What’s wrong is that every morning and every night, I lie in bed wondering why you’re not beside me.

Just breathe," my mom would say, "Ten tiny breaths... Seize them. Feel them. Love them.

Because you’re not a one-night girl, Irish.” (...) “You’re my forever girl.

Because you´re not a one night girl Irish.' Leaning in to place a kiss on my jawline he whispers, 'You're my forever girl.

What the hell do I have to do to get your attention? Do I need to get up there?” I throw an arm toward the stage. His eyes swell for just a second, in shock. He reaches forward to hold my hands, but he catches himself in time and instead folds them across his chest. “Believe me, you have my full attention.

I barrel into his arms, my mouth connecting with his. Seizing him. Feeling him. Loving him.

We are simply two good people with equally flawed pasts, looking for perfect futures. And I think we’ve found it, in each other.