It’s clear I need a better plan than just telling Gabi she’s mine forever. I look around at the books around me, cheap, mismatched bookshelves stacked and stuffed with paperbacks and hardcovers, a rainbow of colors and textures but all containing a story. A story of a couple who was meant to be, who fell for each other, and, from what I know of what Vivi used to read, get their fairy tale ending. This is what Gabi wants. She wants the fairy tale ending. She wants the lead chasing her at an airport and the boombox outside the window. She might be rainbows and butterflies and chaos and, in a
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