“Listen very closely: I’ve listened to everything you just said and I love you. Do you hear me? I’ve heard all of it, and it’s the easiest thing in the world to love you. You don’t have to hide anything from me, because I love all of it, every little bit. You have to let me love it all, okay? I love you. Say it.”

I think—although I cannot be sure—that he might be crying.

“I love you.”

The airport blurs into another realm, lights, sounds, and people fading out. My heart is back in Falling Stars. “No, you goofball. Say that you are loved.”

“You love me.”

“Yes. I knew who you were when I fell in love with you, Wesley Koehler. I fell in love with you just the way you are. Now say it again.”

“You love me.”

“You bet I do. What parts of you do I love? Which ones?”

“You love all of them.”

“Good. Write it down so that you don’t forget. Carry it in your pocket. I loved you yesterday, I love you now, and I’ll love you in the morning. When I come home in five days, I’ll love you then, too, and I’ll tell you so to your face.”

“I . . .” His voice is raspy. “I cannot wait for that. Maybell, I love you so much, you have no idea. Every part of you. Everything.”

“I know you do.”

“Write it down,” he tells me.

We are both emotionally collapsed, so we hang up with the promise to talk again in a few hours after I land in Inverness, and then do another check-in after I make it safely to Beinn Dhearg, a B & B in Loch Ness.

Disconnected from his voice, I slowly inch back into my environment and reckon with the reality that not so long ago, we were on our first date. Now I am in the UK alone.

But.

And this is a but that Means Everything:

Somebody out there cares. Somebody out there loves me, every part of me. Everything.

[email protected]

 YOU RECEIVED AN ECARD!

Wesley ([email protected]) has sent you an ecard from American Greetings:

You are a whaley special person!

VIEW ECARD

[email protected]

 American Greetings: Here’s a copy of your ecard

Recipient: Wesley

Bzz bzz! You’re the bees’ knees!

VIEW ECARD

Maybell: Good morning! Still a little jet-lagged but first night at the b&b was pretty good. It is BEAUTIFUL here

Wesley: Well that’s because you’re there

Maybell: Awww Heading to the Dores Inn for a late lunch, then off to do some exploring. Will send you lots of pics! Prepare for your phone to be buzzing all day

Wesley: It feels weird to be here alone

Maybell: You’re never alone. I’m right there in your pocket.

Wesley:

Wesley: Very early here but I can’t sleep because I know you’re touring the highlands and isle of skye today. I looked up the weather and it’s supposed to be cold so please bring a jacket and plenty of water

Maybell: I’m going to need to buy another suitcase for the souvenirs I’m getting you. Don’t get your hopes up though because it’s mostly rocks and dirt

Wesley: My favorite

Maybell: Literally just glass jars with pebbles from Dores Beach, some interesting moss I found, and the tiniest wild yellow primrose with its roots intact

Maybell: I’m also taking notes. Copious notes. With terrible illustrations of local plants. I am a botanist now, basically

Wesley: No more, please, I can’t handle it. I am already a wreck of a person. What have you done

Maybell: Sorry

Wesley: No, you’re not

Maybell: Not at all, no

Wesley: Me neither. There’s still a little bit of me left if you want to destroy that too

Maybell: For your birthday I’ve decided to get you a sheep

Wesley: That’s it

Wesley: There’s nothing left

Maybell:

You ever think you were single for no reason and then you meet someone and realize you’ve been waiting for them without knowing it? I know I’m not the first to have this thought or to write it out. I’m sorry these words probably aren’t my own, because I want to give you original genius, but they’re the words that I feel and I wanted to share them with you.

Another evening in Loch Ness, and Wesley’s latest text is a heartbeat in my hand. I look down at his message, trying and failing yet again to come up with the deep, nuanced response it deserves. He thinks he’s alone in not being able to find the right words when he needs them, but he isn’t. Not even a little bit.

He makes me lose mine all the time, and all he has to do to accomplish that is be himself. His serious, darling, perfect self, whom I would not change a single thing about.

I am on a rocky shore overlooking a loch in the Scottish Highlands, yet another impossible-sounding statement I’ve made within the past couple of months. Life is starting to look less like going with the flow and more like steering the boat. Who knows where I might be a year from now? The possibilities are infinite.

I snap pictures: a boulder, clouds reflecting off the water, a tree. It’s been a long day of Loch Ness Monster searching, so I’m running low on new finds to capture on film and resort to artistic shots of my sneakers. Shadow puppets. An apple core that remains from my lunch.

I raise my camera phone to frame the dramatic panorama of mountain summits and valleys, swathed in mist. It’s a gray, gloomy day, with robust winds and a chill that leaches through my clothes, but perhaps this is the type of weather that will entice Nessie to pop her head above water. You never know.