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Epilogue 2

Conner's Point of View

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WHEN DO YOU KNOW THATsomeone is special?

When do you know there's something in the air, a tether, hooking you together?

Is it the thrumming in your chest?

The way your tongue starts to swell?

The fact your brain won't shut up about them in the middle of the night?

There exists person after person who you have onlysplinter-thinbits of information about. When do you know one of them is different than all the others? For me, it was the second I read a simple sentence:

I know what I want and I don't make concessions.

That's not normal. No one knows what they want. Sure, they think they do, then reality comes along and grips their eyelids, forcing them to see how naive they are.

It happened to me.

But here was this woman, proudly declaring sheknew what she wanted.More than that, she wouldn't give an inch for anything less. I was fascinated.

Maya Fontine... no.

Maya Whynn, my wonderful wife.

She was standing on the balcony outside our apartment. Her feet were bare, toes flexing as she stood as tall as possible to reach something just out of my view.

Her leggings clung to her thighs. I saw her smooth belly when her pink top rode upwards. My pants got uncomfortably tight, I adjusted myself with a bemused chuckle. She worked me up even when she wasn't trying to. I adored her.

I worshiped her.

She wobbled, frowning, and I had the sudden awful image of her tumbling backwards over the balcony to the city below. My muscles went tight as a drum. “Maya!” I gasped, running forward, sliding the glass door aside. “What are you doing?”

She stared at me with furrowed eyebrows. “Trying to look inside the birdhouse,” she said, going flat-footed. Dangling from the wall above the window was a bright yellow and white house, tiny enough for some sparrows to roost inside. She'd made it a few weeks ago with her grandfather. I remembered her asking me to hang it outside our place near the table I'd served her pancakes at.

“You look terrified, Conner.”

“I... thought you were going to fall.”

Maya laughed, gesturing at the shoulder-high railing. “I guess if I jumped on a trampoline I could manage that.”

She was right—I'd over-reacted. Rubbing my neck, I shrugged in defeat. “I panicked.”

“It's okay, you can still help me.” Maya held her arms out with a coy smile. “Use your mighty height, Mr. Hero.”

“Touch my wife and hold her close? Torture,” I groaned in faux exasperation. Gripping her hips, I flexed my shoulders and lifted Maya upwards. She felt good in my arms—I nuzzled her leg since it was eye-level.

“Easy, easy. Don't drop me.”

“Never.”

She put a hand on the wall, looking inside the birdhouse. “Ah... wow.”

“What do you see?”