Again, But Better(120)

There’s a round table at the center of the room, with things on it. Not a room—we’re in a lobby. There are silver elevators all along the left wall and a receptionist desk on the right, with someone— “Ah!” I yelp, stumbling backward over my heels. Pilot steadies me from behind.

“Shane,” he starts calmly.

“What is she doing here? What are you doing here? Where are—?” I spin around, gaping. “This is—why are we here? What are we doing here? We’re done with you, spirit guide!” I point at her accusingly.

She raises her hands in surrender. “Darling, you’re fine.”

“Shane.” Pilot takes my elbows and turns me carefully to face him.

I crane my neck, trying to keep her in view. “You don’t want to—What are we doing, Pilot?” I can’t form full sentences. I grasp at the locket around my neck.

“Shane,” Pilot says again. I turn back to him. “Breathe, we’re okay. She’s cool.” He drops his forehand against mine. She’s cool?

“I’m sorry. I’m really confused.” I try to keep my voice level. My heart’s pounding a mile a minute.

“She asked me if we wanted to hold on to this”—he taps the locket—“anymore, or if she could have it back.”

I blink. My voice drops to a whisper. “I, I don’t need, do you, do you want to keep it around?”

Pilot smiles and shakes head. He carefully moves my hair, unclasps the necklace, and places it in my palm.

I look from him to our spirit guide, still disoriented. She holds out her hand. I shuffle over slowly and drop the locket into it. “Um, thank you,” I whisper.

She nods and turns away, exiting swiftly through a door behind the front desk. I pivot around to shoot Pilot a wide-eyed look.

“Pies, what, when, what’s—”

He comes forward and takes my hand. He leads me toward the table I saw at the center of the room. A number of items are lined up around the edge of the small circular surface. There’s a gym lock? A picture of us kissing, a key, a ceramic piece of apple pie—I shake my head and look up at him again, confused.

He takes both of my hands in his, searching my eyes. “This is where you changed my life,” he says.

He gestures to the pie on the table. “On our walk home that first day in London, you called me Pies and rambled something about me being … warm?” His eyes twinkle under the lights. “That’s when I first felt something shift.”

He looks back at the table. “That lock is from the first time we spent the night together in Paris.”

I look down at it, breathing hard now. The picture is next. Looking at it now, I see it’s the one we took on our way down the crag in Edinburgh. Pilot looks from it to me. “From the day we decided to stay.”

I bite at my lip. “You did all this?” My voice wavers as I gesture to the lights around us.

He points to the key sitting next to the picture. “That’s the key to our shitty studio apartment.” A tear escapes my eye. I loved our shitty studio apartment. I loved working near the window and being able to look over at him, a few feet away, playing on our bed. We moved to a bigger place last year, after my second book sold and Pilot got hired as a full-time producer at Stone Glass Records.

I follow the curve of the table all the way around, past a small streetlight figurine, to the last item—the John Lennon Beatles nesting doll. It’s set right in front of me.

“Oh my god, where did you find that?” I blurt, pointing to it.

Pilot picks it up with a small smile. “I got it when I went back to the store the second time around.”

“When you got the cards? I still can’t believe you went without me,” I scold.

His smile slips into a smirk.

“You’ve had this since then?” I ask in disbelief. He glances down at it before meeting my eyes again.

“Shane, I love you. I wanted to stop in here one more time to pay my respects to the moments that brought us to where we are.”

I huff a small laugh. “I love you.”

He offers John Lennon to me. My brows pull together, but I reach out slowly and take it from him.

“Open it.” He smiles. I narrow my eyes before looking down at the doll.

I open John Lennon. Inside him, I open Paul. And then George. And then Ringo. Inside Ringo is a tiny wooden bowling pin–shaped guitar and … a ring.

It knocks the wind out of me. I look back up at Pilot, but he’s not standing in front of me anymore.

He’s on his knee. My jaw drops.

“I have no regrets. I have no interest in ever going back to before. I only want to move forward with you.”

I shake my head in disbelief, sporting the toothiest smile of all time.

“I, I’m just.” I carefully get down on my knees and take his chin in my hand. “Pilot Penn,” I start softly. “Screw you, I’m never going to be able to top this move.”





Acknowledgments


I can’t believe I’ve reached this stage of my Again, but Better book journey. I’m writing the acknowledgments for my first novel? This is surreal. I have so many people to thank. The first two have to be my parents. Thank you for letting me study abroad. Those four months forever changed me, and the paths I would choose to take.