59. Gabrielle
Gabrielle
One month later.
It’s been a whole month since I became Cam’s wife. And somehow, despite everything—despite the weight of what’s coming, despite the ticking clock I try so hard to ignore—I’ve never felt more at peace.
Life with Cam feels effortless right now, like we’ve fallen into the most beautiful rhythm, a melody only we can hear—one we created together a long time ago.
Mornings full of sleepy kisses and coffee, afternoons spent checking things off our bucket list, nights wrapped up in each other.
Some days, I simply forget.
I forget how cruel time actually is. I forget that I’m living inside of a love story with an ending I can’t rewrite.
Tonight is one of those times.
We’re standing on the Brooklyn Bridge, the city stretched out in front of us, the air crisp and cold as the night sky stretches beyond it all.
The lights of Manhattan glow, reflecting off the river, the hum of New York life buzzing beyond us.
It’s the most magical symphony when you step back and take it all in.
Cam stands behind me, wrapping his arms around me and placing his hand over mine. Slowly, we push the heart-shaped locket closed, locking our love onto this bridge, sealing a piece of our story into the steel and stone.
A tiny brass locket with our initials clamped onto the railing among thousands of others, as if it could keep our love frozen in time forever.
Cam’s arms stay around me from behind, pulling me into him now, his chin resting on my head. His warmth melts into my body. I’ve never felt this content with anyone else in my life.
Having a best friend is amazing. Falling in love with your best friend feels like time forgot to move, like you get to experience an extra piece of this world that was hidden.
He exhales softly, his breath brushing against my cheek. “It’s crazy to think about having to do this alone if you hadn’t come back into my life when you did.”
I close my eyes, gripping his arms where they’re wrapped around me.
“Cam—”
He shakes his head gently, squeezing me tighter. “I know this is hard for you. But you being here, loving me the way you do, has been the biggest gift I could have ever asked for before I leave.”
My chest tightens.
“Damn it,” I whisper, tilting my head back against him. “I haven’t cried all week.”
He chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. Then I turn in his arms, looking up at him, the city lights turning his brown eyes golden. His expression is so full of love, I can feel it seeping into my heart just by him looking at me.
“You will by far and forever leave the biggest imprint on my life…” My voice shakes, but I hold steady, “and in my heart. And I just…I wish I could bottle up every ounce of your love and save it for all the inevitable bad days. Your love is the purest love I’ve ever experienced.
A once-in-a-lifetime kind of love. A once-in-a-lifetime kind of friend. ”
His eyes soften, something unspoken settling between us. “I might be forced to leave you, Gabrielle. But my love is staying. You don’t have to bottle it up because it will always be with you.”
We stand there, holding onto each other, soaking in the moment, letting the world spin around us.
A semi-crazy idea pops into my head, and I pull back slightly, grinning up at him.
“What?” Cam asks, immediately suspicious.
“I just thought of something we need to add to our list,” I say. “And since we’re out—we could do it right now…before they close.”
His brows raise. “Do I get to know what it is?”
“Hmm…no.” I shake my head. “It’s a surprise. You just have to agree.”
He laughs. “Honestly, I’d agree to anything you asked for, Gabrielle.”
I grin, taking his hand and tugging him down the street.
* * *
“You’re not serious,” Cam says, staring up at the neon-lit sign.
I nod, looking up at him with my most innocent and sweet expression to convince him to do this with me.
Minutes later, we’re seated side by side in chairs, fingers laced together, the sound of buzzing needles filling the space.
Cam watches the artist work on my hand first, then his.
When it’s over, we both glance down at the small, delicate ink on the sides of our hands. A single, simple string, with a singular loop.
The invisible string that has always tied us to each other.
I look at him, my heart in my throat.
“In this lifetime,” I whisper.
He runs his thumb gently over my knuckles, his voice just as soft as mine when he replies, “And every lifetime after.”