“I am sorry I didn’t tell you the truth before. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to. You kept asking about Romeo and what he was really like. I was hoping that”—he smiled wistfully—“you would recognize me.”

“Are you seriously telling me the truth about all this?" I asked."I seriously am," he replied. "I was also serious about stealing a fry.”

“I’m sorry,” I say and the words start spilling out. “I’m sorry. I should have just talked to you and then you wouldn’t have felt guilty and then you wouldn’t have gotten into this accident. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry.” I’m still holding his hand and he’s looking at me with his beautiful blue eyes. “You’re sorry?” he asks in confusion. “You’re sorry? For what? It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.” “I was being a baby,” I tell him. “I didn’t know what to say to you and I was trying to be strong but I was so upset that you were kissing Elena.” “Elena kissed me,” he answers. “I just want to clarify that. And she kissed me because I had just told her that I can’t see her anymore. Because I want to be with someone else.” “Someone else?” My voice is small in the large hospital suite and all of a sudden my heart is numb again. This time, it is numb because it is waiting hopefully for words that I am desperately wanting to hear. “Yes,” he nods. “Someone else.” My heart is still waiting. There is a pause. Then another pause. He doesn’t say anything so I do. “Is it anyone I know?” I look down and he looks up and our eyes lock. “I should hope so since it is you,” he says. My heart stops. And then starts again. And then I bend down and kiss Dante Gili-bear-ti as softly and gently as I can. “You want to be with me?” I ask this as I pull away and look at him. He smells like iodine and rubbing alcohol and bleached hospital sheets. It’s a foreign, unfamiliar smell. And I don’t like it. But his hand is strong and he squeezes mine. He nods. “Ever since you ran into me in the airport.” “You ran into me,” I answer. He rolls his eyes and I kiss him again.”

“I’m so sorry that I wasted your time because you really do mean a lot to me and I hope you have a very nice life because I really think you deserve it. I really do. I hope you do, too. Okay, then. Goodbye.”

“Are you?" I said. "Gay, I mean?" -I hoped he wasn't offended by my asking, but after everything that had happened, I really wanted to know."No," he said. "I thought I was for about a w-w-week once. But now I know I'm not."If there was ever an answer that sounded like the truth, that was it.”

“Will you… I mean, do you want to get married?” Tove asked. “To me?”“I, um…” I didn’t know what to say.“If you don’t want to, nothing has to change between us,” Tove said hurriedly. “I asked because it sounds like a good idea to me.”“Yeah,” I said, and I didn’t know what I would say until it was coming out of mouth. “I mean, yes. I do. I will. I would… I’ll marry you.”“Yeah?” Tove smiled hopefully, and I nodded.“Yes.” I swallowed hard and tried to smile back.“Good.” He exhaled and looked back down the hall. “This is good, right?”“Yeah, I think so,” I said, and I did mean that.“Yeah,” he nodded. “I sorta feel like throwing up now, though.”