Chapter 56
Iwake up alone. The bed feels too big, even though it’s an oversize twin and I’ve complained the opposite in the past.
For a few frantic seconds, I think it was all a dream. But then I roll over, and something stiff scrapes my cheek. I reach up, grabbing and squinting at the piece of paper. A smile spreads across my face as I scan the familiar handwriting.
She wrote I love you on every line except the last one, which reads, Breakfast run. Be back soon.
I grin stupidly at the note for a few minutes, then climb out of bed, pull on some shorts, and head toward the bathroom. Not even stubbing a toe on my thick physics textbook—one of the required courses for my naval architecture and marine engineering major—dims my mood.
I’m brushing my teeth when I hear the distinctive beep and click of the door unlocking. Quickly, I spit and stash my toothbrush before walking back into my room.
She’s wearing the same jeans from last night with a faded sweatshirt of mine that falls to mid-thigh, blonde hair pulled up in a messy bun.
She shuts the door with her hip, hands clutching my ID card, two paper bags, and a cardboard drink tray.
She glances at my empty bed, then finds me standing in the doorway.
I grin. “Hey.”
Wren scowls, tossing my student ID on my desk. “What are you doing? Get back in bed.”
I arch a brow. “Good morning to you too. I can’t believe you woke up before me.”
“I’m still on Italian time,” she replies, walking over to the bed and setting everything she’s holding down on the table next to it before yanking the elastic out of her hair. “I wanted to have breakfast together, not at the dining hall.”
“I warned you the food wasn’t great.” I walk up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and resting my chin on the top of her head. Just wanting—needing—to touch her.
Wren laughs, reaching into one of the bags. “That’s not why I wanted to eat here.”
I grin, taking the box of condoms she pulled out and tossing them on the unmade bed. “You went to the pharmacy? How long have you been up?”
“A couple of hours. I talked to my mom too.”
I take a seat on the edge of the mattress, reaching for the other bag. It’s stuffed with pastries—two muffins, a croissant, a cinnamon bun, and a bagel. “How’s your mom?”
“Good. She’s in Amsterdam, at a conference.”
I nod, unfazed. Wren’s parents seem to travel as much as she does. Maybe more.
“You went to Tandem Coffee?” I ask, reading the label on one of the cups.
“Yeah. You’ve been there before?”
“A couple of times. It’s good.” I grab a cup, take a sip, then swallow fast, fighting the urge to spit it out.
She grabs the other cup and holds it out to me. “That’s mine. I got you black.”
“Thanks.” I grab it and take a long swig, washing away the other flavors. “What did you get?”
“Lavender latte with oat milk and an extra shot of espresso. Is it good?”
“If you like what lavender and oat milk taste like, probably.” I swallow more plain coffee.
“I do. The cashier recommended it. And gave me a free cinnamon bun.”
“Let me guess. The cashier was a guy.”
Wren sets her drink down, so I do the same. One knee lands left of my thigh, and then she’s fully on my lap, arms draped over my shoulders.
“I didn’t think you’d get jealous after we were dating,” she tells me, a small smirk on her face.
“So, he wasn’t flirting with you?”
Wren shrugs one shoulder. “He wrote his number on the bag.”
“Cute.”
She nods. “It would have been an adorable meet-cute, if I didn’t already have a boyfriend.”
I manage a smile, but Wren sees straight through it.
“Are you actually jealous? Because I don’t even remember his name—”
“No. I’m not. I-I woke up, and you weren’t here, and …
there was a part of me that was always convinced this would never happen.
And … I’m scared it’ll—concerned something will fuck it up.
Me, specifically.” I rub my palms against her thighs.
“I’m not jealous of some random guy, although I’m never going to like it when you get hit on.
I’m worried you’re going to realize winding up with a guy without a passport isn’t what you want. ”
Wren leans closer, until our foreheads are almost touching. “Do you know why I sent you that first letter?”
“Because you wanted to pass English?”
“Not even a little bit. Because I thought I’d never see you again.
And if I didn’t, I wanted you to have some reminder of me.
Because I wanted you then, and I want you now, and there won’t ever be a time when I don’t want you.
Also, your lack of a passport is, A) irrelevant, and, B) easily fixed.
If you want to travel, that is. I’ve gone to a lot of cool places, and this is my favorite spot—wherever you are.
I’ve never been sure about anything the way I’m sure about you.
I don’t make up fake hookups for just anyone, you know. ”
I tighten my hold on her hips. “Not funny.”
“Any other response to my romantic speech?”
I smile. “I love you.”
“Better.” She brushes my hair off my forehead. I’m about to kiss her when she adds, “My mom wants to meet you.”
“I’ve met your mom,” I say stupidly.
“Pretty sure she was thinking you’d stay for a meal this time. And that my dad would be there too. And that I would be conscious.”
“Right.”
“They’ll both be in the Hamptons for Rory’s graduation party. My mom said you’re welcome to come to the party … and suggested dinner after.”
“Right,” I repeat. Suddenly, that’s the only word in my vocabulary.
Wren studies me. “They’ll like you.”
“You think so, huh?” I ask dryly.
“I know so. As far as parents go, mine are pretty great. They want me to be happy, and you make me very happy.”
“Not just not sad?”
“Not just not sad,” she says, playing with my hair. “Also, if you’re coming to the party—”
“If you want me there, I’ll be there.”
She smiles, but then it becomes nervous. “My grandfather will be at Rory’s party. And I’ll talk to him beforehand, but he might be mad I broke our deal and say something to you anyway, so …”
I frown. “What deal?”
Wren exhales. “A lot of people consider my grandfather to be really important. My dad replaced him as CEO of Kensington Consolidated a long time ago, and now my uncle and cousin are part of the company, but Grandpa’s still sort of in charge in a lot of ways.”
“Okay …” I say, having no idea where this is going.
“The night you got caught out in that storm, I called my dad to see if he knew anyone who could help. Dusty was trying … but he wasn’t getting through to anyone. My dad didn’t answer, so I called my grandfather.”
I tense. Still confused, but somehow knowing I won’t like what comes next.
“He knew about the fight you got into at Lucky’s—the lawyer Rory had called told him—and he was never happy about me picking a public university. So, he said he’d make sure you got rescued … if I ended things with you and went to a college he approved of.”
I stare at her, stunned. “Like Cambridge?”
“Yeah.” She nods. “Exactly like Cambridge.”
“What the fuck, Wren?”
She shrugs a shoulder. “I didn’t know what else to do.
If I hadn’t agreed and something happened to you, I never would have forgiven myself.
I didn’t care that much about where I went to college.
You know I was unsure about going at all.
And us … I knew how hard leaving you at the end of the summer was going to be, no matter where I was headed.
I thought me leaving sooner might be for the best. An attempt at a clean break instead of the back-and-forth we’d been in for so long. ”
“You should have told me. You should have asked me.”
“You weren’t there!”
“After. The next day, when I came over and you were packing.”
“I’d already decided then.”
I exhale.
“I don’t want to keep rehashing the past, Sawyer. I want to move forward, together. I only told you so you’re not blindsided if it ever comes up and because I wanted to be completely honest with you.”
“Completely honest? That’s everything?”
Wren nods decisively. “That’s everything.”
“That’s what you said last night.”
“I hadn’t decided if I was going to tell you about it,” she confesses.
I’m still shocked. But this revelation answers questions I’ve wondered about for a while—why she suddenly changed her mind about us, why she swapped schools so close to starting freshman year.
I’m not happy she did any of it, but I am touched—flabbergasted—that she was willing to go to such extremes, especially knowing how stubborn she can be.
It soothes some of the fear that history might repeat itself.
That I’m more invested in us than she is.
That we’ll always be tenuous and I’ll always be waiting for it to fall apart again.
“I’m glad you told me.”
“Yeah?” She looks relieved.
“Yeah. I wish you’d told me three years ago, and I can’t believe you’d—”
She kisses me.
I kiss her back for a few seconds. Then ask, “What if they don’t like me?”
“My parents?”
I nod.
“They will.”
“But what if they don’t? Didn’t your grandfather tell them why I needed a lawyer? If they tell you to break up with me—”
“My parents would never do that.”
“Your grandfather did.”
“And they were furious he’d interfered. I asked them not to get involved, that it was our deal, but Mom told me my dad chewed Grandpa out over it.
Told him he’d never be around me or Rory if he ever pulled anything like that again.
Trust me, no one will interfere. And even if they did, I’d choose you.
What happened was my way of choosing you.
I know it didn’t seem that way to you, but it was. ”
Wren kisses me again, biting my lip gently.
“I like nibbling when you do it,” I murmur and feel her laugh vibrate against my lips.
Wren lies down first, using my chain to pull my mouth within reach, just like she did the first time we kissed. I remember that precise moment so clearly, like my brain knew, even then, to pay especially close attention to every detail.
In the quiet room, all I can hear is our increasingly rapid breathing, the friction of our lips … and her stomach grumble.
“Hungry?” I murmur.
“No.” Her hands are coasting across my back urgently, like she’s trying to touch all of me at once. “Don’t stop.”
I lift most of my weight off her so I can pull her sweatshirt—my sweatshirt—higher. “You never gave the last one back.”
“I’m keeping this one too,” she informs me.
“Fine by me.” I reach into the pastry bag by her head.
Wren’s mouth opens in outrage. “Are you seriously …” Her voice trails when I swipe some frosting from the cinnamon bun, then smear it across her stomach.
She moans when I lick it off her, then unbutton her jeans and tug them down, followed by her underwear, flinging both toward Wesley’s side of the room.
I kiss my way back up her thigh, just to tease her a little more.
But honestly, I’m more impatient than she is.
Not only because it’s been nine months or because this will be our first time as an official couple, but because I’m the only one who has ever seen Wren like this.
I did a shitty job conveying to her last night how learning that made me feel.
I was stunned she wanted her first time to be with me. The fact that she wanted all her times to be with me … I can’t describe how knowing that feels, even to myself.
“Sawyer …” She wiggles under me, trying to get me to move faster. Shoving at my shorts with her feet.
Maybe we’re equally eager.
“What?”
“You know what.”
I push the hoodie a little higher. “Do I?”
“Yes. Fuck me.”
I grin, shoving more fabric up her chest. Then realize, “Are you wearing nothing under this?”
“I couldn’t find my bra and was trying to be quiet. Can you critique my fashion choices later?”
“No. Because you’ll be naked later and we’ll still be in this bed.”
She smiles. “Promise?”
I flip the hoodie over her head, tugging it out from under her and letting it slip off the side of the mattress.
Finally, we’re both naked, nothing but warm skin pressed against each other. “I’ll promise you anything, Wren Kensington. Anything I have, it’s yours.”