“Ember, I fell in love with you in an airplane bathroom while you were crying in the toilet.”
“That doesn’t—”
“The toilet, Ember. You had mascara running down your face and you told me to go away and I didn’t, because even then, even before I knew your wolf or anything about you beyond the fact that you were crying in the wrong bathroom, I looked at you and something in my chest rearranged itself and never went back.” I take her hand. “You were furious and heartbroken, and you had tears on your chin with snot down your nose, and you looked at me like I was the most irritating thing that had ever walked through a door, which I probably was, and my brain said ‘oh no, it’s her’ because I knew. Right then. In a bathroom the size of a coffin that smelled like recycled air and industrial clean
