Isla and the Happily Ever After(95)

I’m holding my breath. I can hardly turn the page…

There I am. I’m reading this book by lamplight. I finish it, call him, and he tells me that he’s on the corner outside of my window. His hands are tucked into his pockets, and he’s shivering in the freezing February night.

Isla-on-the-page runs outside. Josh embraces her.

“I’m in love with you,” he says. “I’ll do anything to be with you.”

“I’m in love with you,” Isla-on-the-page says. “I’ll wait for you.”

I tell him that I’ll wait for him to finish his book and earn his passage to college. I tell him that we’ll meet again this summer. And then, he tells me, we’ll never be apart again.



It’s after two in the morning when I set down the manuscript. My heart is drumming so loudly that I can’t hear myself think, and I can hardly see through my tears. I climb out of bed, pull aside the curtain, and peek out my window.

He’s there.

I drop the curtain, and it swings back into place. I pick it up and look outside again. He’s still there. He’s on the corner with his head ducked underneath his coat, shivering. The snow is falling like crazy. It covers him as if he were a mere postbox or bicycle or tree. He doesn’t see me. I yank on my boots, grab my key, and race down the hall. I throw open the door, and he must hear me running, because he turns the corner just as I reach it.

“You forgot to call,” he says.

I throw open my arms. He pulls me into him, and we kiss, and his lips are cold, and I think he’s crying, and I’m definitely crying, and I pull back to say, “I am so in love with you, Joshua Wasserstein. Of course I’ll wait for you.”





Chapter thirty-three


His voice is a whisper. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

I shut my door with precision silence. “I’m not on a final warning, and you’ve already been expelled. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I don’t know.” Josh is genuinely worried. “Maybe it could go on your permanent record and keep Dartmouth from accepting you?”

I smile. “My parents have already sent them the first tuition cheque.”

His knees weaken. And then rest of his body follows. I guide him onto the edge of my bed. “Do you mean?” he says. “Are you…?”

“I’m going to Dartmouth.”

Josh’s head drops into his hands. His whole body shakes. I sit beside him and press my head against his shoulder. Because I can again. He lifts his head, and his eyes shine with tears. “I’m sorry. I’m just…really overwhelmed right now.”

“Me, too.”

“I love you. I’ve always loved you, Isla.”

“I know.” I take his freezing hands and rub them between mine, trying to warm them. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I doubted myself, and that made me doubt you. But you weren’t the problem. You were never the problem. I should have trusted you, but I didn’t, because I couldn’t trust myself.”

“But you do now? Trust yourself?”

“I’m…getting there. I’m beginning to think that maybe it’s okay to be a blank canvas. Maybe it’s okay that my future is unknown. And maybe,” I say with another smile, “it’s okay to be inspired by the people who do know their future.”

“It goes both ways, you know.”

I link his icicle fingers through mine. “What does?”

“Artists are inspired by blank canvases.”

My smile grows wider.

“A blank canvas,” Josh continues, “has unlimited possibilities.”

I close my eyes, lean over, and kiss his cold lips. “Thank you.”

His shivering grows more severe.

I jump to my feet. “Oh, mon petit chou.” I pull out his arms from his snow-soaked coat. “I can’t believe you were waiting out there this whole time.”

His teeth chatter. “I-I would have waited all night.”

I hang up his coat inside my shower and return for his shirt. “This, too.” I tug it off, over his head. His skin is pale. Almost lavender-coloured. “And these.” I remove his shoes and socks, but his pants prove to be a challenge. They’re practically frozen to his legs. When they finally release, I topple over backwards.

He smiles through his shivers. “Not…quite…how I imagined…undressing with you again.”

I hang up his shirt and pants beside his coat to dry. Over my head, his socks and boxers go flying onto the shower floor. I laugh. He’s wrapped himself up inside my quilt, and only his face is peeking out.

“This doesn’t mean you can take advantage of me,” he says.