31. Donovan
THIRTY-ONE
DONOVAN
“Which way do you want to go?” Beck asks when we get to the road.
“This way,” I say, turning left with no hesitation. Cleo trots obediently at our sides, seemingly happy to be on her favorite route.
“Is everything okay? How did your audition go?” Beck’s making a monumental effort to sound normal and give me the time of day, which is just like him, even though I don’t miss the way his eyes are rimmed red and his cheeks are splotchy.
He was crying recently. And it kills me to know it was probably because of me.
“Jack’s pretty pissed at me,” I say, avoiding his question because if I start telling him about that, I’ll have to explain everything, and I’m not quite ready to do that.
“Sorry, when they got home I just sort of—” He looks away from me. “I fell apart for a minute, but I’m good. Really.”
I selfishly hope that’s not entirely true, but I don’t comment. Instead, I say, “Well, he cares about you, and I was an asshole, so he’s got a right.” I’m glad that Beck has someone willing to stand up for him.
“You weren’t an asshole.” Beck’s always way too easy on me. Again, my heart leaps with hope.
“We can debate that later,” I say. “I’m glad they’re home, though.”
“Me too. Even if it means the end of my Nancy Meyers kitchen era.” He smiles to show he’s joking. We’re now on Turner Street, and my palms are sweating. Time’s running out and I don’t know if I have the words for what I need to tell Beck.
There’s so much to tell.
“You’ll have another one,” I say.
“Maybe. I’ll be too busy with the shop for a while to worry about anything else.”
“Still on track for Labor Day?”
“Yeah, I think so. I hired a baker yesterday, who can also do front of the house things if I need her to.”
“That’s great.”
“Did Joan read your play yet?”
“She did.”
“And?” He pokes me in the side, and I startle at the contact. It’s almost like it used to be, except the second after he does it, he yanks his hand back like I’ve got a steel trap under my shirt.
“And she really liked it. She has some notes, of course. But it was nice to hear that she didn’t think it was complete garbage. She’s going to research some places I can workshop it. Though I was thinking—” Wait. If I tell him about that, I’ll be getting ahead of myself.
We’re almost to the end of the cul-de-sac, anyway.
I take a breath. Okay, enough stalling.
“So you asked before how the audition went. It went really well—but it wasn’t actually an audition. It was an offer for a series of commercials. I signed the contract this morning, as a matter of fact.”
“Oh my god, that’s incredible. Congratulations!” Beck looks genuinely happy for me. “Is that why you stayed in the city?”
“Partly. I had some business to take care of. And some thinking to do. I didn’t want to come back here until I had something to, well, offer you.”
“What?”
We’re almost to the blue house, which seems like as good a place to stop as any. I pause under the shade of a leafy maple. It already has a few yellowing leaves. Autumn is on its way. Beck turns to face me.
“You are an incredible person,” I say, digging deep to find the right words. “And I took you for granted. I also spent most of the summer lying to myself. Look—you were right. I treated you like a boyfriend, without realizing I was craving that kind of relationship. And you made it easy for me to pretend we were just playing around, just in this for the summer. But I don’t want that anymore—I don’t know that I ever really did. I’m ready to admit that things have changed for me. I still love New York, but I don’t need to be there full time. I still love acting, but I like writing and teaching, too. I let being from a small town give me license to scorn them, but it turns out small towns really aren’t that bad. And you were right that I was letting what happened with Aidan stop me from growing up.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of things I was right about,” Beck says with a watery smile.
“I’m a stubborn person, but I’d like to think I know when to fold and when to go all in.” I take a step closer to Beck. He doesn’t move away. “You said once that I was your exception—but I don’t want to be your exception. I don’t want you to change for me. I want to be yours. Just yours.”
I search his face, but he doesn’t give anything away.
“And to sweeten the pot, because I know I’d be getting by far the better part of this deal, I have something for you.” I point to the blue house, a couple dozen feet behind him. “Noelle was about to call you to tell you she found the owner of the house, but I happened to get her on the phone first. I used my powers of persuasion to get her to work with me. The owner is happy to sell, Beck. Nothing’s in writing yet, but Noelle says she thinks a sale will happen. And if it doesn’t, I’ll find you another house where you can bake and listen to music full blast and get a dog. Cleo needs a cousin.”
Cleo’s been sitting calmly at our feet and now she wags her tail at the sound of her name. Beck looks over his shoulder at the house and then back at me. “You’re giving me a house?”
“Do you still want it?” I swallow and ask the real question. “Do you still want me?”
He closes his eyes, and my heart thumps with panic—one, two, three times—before he opens them again. “Yes.”
The panic turns to elation. “Yes—you mean you still love me?”
“Yes, you beautiful idiot.” He grins, but then freezes. “Wait. Do you love me?”
“Did I not say that before? Oh god, I am an idiot. Yes, I love you, Beckett Avery. And I know nothing about fixing up houses, but I want to fix this one up with you. I want to do it all with you.”
He throws his arms around me, and I cling to him as if he might change his mind at any moment. I hold him hard, relief at having him back where he belongs coursing through my entire body.
His mouth finds mine, and the kiss tastes sweeter than any I’ve ever had.
“Just to be clear,” he says, when our mouths are both red and shiny, “this isn’t a transactional relationship. You don’t have to buy me a house to get me to be with you.”
“And you don’t have to cook or bake me cookies to keep me with you,” I say, meaning it. “Though of course I will always gladly eat whatever you put in front of me.”
“So maybe we should buy the house together,” he says. “Fifty-fifty.”
“An even split?” I like that idea. My earnings from the commercial gig will cover the down payment, but it would be nice to have something left over for renovations. Between the two of us, we can make it happen.
“I can’t believe we’re going to live together,” Beck says as we slowly walk back to Wild Rose Lane. His hand has found its way to my back pocket, a reassuring weight against my left ass cheek and a promise of celebrating in a more intimate way later. Hopefully, Jack and Pete won’t mind if we call it an early night, too.
“I guess we’ll need to move into that new apartment anyway while we sort out the house purchase,” Beck says. “And who knows what kind of state the interior is in?”
He sounds unconcerned at the amount of work the blue house could end up needing. What the hell. It’ll be an adventure.
“Our friends might say we’re moving too fast,” I warn him.
“We’ll just remind them that we moved in together the first day we met, and it worked out okay.”
“After I got my act together,” I admit.
“And I got brave enough to ask for what I really wanted.”
We walk up the driveway and stop on the front steps, the place we had our very first kiss.
“I’m so grateful that what you want is me.” And then I kiss my boyfriend with all the love in my heart.