I'd sat in the filthy bathroom stall at the Port Authority bus station for a solid hour as I wrapped my mind around the enormous mistake I had made.

Then I stood up. An hour was long enough. If I wanted to find Beau, I needed to get back to Crown Creek. I'd go to his parents' house, ask them to help me. Or, barring that, I'd walk to Beau and Finn's new house and just wait for them. They had to come home at some point, right? That's what home was. And once they got home, I would be there, ready to start over again.  

But in order to do that, I needed money. 

I wandered out into the thronging streets, letting the crowds carry me along like a leaf caught in a current. If I let myself, I knew I'd become overwhelmed in a second. There were so many people in this city, millions, it seemed, and though I searched every face that passed me, none of them was the person I wanted so desperately to see. 

"Please," I murmured, not knowing who I was speaking to. Maybe I was praying. "Please, please, please." I took a deep, shuddering breath. 

A sense of calm washed over me.  Looking around was too much, so I'd kept my eyes focused only on what was in front of me. A man, with a broad back, carrying a backpack and a guitar case. He strode across the street and then crossed again, and I followed him. He was a musician, maybe he knew Beau? Maybe he would help me?

But he didn't turn, not even when I called out, "Excuse me?" I followed him and then stopped short when he suddenly dropped the guitar case. He opened it up and lifted his instrument, leaving the case wide open. Then he put the strap around his neck and began playing.

His raw, ragged voice was harsh, and he only seemed to know a few chords. I wondered what he was doing, suddenly playing there on the dirty sidewalk. 

And then, to my astonishment, a woman dropped a dollar bill into his open case and then kept walking. 

I gasped as another person, this time a man with matted hair hanging in ropes down his back stood and listened for a moment. He dropped a few coins into the case and then walked on. 

My heart was pounding in my throat and suddenly I knew how I could get home. 

I walked away from the guitar player, not wanting to have to compete with him. The street suddenly opened out into a canyon of neon. Blinking, scrolling signs in more colors than I knew were possible, strobed around me, and streams of people swarmed past. 

This seemed like the best possible place I could find. I wrinkled my nose and pulled a discarded plastic cup from one of the trash barrels and set it down on the sidewalk in front of me. Then I took a step back and started to sing. 

The ache inside of me was person-shaped, a hole the size and weight of the man I loved. I sang that ache, pouring my hope that someday I might fill it again with Beau's love. I sang the hymn that I'd sung for him when he called me an angel, and an old woman stopped and watched me with tears in her eyes.  I sang the song we were supposed to sing at the open mic, and three teenagers ran up and dropped a five dollar bill in my dirty cup. I smiled my thanks and kept on singing every song I knew. I sang loudly, without worrying about vanity or sin. I sang with all my heart, but my voice was getting tired. 

I glanced down at my cup. It was stuffed with dollar bills. Maybe there was enough to get something to eat, something to soothe my throat. That's all the time I would take, and then I'd come right back out here and sing until I had enough money to get back where I belonged. 

With Beau.

I cleared my throat. One last song before I went. I closed my eyes and tried to remember how it had felt, standing there next to the piano as Claire played. When Beau had come in and watched that first voice lesson. Then I began to sing that feeling. 

There was a shout and the screech of tires. A man was running, running right toward me and shouting my name even though I didn't know him. 

Wait. Those eyes.

Yes, I did! 

"Beau!" I shouted, rushing to the clean-shaven man who had vaulted to curb to stand frozen in front of me with his mouth open in shock.

"What are you doing here?" we both said at the exact same time. 

"Where is your beard?" I asked at the same time he wondered, "What happened to your hair?"

Pure joy bubbled up in my chest. "We both lost some hair," I babbled, reaching up to touch his smooth face. "You look so different."

"You're still beautiful," he murmured, brushing his fingers along the hacked strands. "Maybe even more so."

I launched myself into his arms and he crushed me to his chest, then slammed his lips over mine. I kissed him back hungrily, ignoring the shouts and jeers from the people having to step around us on the sidewalk.

When he pulled back, he looked concerned and gently raised his fingers to brush away the tears that were now streaming down my face. "I fucked up," he confessed. 

I wiped away my tears and laughed. "No, I'd say I was the one who fucked up."

He grinned to hear me swear. Behind him, Jonah, Gabe, Finn, and Claire finally caught up. "Holy shit," Finn gasped. "You really did hear her from all the way across the street."

But Beau wasn't even looking at them. His eyes were fixed on me, like if he blinked, he was afraid I'd disappear. "I don't care that you can't have kids," he whispered. "I just want to be with you because I—"

"I love you," we both said at the exact same time. He folded me into his arms again and I knew once and for all that I was exactly where I belonged.