Remember her by? Just like that, I slam back down to earth with all the force of a burning comet. I don’t want to remember Waverly—I want her by my side for every day of my life. I want my ring on her finger and her thighs clamped permanently around my skull like earmuffs, and I want to bring her coffee on our deck every morning.
Waverly smiles up at me, pink-cheeked and breathless, her bare chest rising and falling as water droplets streak down her body. I’m blocking most of the spray, but she’s still getting rained on down there, and Christ, she’s so beautiful that it’s hard to look at her. Can’t believe what she just did for me, and how good it felt.
That damp, mussed hair—a darker shade of blonde when it’s wet. Those freckles and those plump pink lips and those eyes. Those big, blue
