We grieve.

We mourn.

And we love.

We take our broken hearts and we piece them back together, in the place where it all began. Where a boy that barely knew me took me to break. Taught me to let it go. And helped me to heal.

As the sun sets, and the sky turns orange, we each place a flower in paper boats and release them down the river. "Did you have a feeling?" the pastor asks. "If it was a boy or girl?"

"Girl," we say at the same time.

She smiles at us. "Did you want to name her?"

I look up at Cameron standing next to me with his hand on my waist. "Hope," I whisper to him. "You gave me Hope."

*

Cameron stands in front of us with a piece of paper in his hands. He looks first to his mom, and then to me sitting next to her.

He tries to smile, and then he clears his throat as his eyes wander to what's in his hands.

Seconds pass before he speaks.

"More Than Forever," he says, and then glances up at me. "By Cameron Lovesyoumore."

And in a moment of complete sadness, I didn't think it was possible—but he makes me laugh.

******

Once upon a time there was a little boy whose mother made him watch Aladdin—more times than what should be legally allowed for boys. Yet each time, he'd sit with her, under her magic carpet blanket and watch intently, because he knew it made her happy.

It was a story about a boy named Aladdin—a poor boy—who found love in the strangest of places. He fell in love with a girl, a princess, living in a giant castle, filled with many, many people. Mainly boys. This girl had no mother—or at least one that he could tell. And even though people surrounded her, she was lonely. She was sad. The only thing that he found she had comfort in was her pet tiger that she took everywhere. In my story, her tiger is an e-reader.

One day, the boy found the nerve to speak to this beautiful princess, all alone in her giant house. He said to her, "Do you trust me?" She smiled, and said yes. And off they went, on an epic adventure. They went on a magic carpet ride. He promised to show her the world, shining, shimmering, splendid...

And he did.

Or at least he tried.

After a few hundred times of watching this movie, the little boy turned to his mother and asked, "Why wouldn't the genie just give him more wishes?"

His mom smiled down at him. "Because," she said. "It's selfish to want more than you already have."

The little boy spent night after night thinking about his mother's words. And he promised then, to always appreciate what he had. What was given to him. And to never want more.

But then this boy, a little older now, and definitely more handsome and rugged, fell in love with his own princess, who was sad and lonely in her huge mansion. And even though his mom's words played in his head, he couldn't help but want more. He wanted more of her, tiny versions of her, in the form of their daughters.

Now, that boy is a man—again, even more handsome. And he sees the selfishness of his ways; his want to have more of something he already had. Something he was blessed to be given in the first place.

So for days and days this man searches for the genie, trying to find a way to make his wishes come true. And he promises himself that if he finds that genie, and the genie offers him three wishes, he'll say what he should have said a long time ago. "You can keep your two wishes, I'll just take the one. I want my girl, Lucy. My forever. And not just for our forever, but for eternity, and for always."

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

-CAMERON-

It's been a few days since Hope's funeral, and I haven't heard from her. I don't know if she wants more time, but I'm giving it to her anyway. Jake says she'll come to me when she's ready, so I wait. Or at least I did. But now, seeing her reading under a tree just like she used to when we were fifteen, I can't help but go to her.

I release my backpack and sit next to her.

She drops her chin to her chest, trying to hide her smile. God, I miss her smile.

"What are you reading?" I ask.

"Nothing."

"You can't be reading nothing. What is it?"

"It's just about a boy and girl... falling in love."

"Yeah?" I joke, repeating my words from so long ago. "Is the guy a stud? Is his name Cameron?"

She laughs, the sound so powerful it drowns out all other sounds. "Yes, actually."

"Really?" I ask in disbelief.

She nods, her smile full force. But her eyes stay down, focused on the words. "But he's a sexy, broody, drug lord."

"No shit?"

"Shit," she says.

I beat my chest like a caveman. "I could be a sexy, broody, drug lord."

She laughs again.

"Read me some," I ask her.

"No."

"Fine."

She doesn't respond, and I think we're done. But the warmth of her hand skims down my arm. I watch anxiously as her hand reaches mine.

My heart picks up pace.

Then she links our fingers and curls hers.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

She doesn't speak. She just sits there, reading her book, loosely holding my hand.

After a few minutes she lifts my arm by my hand and ducks under it, so my arm is around her, our fingers locked at the side of her waist. She leans in close, so close I can smell her shampoo. I sniff once. I've missed that smell.

"Did you just sniff me?"