Sustained

“I . . . love you. Oh god, Jake . . . so much. I love you so much.”

My voice comes out strangled and raw. “I love you.”

And I think I just might love her.

We close the wisp of distance together, and our lips fuse.

I whisper to Chelsea, “Did I miss anything?”

“No looking at each other,” she whispers back.

“That’s right,” I say louder, “no looking at each other.”

That’s kind of a big one.

“Consequences will be swift and severe.”

“It’s gonna look like a schizophrenic’s room,” I murmur, and she laughs.

“So about Jake moving in here with us, what do you say, guys?”

“Now I know I can. Because . . . because no one could love you—need you—as much as I do. You’re everything to me—the only thing that matters.”

“Please don’t cry. I love—” I choke on the words, throat burning, eyes stinging. “I love you.”

“I love them, too, in case that wasn’t clear. They’re awful and perfect . . . and I love them like they’re mine. Like they’re ours.”

My voice comes out strangled and raw. “I love you.”

Chelsea gazes back at me, her smile pink and hopeful.

At first.

But then she remembers, and the smile fades. She pulls away from me, stepping back.