Left of Forever (Spunes, OR, #2)

by Tarah DeWitt

I grew up with my great love, so I think maybe my heart took shape around his.

I miss you, too sounds glib. You have been missing from me is more accurate. There’s a void where you lived in me.

“All I know is that if I found out heaven was real and got there first? I’d hang back in the waiting room and save you a seat.”

She’s kissing me. Her lips are on mine after five long years. Five hundred years. She’s kissing me. I’m home.

Because you make up half of my soul. Because as desperate as I am to be near you, to be inside you, I’m terrified that having you this close again will also remind you of all the parts of me you wanted to leave.

And then I kiss her. I kiss her because there’s no glass or walls or miles between us right now. Just her and her glowing skin and her full lips that taste like sweet, bright grapes. I kiss her because she’s kind and clever and so pretty it takes my breath away. She’s mine and I’m hers, and all my life’s greatest happiness can be traced back to her, so I kiss her because I want to, and forget the rest.

I’m begging you to fight with me, do anything with me. Just be with me.”

“We have whatever’s left of forever, you and me.”

If you’re lost, I’ll find you. I’ll give you my body, my heart, and my soul. I’ll cherish every bit of yours in return. I’ll fight with you. I’ll fight for you. I’ll love you for everything left of forever, in every lifetime we get.

At sunrise, we’ll take Bud and Hope on a ride. We’ll make plans and we’ll tease. We’ll flirt and we’ll fight. One day, when we’re very old and gray, one of us will open our eyes to a day that the other won’t, but we’ll smile knowing how full life has been, knowing how we spent forever. Everything left of it, together.