Always and Forever, Lara Jean (To All the Boys I've Loved Before, #3)

by Jenny Han

I open the box and let out a gasp. It’s her pink diamond ring! The one from the veteran who lost his leg in the war.

“Hey just because you don’t remember something doesn’t mean I don’t. I remember a lot of things.”

It’s the kind of memory I like best—more of a feeling than an actual remembrance. The hum of a memory, blurry around the edges, soft and nothing particularly special, all kind of blending into one moment.

It feels like I’m in You’ve Got Mail, when Kathleen Kelly goes to meet Joe Fox in Riverside Park.

The Levain cookie is more like a scone, really dense and doughy. Heavy, too. It really is like no chocolate chip cookie I’ve ever tasted.

Finally I get to try Jacques’s famous chocolate chip cookie. I bite into it. This cookie is flat, chewy, dense. Chocolate has pooled on top and hardened! The butter and sugar taste almost caramelized. It’s heaven.

New York is truly a city of baked goods.

What could I bake this time of night that wouldn’t involve waiting for butter to soften? It’s a perpetual question in my life.

The thing is, you get used to it. Before you even realize it’s happening, you get used to things being different,

“Stormy taught me that love is about making brave choices every day. That’s what Stormy did. She always picked love; she always picked adventure. To her they were one and the same.

It feels good to say a proper good-bye, to have the chance.

“I like for things to feel special.”

This is why I like Peter so much. He sees things I don’t see.

Our booth, the one we always sit in, has pale pink balloons tied around it. There’s a round cake in the center of the table, tons of candles, pink frosting with sprinkles and Happy Birthday, Lara Jean scrawled in white frosting.

It’s funny how much of who we are as babies is who we are as we get older.

I guess that’s part of growing up, too—saying good-bye to the things you used to love.

Direct contact. The bread needs direct contact with the hot pan to get the right amount of crisp. That’s it. That’s the answer to my chocolate chip cookie problem.

Lucas can mock me for being nostalgic all he wants. I know these days are special. High school will be a time we remember the whole rest of our lives.

My gift from Trina is a vintage tea set—cream with pink rosebuds and rimmed in gold.

I’m graduating from high school today. It snuck up on me—growing up, I mean.

I’m a person who saves things. I’ll hold on forever.

THE AIR SMELLS LIKE HONEYSUCKLES and summer days that go on and on. It is the perfect day to get married. I don’t think there’s any place prettier than Virginia in June. Everything in bloom, everything green and sunny and hopeful. When I get married, I think I might like it to be at home too.