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Ben doesn't say anything. He can't. He opens his mouth to let the words out and nothing is there, and his body is much quicker than his brain is. His feet drag him forwards and his hands touch Leslie’s tear streaked cheeks and then he is kissing her, and she's kissing him back.
He doesn't pull away, not for a long time, but she doesn't seem to have any complaints about this. He wants to kiss her for all the times he wishes he could kiss her over the last seven months, and as long as he's kissing her, he can avoid the very real conversation that will take place as soon as this is over.
They will have to talk about where to go from here, talk about the circumstances surrounding their breakup. They'll have to have a long talk about trust, what it means to leave someone. It will take Ben months to trust her again.
Leslie is willing to wait for it.
They have their conversation. They have many conversations over several months, and they also share many kisses. They take it slow, and they become very deliberate in their movements. Everyday Leslie reminds Ben that she loves him, so he has a reminder that this is real, this is happening.
It takes Ben four more months to say the words himself, when they're standing in the doorway of their old apartment, reminding themselves of older times.
“We could move in again,” Leslie suggests, and she side-eyes Ben, as if to make sure this suggestion is okay.
“Okay,” Ben says, and he takes Leslie’s hand in his. “It's ours.”
“Ours,” she whispers. “We can do whatever the hell we want with it. As long as I'm going wherever you're going. I'm happy as long as I'm with you.”
“I love you,” Ben says, and though he didn't mean to say them, he means them with every bone in his body, with his entire heart, and no words feel more right in that moment.
When Leslie hears those three words, she releases a breath she's been holding for almost a year. “I love you, too.” She pulls herself into his chest and she imagines their future. Once murky, uncertain, and too scary to imagine, now so real and with intense clarity, and she's never wanted anything more than she wants this.
She wants a life with Ben. She wants everything with Ben. She wants to wake up next to him every morning and make breakfast with him. She wants to save him seats and make him laugh when she whispers jokes in his ear. She wants to sit by the river with him like they did when they were twenty and talk about what it means to be reckless, what it means to say “screw it.” She wants to exchange paper rings like they did at their high school graduation and one day— not today— exchange real rings in front of their friends and family. It will come. All will be well.
Ben opens the door to their apartment and they both sigh in unison. His fingers are back in her hair and her hands are in his pockets. She's wearing his Letters to Cleo tshirt and it smells like him again.
“Ben.”
“Hmm?”
Leslie smiles at him. “I love you and I like you.”
Ben kisses the top of her head. “I love you and I like you.”