Chapter 32
Tilly
The flight home feels suspiciously short, like time has folded in on itself.
Maybe because I spend most of it curled up against Luca’s shoulder, drifting in and out of sleep while he hums some random tune—probably made up on the spot—soft and low like a lullaby only I got to hear.
His hoodie smells like sunshine and cinnamon, and every time I stir, he squeezes my hand like he is anchoring me to the moment.
When we land, it feels weirdly bittersweet.
Paris already feels like a dream we woke up from too soon, like we blinked and the cobblestone streets, buttery croissants, and midnight kisses under low-lit bridges have vanished into memory.
But when reality comes crashing back in the most chaotic, wonderful way, I have no complaint.
The whole team is standing in the waiting terminal, and Yana shrieks when she notices us.
Matt sprints toward Luca, “My favorite celebrity couple returns!”
He turns to me with the gravitas of a man demanding justice. “Did you at least bring me a croissant?”
I hand him a crinkly souvenir bag. “No croissants, but here’s a miniature Eiffel Tower. Don’t say I never spoil you.”
“I’m hanging this on my car mirror.”
I laugh and hand out the other souvenirs to the others.
***
That evening, Yana plans a bonfire night on the beach, and I could not imagine a better return.
The sky looks like someone has spilled a watercolor palette across it—orange, pink, a little lavender.
The waves are lazy and gold-edged, like they are tired from being pretty all day.
Someone has already started the fire, and the air smells like toasted marshmallows and sea salt.
Matt is strumming his guitar as it owes him money, and Zara is doubled over laughing.
I nestle beside Luca, pulling my blanket around my legs, the sand cool and clingy between my toes.
The fire flickers like it’s dancing just for us.
“You know,” I say quietly, watching the flames, “it feels weird being back.”
“Weird good or weird bad?” he asks, nudging my knee with his.
“Good weird. Like, everything’s the same, but I’m not .”
He looks at me. “That’s kind of the point of living, isn’t it?”
It’s true.
You grow up, and you learn, but there will always be a place where you can go back to and just relax for a moment.
We roast marshmallows until they are charred and gooey, laugh until our cheeks hurt, and sing off-key to Tongue Tied , and I feel nostalgia hit me.
It feels like we have all been puzzle pieces scattered across the map, finally being clicked back into place.
At one point, Luca slips his hoodie over my shoulders, and I’m drowned in the smell of burnt wood, and I love it.
“You’re cold,” he murmurs.
“You’re sweet,” I say.
“I know.” He grins, smug as ever.
I groan. “Ugh, and there goes your charm again.”
“You love my charm,” he complains.
“Go on, what else will inflate your ego?” I roll my eyes but smile, because I do love his charm.
The fire cracks between us.
The others are deep in a heated debate about who would survive a zombie apocalypse.
I lean into Luca’s side, feeling the warmth of the fire and him—my two favorite kinds of safe.
After a while, I whisper, “You know what I realized?”
“What?”
“I think this–” I gesture around us, “--this is my favorite version of my life.”
He smiles, eyes soft and steady. “Mine too.”
“Even more than Paris?” I tease.
“Paris wasn’t my life. Sure, it was amazing, and I will definitely remember it for the rest of my life, but Paris was a dream.”
Matt’s voice cuts through the moment like a cymbal crash. “Okay, lovebirds, enough staring into each other’s souls, it’s creeping me out!”
Luca throws a marshmallow at him. “Then stop looking. I’m not about to stop admiring my girl.”
“Well, admire her less, because I’m still alive and I feel kinda betrayed.”
I laugh as Luca glares at him.
“Don’t worry, Matt, I still love you,” I smile.
I pull out my phone and snap a photo of the moment.
It’s not a planned photo, just one that captures the reality of the situation.
Sure, no one is perfectly set up, but that’s the beauty of it.
My favorite kind of memory.
As I look at the picture, Luca leans in and whispers, “I love you, Tilly.”
I turn to him, heart fluttering like a kite. “I love you too.”
“Good, because you’re stuck with me.”
We stay by the fire long after the sun has disappeared behind the horizon, and the stars slowly wake up one by one.
The sound of waves lapping against the shore becomes a gentle backdrop to our laughter and chatter.
Luca has his arm around me, his hand lazily brushing over my arm.
“Hey,” I say, nudging him lightly. “Do you remember when we tried to make s’mores in the kitchen and ended up setting the paper towels on fire?”
He laughs. “Yeah, and you yelled at me for laughing instead of helping.”
“I was terrified!” I say. “The fire alarm went off, and Matt acted like it was a concert.”
“Hey, that’s my charm,” Luca teases. “I provide entertainment wherever I go.”
“You’re lucky I love you, or I’d be way more annoyed.”
“I’m very lucky,” he agrees, resting his forehead against mine for a second.
His breath is warm, and I can feel the steady beat of his heart. “And I love you more than you’ll ever know.”
He kissed my forehead like he was trying to memorize every inch of me.
The fire cracks, sparks flying into the night sky like tiny fireworks.
Around us, the group has settled into a comfortable silence, Yana and Zara leaning back against Matt, talking quietly, while we stay wrapped in our own little world.
Every time I look at him, I feel my chest squeeze in the best kind of way.
He’s my best friend, my home, and now my boyfriend, and the thought makes me dizzy with happiness.
As the night goes on, I realize I haven’t felt this completely at ease in months.
Paris has been magical, but home—the fire, the sand under our feet, Luca’s arm around me, the people we love laughing just a few feet away—this is where I belonged.
Finally, the fire dies down, and I snuggle closer to Luca, letting his warmth flood me.
“Can you promise me something?” I whisper.
“Anything,” he whispers back.
“Promise me you’ll never leave me, Luca. Promise me that no matter what, I’ll always have you beside me.”
He kisses my temple. “I promise. No matter what, Tilly.”
“No matter what.”
I finally feel at peace.
No insecurities, no doubts, just me and my friends laughing in the dark.
Luca’s hand finds mine, and I squeeze it back, smiling into the warmth of his presence.
The ocean whispers behind us, the sand is cool beneath our feet, and for the first time in forever, everything feels right.
In this moment, with the people I love and the boy I love most, wrapped up together in laughter and light, I realize I don’t need perfection.
I don’t need an excuse to laugh, I don’t need an excuse to hug my love, and I don’t need an excuse to be myself.
All I need is a little love and my favorite people surrounding me.