstances. She’ll leave me even if she doesn’t want to. She has no choice. That should be reason enough to distance myself, but instead, I find myself wanting to inch closer to her. I want to wrap my arms around her and pull her into a hug, let her know that it’s okay to feel the way she does. Margo has spent so much time caring about other people, shouldn’t someone do the same for her? Isn’t it her turn?

We’re quiet, not speaking for a few minutes. I’m trying to think of how to respond, and whether or not I can be the person Margo needs. I’m nobody.

Our silence is broken by her sniffling back tears.

“Sorry,” she says, rubbing her wet cheeks. She forces a smile, but it isn’t big enough to hide her pain. Her watery eyes lock with my heavy stare, and her smile disappears. Her bottom lip wobbles, and her shoulders shake with her sobs. “I’m really scared,” she says, voice cracking.

It’s like a knife twisting in my chest. I hate seeing her cry. Her mascara streaks down her face as the tears pave their way to the tip of her nose and fall onto her dress.

“Let me help you,” I whisper.

Margo frowns, glancing down. She shakes her head.

With a timid hand I wipe away one of the black streaks under her eyes. Her skin is smooth and perfect, and my hand is on fire. It’s the way I’d imagined it would be. “Let me help you live.”

Margo’s ears turn pink. “I can’t.”

“Yes you can. Everyone deserves at least one adventure in their lifetime.” I think I might forget how to breathe, and my pulse spikes. “Let me be yours.”

I can only imagine what’s going through her head. All the people she’s trying to please. Annie.

My stomach ties itself in knots with each passing second as I wait for her reply.

“Okay,” she says, smiling.

My heart is beating so fast, I swear it’s about to jump out of my chest.

So what if she’s dying? She isn’t dying right now, and I tell myself that’s the only thing that matters.

She wipes her eyes and clears her throat. “We better head inside. Everyone’s waiting to meet you.”

“What?” My eyebrows shoot up.

She laughs and stands up. “It’ll be fine. Trust me.”

I follow her inside, and as I’m taking off my shoes, a tall man who I assume is Margo’s father comes into the entryway. His hair is thinning a little at the sides, and he’s dressed like he’s about to go golfing—white pants, tucked-in polo shirt.

I gulp.