"Yeah?" she asks, a hint of a smile forming. "What do you think about?"

She sits up in front of me, removing the covers from both of us, and crosses her legs. I do the same, and lace our fingers together. "I think about marrying you, Lucy, and having a lot of kids."

She laughs quietly, her tears almost gone. "How many kids?"

"Well, at least four," I tell her honestly. "Four girls. Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy."

She gasps quietly. "Like in Little Women?" she says, her voice coming out high, like a little girl.

I nod. "Uh huh."

"You read the book?"

Shaking my head with a grimace, I reply, "I watched the movie."

She laughs, before shuffling closer to me. So close, she's straddling me. "What else?"

"I'd want a couple boys at least. You know, so I'm not surrounded by crazy."

I watch as her head throws back in laughter. "You're lying," she says.

"I'm not. I've even designed the house we live in. I figure your dad can build it for us. It won't be for a while but—"

"Cam," she whispers, tears falling again. But I know her cries now. I've learned to read them. These are the good kind. The happy ones.

"My favorite room in the house," I start, pulling her closer to me. "Is gonna have these huge double doors, like the ones on the town library."

She smiles.

I continue, "I'm gonna design a sign for the door, it's going to say 'Mom's Manor.'"

Her eyebrows bunch. "Your mom's gonna live with us?"

I laugh. "No, not my mom. It's going to be your room. You'll be Mom by then."

"Will you sketch the room for me?" she asks hesitantly. She knows I'm still a little uncomfortable with showing her my stuff. But the way she's looking at me now, I'd find a way to fly to the moon if she asked me.

"Yeah, babe."

She squeals, jumps off me, and the bed, and goes to her backpack to pull out a pen and notepad. I sit against the headboard with my legs spread and wait for her to sit between them. When she's comfortable, I set the notepad in front of her and wrap my arms around her waist and settle my chin on her shoulder. I touch the pen to paper...

And then I draw.

Her room in our future house.

And I explain to her what everything is, and what I envision. Wall to wall shelves of nothing but books. Her own fireplace. Her huge, comfortable armchair, and then the smaller ones in front of it. So her and our kids can sit in there and read, or she can read to them. She cries the entire time. But it's nothing compared to how she reacts when I tell her the best part—the half room hidden behind one of the bookcases. It opens up when you pull a certain book, the book being Little Women. "We can hang linen from the low ceiling," I tell her. "That way you and our kids can have your own makeshift tent, like your mom did for you. And you can read them stories, have them help you with the words, you know?" I pause and wait for her sobs to stop. "You can tell each other secrets. You can build memories, Luce. And you can remember them, too. You can remember your mom every day."

CHAPTER TWENTY

-CAMERON-

Lucy got into early admission, we all expected she would, but that didn't stop us from celebrating like crazy—a small one with family, then a big one with friends. For now, her and Jake were going to be at UNC. The rest of us were still waiting. Our friends never really planned on going to the same college together, it kind of just happened.

She cried that night, though. She said it was bittersweet; that she didn't know what she'd do if I didn't get in. She told me she wouldn't go without me. I told her she was being dumb, and that I'd go with her regardless, even if it meant full time work and night classes. Even if it took me ten years to get a degree, there was no way I'd let us be apart.

Now, she's crying for a different reason. "Cameron," she squeals. And I laugh. She waves my acceptance letter in the air before lunging at me, kissing me a thousand times. "I'm so proud of you!"

"Thanks, babe." Truth is, I'm proud of myself too. I've worked really hard over the last year to get that one letter. The only problem is that I don't know if I can afford to go, but I don't let that ruin the moment.

"Does your mom know?"

I shake my head. "No. I just went there quickly to check the mail but she wasn't home. I came straight here."

"We need to celebrate!" she says.

My grin is instant. "How?"

*

It turns out that Lucy is a lady in the street and a freak in the bed. We didn't have sex for a few weeks after the first time because she was still physically healing. After the fourth time, she kind of got obsessed. Honestly, we both did. For a few months though, she was bleeding on and off. We went to see Dr. Matthews about it; he said it might be the effect of the Implonen. He took it out and we chose the IUD instead. Since then, she's been fine. Better than fine.

"PULL MY HAIR!"

I'd laugh but I'm so fucking close to coming that if I moved wrong, I would.

"PULL IT!"

"Okay!" I yell. I reach up and tug her hair.

"FUCK YEAH, BABY!" She's on all fours, on the floor of the living room. "GRAB MY TITS!"

I reach around and do what she asks, trying to not lose the rhythm of my pumps. Fuck, I love her like this.

"RUB MY CLIT!"

"I DON'T HAVE ANY MORE HANDS!"

She grunts and starts slamming her ass into me. I feel her tighten and I know she's close. I try to hold off until I know she's done. When she starts, she growls and falls on her forearms, her ass in the air, ready for the taking. And I take it. Oh fuck, do I take it.

***

"If you won't take my money, you should at least ask his dad!" Mark whispers loud enough that we can hear them in the kitchen from the living room of Mom's house.

Luce and I look at each other while we sit on the couch. She smiles sadly and takes my hand.

For two weeks since we got the acceptance letter, this is what it's been like. After the first few days of searching for grants and looking into financial aid, we gave up. Mom's savings were only enough to cover a semester, if we were lucky. And that didn't include housing. That meant a two and half hour drive each way.

"His dad hasn't paid a cent to you guys ever," Mark continues.

"That's because I never asked him to. And what's wrong with you? You think that the life I've built for us isn't good enough? Huh? Do you think we need that money?"

"I hate this," I whisper.

"I'm sorry."

Mark responds, his voice getting louder, "I just don't understand why you won't let me pay! Why are you so stubborn that you won't accept help?"

Lucy squeezes my hand. "Maybe you can speak to Mark? Maybe he can lend you the money."

I shake my head.

Mark adds, "He's my son, Heather! Whether it's on paper or not! You don't want to move in with me, that's fine. I let it slide. But I don't understand why you won't let me take care of my family!"

Mom cries.

So does Lucy.