"What the f.u.c.k does it matter what happened in Texas?" I yelled. "You think it matters what she said? Here." Grabbing my phone out of my pocket, I tossed it on the table. It spun across the aged wood, coming to rest halfway between us. "Here's everything she didn't say. Here's nearly five months of her not saying anything!"

The silence expanded between us until it was so wide you could've driven a freight train through it.

Brady's was practically empty, but I still almost missed what Rachel said. "What did you want her to say, when you won't let Maggie go?" Her eyes drifted slowly to my face, her expression all kinds of sad. "We all know how much you loved her, but she's gone, Ian."

"Don't you think I know that?" The words managed to escape through my gritted teeth.

Her hand reached across the table for mine, and I tried to jerk it away. Tightening her fingers, she tugged harder. "When is it going to be enough? Three years? Five? How long until you feel like you deserve be happy again?"

"You don't get it." This time when I tried to pull my hand away, she let me. "I will never love anyone the way that I love Maggie. Ever. I'm not going to 'get over it.' I was lucky, so d.a.m.n lucky that I got to experience that even once in my life. That kind of love? It's not something that comes around twice."

There was a pause, a beat, and then Gavin said, "That is some of the stupidest s.h.i.t I have ever heard." He snorted. "Seriously, you don't know how much I want to lean across the table and punch you in the face right now. What are you even talking about? Soulmates? f.u.c.k, man, if that's the case, then I might as well call it a day." He brushed his hands together, like he was wiping them clean. "I already found her, and she took off on me in the middle of the night. So, I guess that's it for me, right? Might as well give up now." He stood, shaking off Ben's hand when he tried to make a grab at him. Stalking toward the front of the room, the slam of the door shook the half-empty bottles on our table.

Ben opened his mouth, then closed it, his gaze darting toward Rachel and then away again. He slid out of the booth and left without a word.

I wanted to call Gavin back, tell him that's not what I meant. It had to be different for him. He'd find someone else. There were too many people in the world for him not to. But by saying that, I'd be calling myself a liar. If I believed there was still someone out there for him, then why couldn't it be possible for me too?

I tried to swallow, but it felt like I was trying to swallow my beer bottle whole. My throat constricted, tight enough that I could barely breathe. "What if I forget her?"

"Ian." Rachel rolled her eyes. "That's ridiculous."

"Right now, if I close my eyes, I can barely picture her face. She's slipping away from me, Rach. And I know that if I let her go, she's never coming back." I knew how stupid I sounded, but it was everything that I was feeling. She was never coming back; realistically, I knew that. All I had left were memories. I replayed them in my memory every night before I fell asleep so that I wouldn't forget. I couldn't let them fade away.

Loving Bianca meant losing Maggie.

Rachel leaned toward me, her hair brushing against the table. She rested her hand over my heart. "Maggie will always be here." Bringing her hand back, she touched the same spot on herself. "And here. As long as there's one of us to remember her, she'll never truly be gone." Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she sat back in her seat. "It isn't wrong to love her."

This time I knew she wasn't talking about Maggie.

When I didn't answer, she let out a breath and shook her head. Gripping her purse in one hand, she pushed herself out of the booth. She paused at the end of the table and turned around, lifting one brow at me. "Did you ever think that you might be just that lucky? That love found you not once, but twice?"

Lucky, is that what I was?

I wanted to scoff at the thought, but there was enough truth in the question to give me pause. When Maggie died, I couldn't see past the next minute, let alone the next day or year. Every second was filled with a wrenching pain that tore me apart, shredding me up inside until I was just tiny fragments of myself. Then slowly, so gratingly slow that I hadn't even noticed, I began to piece myself together. The smallest pieces first. And I realized that it wasn't until Bianca that everything finally fit back together. A little rough around the edges, sure, but I was practically myself again.

I loved her.

I hadn't wanted to, had fought it the entire time. It happened anyway. And somehow, I found that my love for Bianca didn't diminish my love for Maggie. The two things had no bearing on each other whatsoever.

I'd loved Maggie with every single part of myself, and she'd loved me just as fiercely. A love like that never really died, but I found there was room in me for something else. Maybe not that exact kind of love, but something equally as strong. Maggie had loved me when I was whole, but Bianca loved me when I was only a shadow of myself. She loved me when I pushed her away. She loved me when I couldn't offer her anything, much less my heart. She even loved me when I couldn't stop loving Maggie.

Was there a word that meant more than lucky? Because that? That's what I was.

Chapter 41: Bianca.

I flipped through one of my bar exam prep guides, one finger tracing the text, my other hand whipping notes onto the page. My hand cramped, my eyes crossing from staring at the tiny text for so long. I glanced at my phone, seven o'clock. One more hour and I'd call it quits.

My little corner of the library was dimly lit, but quiet. Private, too. Single-mindedly I kept at it. Cutting off everything else, shutting out all sounds, I powered through. I dimly registered that someone sat down at the table across from me, but didn't pay them any mind. People were always coming and going. It was just like I was back at Columbia. The world continued to revolve around me, but I wasn't part of it. It was just me, my textbook, and my notes. Nothing else.

I dotted my last period with force, dropping the pen and ma.s.saging my palm. By the time I got around to taking the bar, my hand would be curled in a permanent claw. I tilted my head left, then right, stretching my neck.

Finally, I let my surroundings come back into focus, and almost upended my chair when I realized who had sat down across from me. I really needed to start paying better attention to the world around me. And checking who was there before opening the door.

"Hey," Ian said. He breathed out the word like he'd been holding it in for hours. The corners of his mouth tipped up in a smile, but every single muscle in his body was tensed.

My gaze coasted over him, coming to a halt at the bruise that was purpling his eye. "What happened to your face?"

His hand drifted up to prod against his cheek, and he winced. "Your roommate really didn't want to tell me where you were."

"Harper did that?"

"I get the feeling she let me off easy. Can't say I really blame her either." His eyes darted away from me, sweeping around the library. "So, you're back?"

"Yup." The conversation was getting more awkward by the second.

"Are your, um . . ." He coughed into his hand. "Your parents are okay with you being here?"

I barked out a laugh. "No, but that's not really my primary concern anymore."

"Good for you."

An uncomfortable silence settled between us.

"Listen, I probably should have called you and told you I was back in town, I just-"

"Didn't want to?" He c.o.c.ked an eyebrow at me.

I wanted to laugh, but cut it off before it bubbled out of my mouth. Oh, I'd wanted to call him. More times than I could possibly count. I'd come close to deleting his number from my phone, but wasn't willing to sever that last, final string between us. My desire wasn't the problem. Knowing that it was pointless, that nothing'd changed-that was the problem, and I wasn't a total m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.t.

"It wasn't that," I finally admitted. "I just didn't see the point. We've both said everything that we needed to."

"That's where you're wrong. There's so much more that I need to say."

My heart seized up at his words, fluttering so rapidly in my chest it was like a thousand dragonflies were trying to escape it.

"I should start with, I love you." His smile took my breath away, so warm and bright that it crinkled the corners of his eyes. "And then I should tell you that you were right. About everything. I thought that falling for you somehow invalidated what I felt for Maggie, but I realized it wasn't an either-or situation." He took a deep breath, his shoulders rising with it. "I'm always going to love Maggie. I hope you can understand that and see that it doesn't make what I feel for you any less." Another pause, and he swallowed, still smiling but losing steam. "I realize I'm not the best catch, and I know there's so much more left to tell you. So much that I never let you know. And someday, I'd like to tell you about Maggie. I mean . . . if you want." His face immediately dropped into a frown, color creeping into his cheeks. "I wouldn't force you if you didn't. I get it that you might not-"

"Ian." I ran my hands down over my thighs, shutting my eyes. "Stop."

My head was spinning, like someone had forced me to ride the Tilt-A-Whirl for an hour straight. Something that was part excitement, part anxiety curled into my stomach. It felt a lot like hope.

The sound of his chair scratching against the carpet made my head jerk up. He pushed to his feet, fingers splayed across the table.

I waited for him to look at me before I said, "Sit down."

He sat.

I found my feet, and took the four steps necessary to reach his side. His eyes widened as I lowered myself into his lap, one hand dropping to rest on the outer edge of my thigh. He'd said everything I needed to hear, but words and actions were miles apart.

Resting my forearm against his shoulder, I ran my fingers through his hair. It was soft and thick, and on the verge of needing a cut. I twirled the end around my fingertip, then brought up my thumb to run it underneath his eye, barely touching the discolored skin.

I wasn't looking at the bruise, though; I was looking at him, straight into his eyes. And for the first time, he wasn't flinching from my gaze or pulling away. He was letting me look as deep as I wanted, hiding nothing from me. It was all right there for me to see.

I ran my other hand down his neck, over the thick muscle that corded there. I traced the sharp edge of his collarbone through his shirt, and slid my fingertips over the b.u.mpy fabric of his thermal shirt. The muscles of his forearm flexed underneath my touch, and even when the pad of my thumb grazed against the underside of his wrist, I didn't pull my gaze away. "Tell me about the hummingbird."

He sighed, and his warm breath floated over my skin. "It's for her, for Maggie, but I'm guessing you already figured that out. It was the last one I got before . . ." His tongue darted out, running over his lips as he swallowed. "The first day I saw her, in the library at my school, she had this little doodle of a hummingbird on her sneaker. It stuck with me, and it just seemed to fit her-beautiful, vibrant, couldn't sit still. So when she asked me to get one for her, I knew this would be it." He blinked, but it was more like he was hiding behind his eyelids. "She never even saw it."

"She would have loved it."

The left side of his mouth tilted up. "You didn't even know her."

I slid my hand down the side of his face and traced the pad of my thumb over his lower lip. "I love it when you smile. You should never stop."

"You do that to me." His free hand lifted to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. Lowering his head toward me, he whispered, "I really, really want to kiss you right now, but before I do, I have to ask you something. Did you ever finish your list?"

I shook my head.

Adjusting me on his lap, he dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a wrinkled sheet of paper. He pressed it into my hand. I didn't have to unfold it to know this was Renee's list. The original copy. The list Eli left behind in my apartment, in his haste to get me back home. "Where did you get this?"

"That night at the museum, I came after you. I had no idea what the h.e.l.l I was planning on saying, but that didn't stop me from running. I wasn't fast enough, though, and you were gone by the time I got there. When I knocked on your door, it was open. The rooms were dark, and it was clear it'd been cleaned out. I went to leave, but I saw this attached to the front of the refrigerator. I thought you'd want it back." He shrugged. "I meant to give it to you when I came to your house, but I never got around to it."

Smoothing the sheet of paper against my leg, I looked over it. Only two things remained-send a message in a bottle and save someone's life. "I thought about it when I was home. Finishing it off, I mean. It didn't seem right to do it without you, though." I laughed. "Besides, I still haven't figured out how in G.o.d's name I'm going to save someone's life."

Another smile played across Ian's lips. "You already did."

"What?" My mouth did the opposite of his and frowned. "I think I'd remember that."

His hand found mine, pulling it up so that he could lace our fingers together. "Bianca, you saved my life."

I was tempted to brush it off with a joke. Make light of the situation. But there wasn't even a hint of teasing in his eyes. He was dead serious.

"After Maggie died, I went to a really dark place. Everyone wanted the real Ian back, and they didn't care how it happened. There was our deal, the label, so much riding on me. Ben pushed me toward one psychiatrist, the label shoved me at another. Both of them gave me pills, recommended counseling. I did neither. Which, in retrospect, probably wasn't the best idea." He drew in a deep breath and pinched his lips together. "But I did have the pills, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't consider using them-all of them, at the same time." His eyes lifted to mine, searching to make sure I understood what he was hinting at.

The blood roared in my ears as the implication sunk in. I squeezed his hand, hard enough that I could feel his bones. It seemed unimaginable that I'd come that close to never even meeting him. G.o.d, how different my life would be.

"I couldn't do it though," he said. "It felt like cheating. So, I flushed them, and that was that. You have to understand that even though I was alive, I wasn't really living. Not really. Not until the day that some beautiful stranger bought me a cup of coffee." The smile was back for an encore, and this time, it didn't look like it ever planned on leaving. "You may not have known it; h.e.l.l, I didn't even know it, but every day since that one, you've been saving me."

This time I didn't hesitate to go for what I wanted. My lips were on his, his hands were on my back, my neck, running through my hair. Nothing else existed, nothing else mattered but this. There was no holding back, no more hiding. My heart cracked down the middle just like it was supposed to because this, this was gratefully handing over half of my heart and getting half of his back in return.

When I finally came up for air, I rested my forehead against his. "I probably should have mentioned it before, but I am so in love with you."

He heaved out a sigh of relief. "You had me worried for a little bit there."

"Shut up. You totally knew."

He shook his head. "Knew? No. Hoped. Definitely hoped." His lips brushed against mine one more time. "Do you know what today is?"

"Umm . . . Thursday?"

"Thursday," he repeated, the words jumping the small gap from his lips to mine. "My favorite day."

This time my heart smiled, and I didn't think it planned on stopping anytime soon. "Mine too."

Epilogue: Bianca.

It'd taken almost a year to finish Renee's list when all was said and done. I stood on the edge of the pier, a long, thin bottle clutched between my fingers. Inside curled a piece of white paper, the edges fraying from where I tore it from my notebook.

I always thought that I'd be sending my message to Renee, but when it came down to it, I realized that everything I had to say, she already knew. I didn't have to tell her that this list didn't only save Ian's life, it saved mine. It saved me from a future I didn't want, a family who didn't value me, and a lifetime of disappointments. Not a day went by that I didn't thank her for pushing me to be the person she always knew I was.

Ian rested a hand on my shoulder, stepping up behind me. "I still can't believe you won't let me read it."

I shook my head again, maybe for the thousandth or so time. "It's not for you."

"So you've said." His hand trailed down over my arm, and his other joined it, slipping both around my waist, lacing them together against my stomach. "You want me to do it?"

I rolled the bottle between my hands, the gla.s.s smooth against my palms, and leaned back against his chest. "Nope." Drawing back my arm, I tossed the bottle out in an arc. It twirled in the air, the sun catching it in mid-flight, before it was captured between the waves. We watched it, Ian's chin resting on the top of my head, until it finally disappeared from sight.

Rationally, I knew the water would swallow my note. That eventually the ink would bleed and the paper would disintegrate into nothing when the water seeped through the cork. But just the act of writing it down, putting it out there in the world, made me feel like it was possible she'd know. That even if she couldn't read it, the message might still find its way to her.

And even though the bottle floated away in cold water, I'd read it enough times to know exactly what it said: Dear Maggie, I wish I could have known you. Then again, I'm infinitely grateful that I never did.

I should probably tell you that I'm in love with your husband. In any other situation this note would be received quite differently, but I get the feeling that you'd be happy about it. Maybe that's naive on my part, or just plain hopeful, but I think you loved him enough for it to be true.

I guess what I really want to say is: thank you. Thank you for loving him. Thank you for being good enough for him. Thank you for being everything he needed.

Because now, he's absolutely everything that I need.

I want you to know that I love him so much that some days it takes my breath away. And I hope, if you knew me, you'd think I deserved him too.

I'm keeping him safe for you. Loving him when you can't. And always, always realizing how lucky I am to have found him.

-Bianca.

Acknowledgments.