Page 143

"Nothing," I tell him. "I'm okay. Um, actually…do you know when his birthday is?"

"No, I'm sorry, baby. I don't."

"Yeah, okay. Thanks." After kissing him, I return to my spot, stretched out across the back of the boat between Luca's legs. I try to smile because I am better than just okay—Iamhappy. No one gets everything they want, and I have so much to be grateful for.

I used to think I was incapable of love, but the truth was I just hadn't met anyone yet who was capable of loving every part of me—that I could show myself to. Now, I've done it over and over again.

After a couple of drinks, I show him my backstroke.

And Declan makes River put on a life jacket because she still can't swim.

We stay out until the sun sets, and when we get home, I take that annotated copy ofThe Picture of Dorian Grayto my room, flip through it, and let myself miss him. Hazel prints out a picture of the baby for me, and when I get tired, I crawl into Luca's bed.

"Hey, wifey," he says, wrapping his arms around me.

"Hi, baby."

He presses a kiss to my lips and closes his eyes, instantly falling asleep.

And I'm okay. I haven't hurt anyone, and I've only really wanted to a couple of times. Most days, my mangled insides feel whole. I have a place and a purpose, and I'm free. I'll never have to be alone, and the world has color again. We got away with it, and we'll never get caught—not even by Death—for a very, very long time.

Andthatis fucking poetry.