It Starts with Us by Colleen Hoover

I pause gathering my things and walk closer to the door so I can hear
Josh’s response.
“You did?” There’s a new excitement in Josh’s voice. “Does he know
we’re coming?”
“No, I only got his address. I don’t know how to get in touch with him.
But you were right: He’s in Vermont.” I can hear the dread Atlas is
attempting to cover up in his voice all the way from his bedroom. God, I hate
this for him.
I hear Josh running toward his room. “He is going to be so shocked!”
I finish packing with a heavier heart. When I walk back into the kitchen,
Atlas is standing in front of the sink, staring out the window into his
backyard. He doesn’t hear me, so I put my hand on his shoulder.
He immediately pulls me in and kisses me on the side of my head. “I’ll
walk you to your car.”
He carries my bag to the car and places it in the backseat. I open my door,
but we hug again before I climb inside.
This is the kind of hug Atlas gave me when he showed up at my apartment
needing a hug that night. It’s long and sad, and I don’t want to let go of him.
“What do you think is going to happen when you get there?” I ask.
Atlas finally releases me, but keeps his hand on my hip while he leans
against my car. He sighs, threading his finger through a belt loop on my
jeans. “I don’t know. Why do I feel so worried for him?”
“Because you love him.”
Atlas’s eyes scroll over my face. “Is that why I always feel worried for
you? Because I love you?”
My breath hitches at his question. “I don’t know. Do you?”
Atlas digs his fingers into my waist, and he pulls me to him. He lifts his
hand and traces a finger down my neck, until it meets my tattoo. “I’ve loved
you for years and years and years, Lily. You know that.” He moves his finger
and then kisses me there, and that move coupled with his words takes
everything in me to keep my composure.
“I’ve loved you for just as long.”
Atlas nods. “I know you have. No one on this earth loves me like you do.”
He cradles my head in both of his hands, and he tilts my face up to his and he
kisses me. When he pulls back, he looks at me longingly, like I’ve already
left and he’s already sad about it. Or maybe that’s just what I’m imagining he
feels, since that’s what I feel.