A little more than a week later, my last undergrad exam was finally over. I only had graduation left to get through, and I found myself with some alone time. Dillon was at his dad’s office. Christine was taking her last final. And I was packing up another box of stuff to bring over to Dillon’s place.

Or our place, actually, since I’d been slowly moving in with him. Most of my clothes were already there, and I was grabbing some of my random stuff today. Practically living with him was easier than I expected, and it made me worry less about how things were going to work after graduation.

Living together meant truly opening ourselves up. No keeping parts of ourselves hidden. Like when you have guests coming over and you didn’t want them to see all your shit. Instead of going through it all to clean it up, you shove it in a drawer to hide it away. That only worked with guests, though. Which meant I needed to really clean my shit up instead of just hiding it away...starting with that conversation I’d had with Sarah about thanking my donor’s family for the second chance they’d given me. I never would have had the happiness I’d found with Dillon without them. It didn’t seem right to move on to the next phase of our lives together without acknowledging their sacrifice in some way.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I dialed the number for Dr. Stewart’s physician’s assistant, Lisa. One of the advantages of being a patient there for several years was easier access when you had a question.

“Hey, Faith. Everything okay? We don’t have you down for your next appointment for another two and a half months. Did you need to come in sooner?”

I’d learned early on that Lisa was the kind of person whose mouth moved a hundred miles per minute, so you had to be quick if you wanted to get a word in edgewise. “No, I’m good. I was just wondering if it’s possible for me to reach out to my donor’s family. To say thank you.”

“There are rules against us disclosing their contact information.”

Disappointment crashed down on me. “Oh.”

“But you can write a letter, care of the transplant center. We’ll forward it to them for you.”

“Oh!” That time it was said in relief. “That would be amazing. So I just write the letter, drop it off to you guys, and you’ll take care of everything else for me?”

“Pretty much, yes. But you’ll want to make sure to not include your last name or where you live. The state is fine, just not the city. And it goes without saying, no contact information.”

“Great! I’d prefer not to wait until my next appointment, so I’ll probably stop in sometime this week with a letter.”

“We’ll see you then.”

Determined to move forward into my future with Dillon surrounded by positivity, I sat down to write my letter. Finding the right words to use was one of the most difficult things I’d ever done. By the time I was satisfied, I had rewritten it about a dozen times.

I started sobbing when I finished reading through the final version. Tears were streaming down my face as I tucked it into an envelope and put it in my purse. A quick glance at my phone showed that I still had an hour left before Dillon would be home, so I decided to grab a rideshare to the doctor’s office to drop it off. The driver kept sneaking glances at me through the rearview mirror. I was sure he thought there was something horribly wrong with me when he agreed to wait the five minutes I told him it would take before I came back out.

I took the stairs up four floors instead of waiting for the elevator. I was out of breath, red-faced, and bleary-eyed when I walked into Dr. Stewart’s office. I’d gone in there looking worse in the past, and one of the good things about being in a medical center was that nobody looked at me oddly as I walked up to the receptionist’s desk.

“Hey, Faith,” Susan greeted me. “Lisa sent me an email about an hour ago letting me know you might stop by sometime this week with a letter for your donor family. But I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

“Yeah.” I pulled the envelope out of my purse. “Once I had the idea in my head, I couldn’t let go of it. I know it’s been years, but it suddenly seemed so important. So I thought it would be best to get it done right away.”

“That sounds like a smart plan to me.” She held out her hand, and I reluctantly passed the letter over. She had to tug on it to get me to let go.

“Sorry, it feels like giving away a part of myself.”

“You’re putting it in good hands. I’ll make sure this gets forwarded as soon as possible,” she assured me.

“Thanks.” I flashed her an apologetic smile. “How long does that usually take?”

“A week, two at the most.”

“And then they’ll have it?”

She nodded. “Yes, Faith. You’ve done the hard part, and I’ll do the rest.”

“Thank you.”

“This is my favorite part of my job, but you’re welcome.” She beamed a smile at me.

I walked out with a matching grin on my face, feeling like I’d accomplished something good. My smile grew when we pulled up in the driveway and Dillon’s car was already there. But my eyes must’ve still been red-rimmed because as soon as he spotted me walking through the door, he rushed over.

“What happened? Are you okay? Did someone hurt you?” He cupped the sides of my face with his palms and tilted my head back. “You’ve been crying.”

“I swear you have an eagle eye.”

“When it comes to you? Damn straight I notice everything.” His thumbs swept across my cheeks. “Like your red-rimmed eyes and nose. What the fuck happened? And who the hell do I have to kill for hurting you?”

“Come sit down with me,” I urged, taking hold of his hand to lead him over to the couch in the living room. I stroked his arm, trying to calm him down. I was in awe over how he’d leapt into protective mode over me, just because he could tell I’d been crying. “I’m so damn lucky to have you.”

“No, baby. You’ve got that backwards. I’m the lucky one here, and I know it. And I’ve got no problem putting in the work to prove it to you.” He pressed a kiss against my lips. “But I can’t do that if you don’t tell me what made you cry.”

“I made myself cry over a letter I wrote to my donor family.” I scrunched up my nose and waited for his reaction because it sounded so ridiculous; me literally making myself cry.

“They let you do that? Communicate with your donor family?”

I explained to him about how the transplant center was going to forward the letter for me, and my reasons behind writing it.

“That’s so fucking beautiful, Faith. I’m proud as shit to know I’ve made you so happy that you wanted to do something like that.” He rested his forehead against mine. “Although I should technically kick my own ass for making you cry, even if it was indirectly.”

“What if I think you deserve a reward instead?” I closed the inch separating our lips. “For making me ridiculously happy?”

“You aren’t going to get any complaints from me.” He lifted me up and carried me into the bedroom. “If my woman wants to give me a reward, I’m going to let her.”

Lucky for me, my man felt like his reward earned me one in return.