The Book of G

by Lily Archer

how do you know all this? Just from books?” I can’t imagine some paper with confusing letters shat all over it could be this helpful.

“You do this to me. Only you. I can’t fucking explain it. Ever since I saw you, I mean really saw you as you are, not as you pretended to be—”

“It made you cry.” She turns her head sharply. “What?” “I wanted to kill it, so I did.” “Because it made me cry?”

“I was thinking ‘morally gray’ but you’re more like a midnight abyss.” She mutters something under her breath, ending with the word ‘wicked.’

“By the time we’re through with this trip, you’ll understand there’s no amount of wickedness I wouldn’t do for you.”

“Just tell me what you want, Charlie. Tell me and I’ll burn down heaven and earth to give it to you.”

“Are you always so surface on everything?” She smirks. “Yes, yes you are. I don’t even know why I asked.”

“Why are you so, so maddening? You know what? Never mind.”

Getting under her skin has become my favorite pastime

She presses against my palm, sending my heart soaring to places it has no business being. Taking a deep breath, she simply stares back at me, her beautiful eyes watering. It’s a conversation without words, a comfort taken and given.

“I want to know everything about you, down to the very last boring bit. I’ll even let you tell me things you read in books or silly notions like that.” I smirk. “I’ll listen to whatever you say, just talk to me.”

“I love you. Don’t you know that? I don’t think I’ve ever loved anything other than myself. I don’t remember how I used to be, but somehow, I know that’s true. At least it was, until you. I feel like maybe I’d been empty, like whatever life I had before was only a buildup to this. To you and me. I can’t explain it, but I know this is real, this is where I’m meant to be, because it’s where you are. I’d follow you anywhere, Charlie. I’d do anything to keep you safe, to make you happy.”

I can’t get enough of her. Not her mouth, her body, her clever fucking mind. I can’t live without her. I know that now.

I watch, notice the way she eats her food, the way she drinks her wine, the way she speaks to others at the table. She fits here, but she also fits with me. I know she does. Our time together was just as true as all this.

“But she doesn’t love me.” Fuck. Why does saying it out loud gut me?

I’m not enough. Because I’m broken and an oaf and wicked—everything she’s ever accused me of. She was right.

I think that’s what the old me would do. I wouldn’t give her a choice. I’d just take what I wanted. But I’m trying to be better. She’s made me better. And as much as it fucking destroys me, I have to let her choose her happiness. Even if it doesn’t include me.” I swallow the lump in my throat, forcing the emotion away. “Because I love her.”

I know I’m a monster. But what if I can prove to her I’m someone she can be proud of? Then I won’t have to let her go.

I don’t care if I don’t deserve her. I want her, and I’ll gut anyone who comes between us.

Sharing pain doesn’t make it hurt less, but it soothes the frayed ties between two souls.

“You saved my life.” I grip the nape of her neck and pull her back to me. “From the moment I met you.”

Who I was doesn’t matter. It’s who I am now that defines my life, my legacy.

With the memory of our lives together, and with our love as my only identifier, the truth of it stitched into my soul.