“Probably my favourite night of my life up to then—” “And then after that?” “Dartmouth and the lock.” Beej nods his head towards my stomach. “And then probably us at the tree last year—” “Are all your favourite nights with me?” I ask him. “Yeah.” He nods without thinking. “Why? What are yours?” With him. Of course with him. All my best nights, all my worst ones, all are with him and I wonder if this is the point. This is what I’m swimming towards: not just in love with him but a whole wonderful, terrifying, beautiful, painful life with him. I purse my lips. “I love the ones you said. I loved
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