“So, I think I’m going to take a break,” I say, pushing card stock and photographs in Meredith’s direction. “I’ll be back … eventually.”
She and Marcy wave me off with wily smiles. I doubt my scrapbooking skills will be missed.
I swing by my bedroom to slip on shoes and grab a jacket before dashing for the front door, fueled by the burst of excitement I always feel when I’m moments from seeing Max. It’s something like the tingly zip that comes with sucking on a lemon drop, that moment when the bright, sweet-tart flavor finds its way under my tongue.
He’s waiting in the middle of the street, and when he sees me racing toward him, his face becomes an explosion of happiness. I don’t stop running until we collide, until his arms circle around my waist to hug me closely, warmly, completely; my feet dangle over the pavement.
An eternity passes before he loosens his hold. I slide down his body until my shoes find solid ground, then tip my head to look up at him. He’s glowing in the golden light of the streetlamps, and I feel it, too—illuminated—because he’s Max and I’m Jillian, and my life is so much better because he’s a part of it.
“Love you, Holden.”
He flashes me the grin I adore, the one that makes my heart flutter and my cheeks flush and my insides dissolve like sugar in simmering water. The grin that’s all mine.
He kisses me. “Love you, too, Jilly.”