Page 114 of A Wish for Us

I cried. Chest wracking with my love for Cromwell Dean, the boy I met on the beach in Brighton. The boy I loved with my entire soul. The boy who had created a symphony just for me.

As the last note sailed into the air, cementing Cromwell’s place among the musical greats, the audience erupted. People jumped to their feet, applauding the genius that was Cromwell and his symphony.

A program fell to the floor in front of me. When I looked down, I saw the symphony’s title: “A Wish for Us.” And I smiled. I let the tears fall down my cheeks, exorcising the pain, the numbness, and my life without Cromwell.

Cromwell came to the center of the stage. Lewis held out his arm, presenting his son to the audience. The pride in Lewis’s eyes was almost my undoing. Cromwell took a deep breath, his eyes searching the crowd. I clapped and clapped, in awe of everything he was. The person he was and the sheer amount oflovehe inspired in me.

And then his eyes fixed on me. His hand moved to his chest and tapped over his heart, a shy smile on his face. Happiness filled my every cell. Cromwell bowed and left the stage. The applause lasted long after he’d gone, a testimony to the effect his music had on the people who let it into their hearts.

When the theater was clear, my mama pushed us backstage. My heart thundered in my chest as I smoothed my hands over my dress. Musicians moved around us, the adrenaline that was surging through them palpable.

And then we turned the corner, and I saw him.

Cromwell was at the end of the hallway, standing against the wall, eyes closed and taking deep breaths. His bow tie was loose and his shirt was open. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing his tattoos. “I’ll leave you two alone.” My mama’s footsteps faded away.

Cromwell opened his eyes. He startled when he saw me. He straightened off the wall, his chest rising and falling in rapid movements, and went to take a step forward, but I held out my hand for him to stop.

He did, and I took a deep breath.

I gripped the chair’s arms and pushed myself up. My feet shakily hit the floor…and the whole time, I never took my eyes off Cromwell. A proud smile lit up his face when I took a step toward him, my weak legs knowing they had no other choice but to carry me forward. Because they knew, as much as my heart did—I had to be with Cromwell.

He was our home.

My heart beat strong. And I made my way to Cromwell, remembering the symphony he’d created for me. And with every note I remembered, every flash of color that had given me a glimpse into his heart, I pushed on. I pushed and pushed, until I was out of breath…but I stood before him. I’d made it to him. I’d fought to get here. And I refused to quit now.

I looked up, and Cromwell’s shining eyes were fixed on me. “It was beautiful,” I whispered, my voice cracking.

“Baby.” Cromwell pushed his hand through my hair. I closed my eyes, the touch of him so, so welcome after so much time apart. And then his lips were on mine, as sweet and as perfect as I remembered them to be.

I felt him. Felt everything about this moment. When he pulled back, I stared into his eyes. “I love you,” I said, holding on to his wrists. His hands cupped my face.

“I love you too,” he breathed and closed his eyes. Like he couldn’t believe I was here. Like I was his dream come true.

Like I was his living, breathing wish.

When his eyes opened again, he said, “Come with me.” I nodded. He whisked me up into his arms and held me closely to his chest as he carried me to an elevator. When the doors closed, all I could see and feel and smell wasCromwell. I didn’t move my eyes from his. He seemed changed somehow. His shoulders had relaxed, and there was a light in his eyes that I’d never seen before. As if they had been injected with life.

When his eyes fixed on me, I could see nothing but love.

The doors opened, and fresh air whooshed around us. Cromwell didn’t put me down; he kept me in his strong arms and took me along what I saw was a roof terrace. A blanket of stars stared down at us, not a single cloud in the sky.

“Cromwell…” I murmured, feeling overcome at the sight. At everything tonight. At the music, the heartbeats, the symphony…and him.

Always him.

Cromwell sat down on a sofa in the center of a small rooftop garden. Water flowed around us, sounding like a tranquil river. Winter flowers of reds and greens in decorative pots surrounded us. It was like a glimpse of heaven. And when Cromwell held me tighter, it felt like coming home.

The rooftop was silent. Only the sound of the street below could be heard in the distance. I blinked up at the stars and wondered if Easton was up there, still tethered somehow to his heart…to me.

“It’s beautiful up here,” I said and finally turned to Cromwell.

Cromwell was already watching me. He looked at me like I was a gift he couldn’t believe he’d received. My chest expanded, letting in more love for him than the minute before. I hadn’t been sure that was possible.

“You came,” he whispered, and my pulse fluttered in my throat.

“I came.”

Cromwell leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was slow and gentle and held a simple promise—that it wouldn’t be our last. When he pulled back I let my forehead fall to his. I breathed in the scent of him and let it inside my body with peace. I felt my lip quiver, but I pushed through the swell of my emotions to say “I want to live.”