It was Jensen’s idea. He said I was a dandelion when he first met me—stubborn, rooted, determined. Little by little I loosened up, and the second I was ready, I scattered to the wind, the best parts of me becoming free to explore the world around me. “Looks good,” he says, examining my wrist in his hand. “Healing up nicely. We’ll have to take a picture of it for the website.” I flick my wrist around, and the sparkling diamond on my left finger catches the light. He proposed last March, during spring break. It was just the two of us in our tiny campus town apartment. There was no romantic speech. Jensen’s not like that. But he did speak from the heart, and all I needed to hear was, “I can’t live without you, Waverly.” I don’t remember much about what he said after that because I felt the same way. Nothing else beyond that mattered. “Want to get a bite to eat?” Jensen rubs his stomach as he sprawls across our messy bed. “Why don’t I make you something? You worked late last night.”
