Lauren Landish

“I like lemon flavored Italian water ice the best.”

A small laugh leaves my lips in a huff. “Lemon?” I say with a smile.

She looks up at me, expectantly. It takes me a moment to realize what she’s waiting for. “Cherry. I think I prefer cherry.”

“Luna, thank you for sharing your days with me, and your nights. I hope to share a lifetime of them together with you as my wife. Will you marry me?”

“What?”

Carter. Freaking. Harrington. Kisses me. Right on the lips, like he has any right to.

“Of course, I’m sure she’d be thrilled to come.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to do this, but for someone like me, seeing those pieces is akin to a chance to hold the Holy Grail. I can’t say no.”

“He saw the woman he loved.”

“We are different,” I start, and I see her cringe, waiting for whatever she thinks I’m going to say. “But different can be good,” I finish. “I don’t really get why you cry when you see a painting or don’t always say out loud what you’re thinking, and I definitely don’t understand how you can get art from your brain out to the real world. It’s magic, it’s witchcraft, it’s something I absolutely can’t do.”

“Sure, yeah,” she says dismissively. “But people don’t want—”

“I wasn’t done. Last but not least, quit saying you’re not pretty or that this is unbelievable.” I use her earlier words so she knows I heard her. “You’re beautiful, and anyone who doesn’t see that is an idiot.” I don’t add that I was one of those idiots a few short days ago. “Any man would be lucky to call you his.”

But all I can focus on are Luna and her soft breathing.

The concern for her takes over, and I can feel my heart speed up. I should call her. Just to check if she’s okay. And on her way.

“Hey, babe. I was worried about you.” And then, right there in front of my family, I kiss Luna like I own her. Like she owns me—body, heart, and soul. It’s quick but impactful. My family holds their collective breath.