Twenty-Three #2
He sits back, head cocked. “You mean, what happens if I decide to take over for Dad?”
Caught up in the whirlwind of the past few days, I’d managed to banish thoughts of him leaving, but they come roaring back
with a vengeance. Contemplating a relationship when we don’t even know what our friendship will look like in six months seems
like madness.
But if we were together, Gavin moving would almost be easier than if we were friends. No need to make up excuses to visit
each other, or worry about overstaying our welcome... And somehow I’ve invented a reality where dating Gavin makes sense,
is plausible, even. Could it be that after all these years, dating would be easier?
But that possibility doesn’t take into account the potential of a breakup and all the messy hurt feelings that go along with
it.
“Trying this out is one thing. But what happens if it ends?” It’s embarrassing how easy it is to remember the shame of telling
my sister’s now-husband that I had feelings for him. Gavin and I are at the beginning, yet already my heart breaks at the
thought of him trading me in for someone he loves more. Am I so afraid of heartbreak that I’m scared to let myself love?
“I can’t promise it will work, and I know you don’t expect me to.” Gavin’s voice is rough, but this time it’s gruff with emotion.
“But if things don’t work out between us, there is no world where I would stop being in your life. Not unless you didn’t want
me in it. There is nothing that could happen between us where I wouldn’t want to complain about relief pitchers with you or
vent about Morris’s latest antics. I think it’s pretty clear that I want more. But I will never settle for less, not for as
long as you want my friendship.”
“Always.” A lot is uncertain right now. Whether I’ll finish this book in time, what’s next for my career, what my relationship with Gavin will look like in the future.
But one thing I know is I want him in my life.
“I’m just worried we’re rushing things.” I keep thinking of the scene that hijacked my plot last night: Sydney and Victor’s friends and family asking them questions they weren’t prepared to answer.
“This isn’t a book, Mia,” he says. “We don’t have to worry about the right pacing. We can just do what feels right for us.
There are no rules.”
I like rules, though. Organized outlines and scene progressions. But one thing I’ve learned from writing romance is that happiness
is never achieved without taking risks and going for what you want. And what I want is a real date with Gavin.
Hands wrapped around the coffee mug, I ask, “What would you do if you were here on a date?”
“I never bring dates here. This is our spot,” he says, eyes never leaving mine. “But if this were a real date, with you, I’d
want to get closer.”
I want that, too, the ache to be near him surprising only in that it’s not all that unexpected. I’m used to wanting him close,
even if craving his touch is new. But it feels right. It feels good, to want him this way.
Before I can second-guess the urge, I scoot over to make room. He grins and stands up, then slides in next to me.
“Is this okay?” He grazes a finger over my knuckles.
“Mmm-hmm.” I feel like I can’t see him, though, so I make use of what little space I have and shift to face him, pulling my
leg up on the booth, wedging myself between the table and the wall and Gavin. My shin is pressed along his thigh. It’s familiar
and comfortable but somehow brand-new. “Different.”
“But good?” He lays his arm along the top of the booth, fingertips brushing my shoulder.
“Very good.”
“I know you’re worried about how all this will work,” he says, sweeping his thumb along my collarbone. “I get that things are different. But, Mia, I like you so much.”
He leans in and presses a kiss to my lips, like he can’t help himself. And neither can I. I wrap my fingers around the smooth
swell of his biceps, anchoring him, or maybe me, because this kiss is unspooling me. Taking me away to an alternate reality
where we’re not Mia and Gavin, just friends, but Mia and Gavin, in love.
Love . The forbidden word slips into my consciousness like a whisper. It’s how I’ve felt about him for years, but deeper, or maybe
higher, like the pinnacle of a coaster when your stomach is in your throat but the safety bar is keeping you grounded. Elation,
and safety, too.
This isn’t just anyone, it’s my best friend, and I can trust him. His mouth on mine is sweet, hungry. My fingers can’t help
but trace his stubbled jaw, grip the trimmed hair at his nape. His mouth coaxes mine open, asking for more, and I give it,
sweeping my tongue against his. Kissing him doesn’t feel like a risk. It feels like everything finally makes sense.
The bell above the door chimes, startling us apart, but his eyes hold mine, irises swallowed up by his pupils, like he’s taking
me in. Sunlight from the wall of windows falls on his hair, highlighting the range of hues from cedar to pine, and nestles
in the hollow of his throat, illuminating his hammering pulse.
I’m breathing too fast, too hard for such a brief touch. But every time our lips meet, it feels like something I’ve waited
my whole life for.
And if I’m certain of anything, it’s that after today, friendship will never be enough. But if this doesn’t work out, it will
have to be.
My phone buzzes in my purse, and when I pull it out, I see Serafina’s calling.
I mute it, looking over my shoulder by reflex.
We’re overdue to hang out, but between work and her preparation for the new baby, we haven’t found a time to catch up, which means she doesn’t have a clue what’s going on here.
“Aren’t you going to answer?” he asks.
“What if she hears you?”
“She’ll think we’re hanging out.” He shrugs, not seeing the issue.
“Yeah, but we’re hanging out .” I take a deep breath, trying to explain. “This is a big deal. I know your nephews’ birthdays, for goodness’ sake.”
His lips curve in a confused grin. “How is that relevant?”
“How is it not?” I wave my arms, flailing metaphorically and physically. “We’re wrapped up in each other’s lives, Gavin. We’re
friends .” The word comes out pained, and I rush to explain. “We know everything about each other. You were there when I came out
of anesthesia for my wisdom teeth surgery.”
His smile dips, like he’s catching on, and not liking the implication. “That means we can’t be more?”
“No. It means we’re way past the first date here.” And the thought of Sera finding out, or any of our friends and family,
means more potential fallout if this ends.
He nods, his expression thoughtful. “About that... There’s somewhere I’d like to take you.”
Which is how I find myself agreeing to go on a real date with Gavin, the exact thing I hoped to avoid at the start of all
this. But this time, there’s no pretending our feelings are fake. I like him and he likes me, and if the date ends in disaster,
we won’t be able to find refuge in each other like we normally do.
Who we are to each other has already changed, and I’m not sure I’m ready.