“Summer?” Posie asks. “Do you want your shot?”
“I’ll be right back,” I say, already moving through the throngs of people. Someone murmurs that I have a great voice, and I beam at them in thanks.
Finally, there’s no one between us.
I walk into his arms. He pulls me in for a hug just shy of bone-crushing and I bury my face against his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him. His hand curves around the nape of my neck, the two of us trying to become one person.
“You were fantastic,” Anthony murmurs into my hair. “Absolutely breathtaking.”
I fight against the happy tears burning beneath my lids. “You came.”
“I couldn’t stay away, not when you were singing. And not when I missed you this much.”
“I was counting days,” I admit.
“I was counting hours.” He releases me slowly, but doesn’t let me go. His dark eyes are warm with emotion. An open face, even here, amongst all these people. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being you, Summer. For waiting on me to figure myself out.”
“I would have waited even longer.”
His lip curls, and his gaze travels over my face. I know he’s trying to memorize it again. He does that a lot, soaking up the details.
“How have you been?” I ask. “Honestly?”
“Honestly,” he repeats, “it’s been awful. The most difficult thing I’ve ever done.”
I want to hear about it. The places he’s gone to, the people he’s told. The doctors he’s spoken to. But not now, not here, not when he’s looking at me with such happiness. Not when my heart feels like it’s soaring.
“You’re here now,” I whisper.
“Yes, and I’m never leaving again. Not as long as you want me.”
“Forever,” I say.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper, pressing it into my hand. “You told me to write a list of my own,” he says. “Things I want to do in life.”
My eyes swim as I look down at the neatly folded paper, unable to say a single thing.
Anthony’s voice softens. “You reminded me of who I used to be, and of who I want to be again in the future. Vision or no vision.”
I unfold the paper. In his sharp-edged handwriting is a short list. The first line is already struck.
Tell the woman I love how I feel.
“I got ahead of myself with crossing the first one off,” he murmurs. “Haven’t done it quite yet.”
I can’t breathe as he cups my cheek, running a thumb over my lower lip. “I love you, Summer. For so many reasons. For who you are. For your goodness and sweetness and smiles. For your optimism. But also for your bad days, and your insecurities, and when you lost your temper at that delivery guy one time.”
I frown at the memory, and he smiles wider. “Yes, especially that. I love that you find a silver lining everywhere, even when it’s infuriating as hell. I love that you don’t need me. You want me. There’s a difference.
“I can’t promise I’ll be the man you deserve every day, all the time. One day I won’t see anymore, and that terrifies me, Summer. I won’t always handle that well. But I’m going to try. I’m going to live this life to the best of my ability. You were the one to tell me I’m not dying, that I need to stop acting like I am. You were right. Because even blind, I’ll have two hands to hold you with, and a mouth to kiss you with, and fingers to touch you, and that’s enough. It’ll always be enough.”
My eyes blur, until I can’t make out his features. It doesn’t stop me from seeking his mouth. “I love you too.”
He kisses me with a low, harsh sound in his throat, arms tightening around me. The rest of his list crumples in my hand, and I laugh, kissing him, trying to push back at the same time. He shakes his head and kisses me again, and again.