Page 65 of The One

“Not just any park. The park where we had our first meetup.”

He smiled. “One day soon, when your parents are no longer controlling how late you stay out and where you spend the night, I’ll take you to Italy, and you can compare the meals.”

“Italy?” My brows rose high.

“My father has a hotel in Rome, and we went last summer. It’s gonna blow your mind how sick that city is.”

“I’m sure that would be incredible. Really. But so is this, Rhett.” I reached for his hand. “In my mind, this is as good as Italy.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

I turned toward him, knowing the food was getting cold, but I needed to get this out before I even considered putting any of it in my mouth.

“I dreamed of this, you know. Of being in a place like this with you. Of getting to hold your hand and kiss you. Of giving you things I’ve never given anyone else.” The shyness was creeping through me, and I was thankful it was dark and there was only candlelight and city lights so he couldn’t see how red I was getting. “And those dreams have now come true. And it’s getting even better because I get to go to college with you.” I took a breath, the emotion building in my eyes. “I just feel so lucky that this has worked out better than I could have ever imagined. And the best part is, I get to tell youI love you. Every day, if that’s what I want.”

“And every day, I get to show you how much I love you.” He leaned closer to my face. “I was going to wait until after we ate to reveal my next surprise, but I don’t know if I can.”

“What is it? I’m dying!”

He kissed me and sat up straight again. “When I was a kid—we’re talking eight or nine—I overheard a fight between my parents. It was a bad one, and even then, I knew their marriage was done. I left them downstairs and went up to my room. I was listening to music when my dad came in and sat on the bed with me.” He ran his hand over the top of his head. “He looked defeated. Tired. For a kid who knew nothing at that age, I knew what I saw. And what he said to me that night was something I never forgot. He said, ‘Rhett, you are my why.’”

Rhett’s head dropped, and it seemed like at least a minute passed before he lifted it and began talking again.

“It took a while before I knew what that statement meant. Freshman year, I got hints of it when I met you. The happiness you made me feel, the way my stomach tightened whenever I thought about you. But since you’ve been back, I’ve understood it on a whole different level, and Dad’s statement makes perfect sense to me.”

He cupped my face. “Lainey,youaremywhy.”

His lips met mine and stayed there, softly kissing me, and when he pulled away, he undid a few more buttons of his shirt—the top was already unbuttoned—and he slipped his arm out, extending it horizontally to show me the inside. He picked up the candle and held it near his skin, where words were tattooed from his armpit to his elbow.

You are my why, Lainey.

My heart exploded as I read the words again and again.

My name is really inked on his body?

He loves methatmuch?

I’m his why?

“Rhett, oh my God.” I wrapped my fingers around the tattoo, curious if it would feel different, if the ink would have texture. I learned that the black words were as smooth as his skin. “I’m obsessed with it and in shock and losing my mind over this. It’s everything.” I gently traced the letters. “When did you get it?”

“Last week. That’s why I’ve been wearing long-sleeved shirts to school. I wanted it to heal a bit before you saw it.”

“I can’t believe you did this. For me.” I slowly glanced up at him, and even though his eyes were dark from the night, I could feel the intensity of his stare. “I love it. I love you. So much.”

He slipped his arm back into his shirt. “There’s something else.”

“No.” I put my hand on his chest. “There can’t be. This is all more than enough.”

He laughed as he reached into his pocket, pulling something out that he held in front of me. “Happy eighteenth birthday, Lainey.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.” He set a box on my hand. “Now, open it.”

The box was wrapped in paper, the bow on top flattened because it had been in his pocket.

“Open it,” he repeated.