Page 124 of My Best Friend Is Broken

“Molly again?” I ask.

“He’s already found three potential venues and wants to schedule viewings for next week.” Liam laughs, shaking his head. “He’s relentless.”

“You love it.”

“I do,” he admits, still smiling at his phone.

I reach over and take his hand, bringing it to my lips to press a kiss against his knuckles, feeling the ring, my nonna’s ring, solid and real against his finger. A promise kept, a future claimed.

He looks over at me, and in the glow of passing streetlights, I can see everything we’ve survived reflected in his eyes. The pain and the healing, the fear and the courage, all the ways we’ve broken and rebuilt each other.

“What?” he asks softly.

“Nothing. Just thinking about us.”

“Good thoughts?”

“The best thoughts.”

He squeezes my hand, content with that answer, and turns back to his phone where Molly is probably sending him another dozen pictures of flower arrangements.

And as I drive through the city that shaped us, destroyed us, and ultimately gave us back to each other, I think about that night under the overpass when we were eighteen.When he was about to disappear into prison. When I ruffled his hair and said goodbye, not knowing it would be five years before I could touch him again.

But now he’s here. Alive and healing and planning our wedding with an enthusiasm that makes my chest tight with love.

Now we get forever.

His phone pings again, and he chuckles softly. “Molly just sent a link to a wedding fair that’s on New Year’s Day. Can we go?”

“Alright, dufus,” I say quietly, the words carrying the weight of everything we’ve been through to get here.

He looks at me, understanding flickering across his face as he recognizes the echo. His eyes go suspiciously shiny, but he’s smiling as he squeezes my hand again.

And driving through London on Christmas night with my fiancé beside me and our whole lives ahead of us, I know that whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.

Always.