Page 117 of Wish You Were Her

She burst out laughing and playfully slapped him on the shoulder. “I’m working on it!”

“Let’s go then,” he said, clasping her hand with a firmness that promised he would not go anywhere, as long as she wanted him around. “I’ll make you something to eat when we’re home.”

Home. For the first time to Allegra, it really did have the potential to be that.

They fled the cinema, sending Grace and Jasper a message to explain, and grabbed a cab once they were safely concealed in a back alley outside. They made out in the back of the taxi in a way that obviously annoyed the driver, as he eventually cleared his throat in a disapproving manner.

When they were alone in the darkened apartment, they danced slowly to music on Jonah’s phone and Allegra felt, for the first time in years, like all the pieces of her were collectively assembled into one peaceful place. There was no division. No wishing that some parts were awake while others were stretched thin. She was thrillingly and miraculously all in one place, in one moment, with one person.

“You technically broke up with me tonight,” Allegra said, as they swayed to “Downtown Train” by Tom Waits. “I read your lovely email before I went onstage.”

“I did not break up with you,” smarted Jonah, which made Allegra laugh. “I broke up with the invisible person who had weirdly started avoiding questions about her age.”

Allegra screamed at that, as he eyed her accusingly. Amusement lit up his face.

“Look,” she said, still laughing, “I had to see if you really likedmeor just some imaginary person on the other end of an email chain.”

“I’m glad that while I was pining and lost and feeling guilty, you were playing games.”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“I liked the you I was speaking to before you realized I wasn’t Simon. And I love you. The pain in my ass from the bookshop.”

Allegra smiled. “Good. Ditto.”

She rested her head against his shoulder while they moved.

“I don’t know how you do your job,” he said quietly. “All those people, all of those opinions.”

“Well, you can’t ask people what they think. Or look it up. Someone gave my performance on IMDb one star once because they said I looked like someone who was mean to them once.”

“Excellent criticism.”

“It’s not my business what people think of me. Especially now, people treat art like it’s dishwasher liquid they ordered and didn’t like. ‘Didn’t meet expectations, wanted something else,’ et cetera. It’s not real. Only the work is real.”

“I’m noting all of this before entering the publishing industry.”

“I fear for the authors who will have to put up with your notes, Jonah Thorne.”

He smirked and then grew serious. He stared at her with eyes full of so many unspoken thoughts, all she could do was hold his face in her hands.

“I know,” she said gently. “I know, baby.”

“It’s like…” He looked at her with incredulity. “It’s likecoming home. Like I’ve been walking on some barren, empty planet and I’ve not been able to see through the toxic haze. And then suddenly, there you are. And you’re everything.”

Allegra smiled, feeling wetness on her lashes. “You’re like me.”

He kissed her, a long languid one that made everything all right and then pressed his mouth against the place where her neck met her shoulder.

“Jonah?”

“Yeah?”

“This is so much better. So much better than everything I ever saw on a screen.”

“I know.”

And it was.