Chapter 17: Mine, However It Is

On Thursday night I found Rowan on the floor of the yellow room, surrounded by white slats.

He had the instructions in one hand and a small silver key in the other.

He had been in there since dinner.

"It's a cot," I said from the doorway. "It has a lot of parts."

"I've read it four times."

"And?"

"Nothing in it explains what I'm supposed to do with my hands."

I laughed, and he looked up at me.

He wore an old gray T-shirt and no shoes.

His hair stuck up where he had pushed his fingers through it.

I had slept next to him for three nights, with his arm across my waist and nothing else.

I had wanted him for all three.

I came in and sat down on the drop cloth, facing him.

"Rowan," I said. "Say what you came in here to say."

He put down the key.

"I want it to be mine," he said.

The room was very quiet. The paint smelled sweet and new.

"I've wanted it so much that I couldn't look at it," he said.

"Rowan."

"I told myself it was Preston's, because that was safer. I wasn't being noble. I was protecting myself."

"I know."

"If the test says it isn't mine, I'll love it. Nothing changes."

"Nothing?"

"I'll be at every appointment and every birthday. I'll fight whoever tries to take it."

"And if it is?"

His throat worked.

"Then I was wrong about my own body, and it's the best thing that has ever happened to me." He took a breath. "Either way, I love you."

I stopped moving.

"I should have said it in a better room," he said. "I didn't plan it."

"When did you know?"

"I think since the dress. The zipper."

"That was the first week."

"Yes."

"I'm still angry about the other thing."

"I know. You should be."

"And I love you," I said. "Both of those are true."

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