“Well, my parents love you,” she said, hugging the lasagna. “There’s nothing tricky about it. My mom thinks you have a delightful sense of humor, and my dad told me he thinks you’re quite handsome. ‘Manly,’ he said. He even commented on the size of your hands. Don’t be surprised if he tries to dance with you at our wedding …”

Beth stopped talking abruptly. When Lincoln looked over, she’d turned her face to the window.

“I’ll dance with your dad,” he said, setting his hand on the back of her neck and brushing her cheek with his thumb. “As long as he leads …I’m not much of a dancer.”

When she smiled up at him, he felt his heart swell against the inside of his chest. He felt that way all the time now. Even when he was holding her, it felt like there was something inside of him trying to burst out and embrace her.

“I didn’t know it could be like this,” she said later.

Not later that night. But on a night a lot like that one. A night that ended with Beth in his arms, with her everywhere against him.

Lincoln was almost asleep. “Like what?” he asked.

“I didn’t know love could leave the lights on all the time. Do you know what I mean?”

“Not exactly,” he said, finding a way to pull her closer. He could just make out her silhouette in the dark, her head lifted, her hair falling on his chest.

“I thought it took more naps,” she said, struggling to find the right words. “Or blinked. I didn’t know it could just go on and on and like this without falling off an edge. Like pi.”

“What kind of pie?” he murmured.

“No, pi … ,” she said.

“Lincoln …”

He didn’t answer.

“Lincoln? Are you asleep?

“I didn’t know someone could love me like this,” she said. “Could love me and love me and love me without …needing space.”

Lincoln wasn’t asleep. He rolled on top of her.

“There’s no air in space,” he said.