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Eli picks it up so we can both see it better. “You’re a star, Reese,” he says, as on screen, my face is tilted up to the light. “We all know it. You just need to see it too.”

I look so happy. I hardly recognize myself, and yet at the same time, it’s like watching my own heart performing. Like something out of a long-lost fantasy I’d locked away for so long I didn’t know I could still imagine it, let alone do it.

Last night felt like a happy blur, but this—this. This is real.

“I look like my calendar,” I say finally, tears in my eyes.

Eli laughs, but he’s nodding. “Yes, baby. You’re one of them.”

When I see the number of views on the video, I feel faint. Over a million people have seen it, and it’s only—I check the time—nine in the morning.

Once I feel steady enough on my feet, I swallow hard, thrusting my phone at Eli. “I need a minute.”

He nods, giving me space. “I’ll make some food.”

I go into the bathroom, locking the door, which is ridiculous, so I unlock it again. I turn on the shower, but when I get in, I’m not sure if I can stay on my feet, so I sit down. Then I lay down on my back, closing my eyes, trying to concentrate on the feel of the shower hitting my skin.

Part of me is furious with Eli. But the anger has no legs. He did this for me. Or at least, he opened the door for me.

Everyone else came rushing in.

But Eli saw past my baggage and into my heart. He knew what I wanted. He’d seen me look at that calendar.

He’d heard me sing. I look down at my wrist, where the words he wrote last night are still on my skin, albeit blurring now.

Show them everything.

“Eli!” I cry.

Eli comes banging in a half second later, Rufus barking on his heels. “Reese! Are you okay?”

I realize he probably thinks I fell, and I laugh. And then I’m laughing and crying, and Eli’s on his knees next to the tub, holding onto my arms as I cry into his shoulder.

Rufus licks my forehead, and I tuck it into his neck.

“You’re getting wet,” I whisper.

“I didn’t notice,” he says, but that only makes me laugh more, because his hair is dripping, water running down his cheeks into his scruffy beard.

Then he’s grinning too, that mega-watt grin that has my whole heart. Rufus grins next to him.

“Will you stay with me?” I ask.

Eli meets my eye, then nods, telling Rufus to sit, which he does, obediently, on the bathmat.

Then Eli climbs into the tub, jeans and all.

I laugh, incredulously. Because of course he’s taking me literally. But he knows—I know he knows I mean stay after this. Through this. Through whatever comes after.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, scooping me up and holding me tight. “I’m right here.”

“Eli,” I say against his chest, the light hair there tickling my cheek.

“Yes, baby.”

I sit up, then jerk the shower curtain closed, as if Rufus cares.

“Show me,” I say suddenly. Urgently.