Thirty #2
He looks away, pivoting to maneuver the rectangular box into an open spot near the wall, and I realize I’ll probably never
get to see that unguarded smile again.
“It was on sale,” Joe says, before Sera can ask. “A dresser.”
“We have a dresser.”
“But this one is solid oak. The other one is particleboard.”
Sera is giving him what can only be described as a wifely look. “I thought you went for a wrench.”
He palms the back of his head. “We may have forgotten that.”
“Are you kidding me?” They start arguing, and I take the chance to slither out of the closet, but that leaves Gavin and me
with nothing to do but stand in awkward silence.
After a moment, he says, “I didn’t realize you’d be here.”
“Same. I wouldn’t have come—”
“It’s fine.” He heaves an audible sigh. “When I said I didn’t want to be friends, I didn’t mean we’d have to avoid each other
forever.”
“What’s the alternative?”
He shrugs. A quick, jerky motion, like he’s uncomfortable. “Coexist, I guess.”
“Right. Simple.”
“You do just fine with Ted.”
I turn toward him, scowling. “Are you kidding me?”
He shrugs again, not meeting my eyes. “You seem to think I’m just like him.”
“Sorry that you don’t know what it’s like to be related to an ex,” I say, temper rising.
“Stop using what happened with him as an excuse when we both know the truth is you’re never going to trust anyone enough to
fall in love because life isn’t one of your carefully scripted romance novels.”
There’s an audible gasp, and we both turn to find Joe and Sera gaping at us. Joe’s mouth is open, and Sera’s brows are nearly
touching her hairline. This is the first time they’ve heard us fight. One of the few times we’ve fought, period. It feels
all wrong.
Goose bumps break out on my skin, but inside I’m burning up, and I wonder distantly if I’m about to faint. But since this isn’t one of my precious books, as Gavin pointed out, no well-timed swoon overtakes me. “I have the right to protect my heart,” I tell him, unable to let it go.
“And I have the right not to go along with a charade,” he says. “I can’t shut off my feelings and go back to being friends
just because it’s easier for you.”
“Then you never should’ve kissed me in the first place.”
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have.” He crosses to the door, and a moment later, his truck engine rumbles to life, punctuating
the absolute silence in the nursery.
I can’t bear to look at my friends. “I didn’t mean to bring our mess here. Stress can’t be good for the baby.”
Sera waves a hand. “Please. I binged an entire season of The Real Housewives the other day. But, Mia,” she says, and licks her lips, “you do realize that’s the first time I’ve seen you two fight.”
“We argue.” Never so intensely. I’ve always felt that I could be honest around him, and bottling things up has me feeling
like a simmering pot.
“Maybe.” She looks doubtful. “But not like that. It’s like we weren’t even here.”
My shame grows. I’ve managed to mess up so much today. “I’m sorry. I never would’ve come if I knew he was here.” Where would
I have gone, though? To Kim’s, maybe. But the thought of not being able to see two of my closest friends when I’m hurting
because I might run into Gavin...
“You’re not understanding,” she says. “Whatever is going on with you two, it doesn’t look like it’s over.”
Joe nods, still looking stunned. “Believe me when I say, that man has feelings for you.”
“Serious ones,” Sera adds.
“He thinks he does, but it’s all just a product of circum stance.” I tell them about the trope tests. No point in holding back now that all hell’s broken loose.
When I finish, they share the kind of look that seems to be reserved for married couples. “So you’re saying his feelings aren’t
real?” Sera asks. “Just the result of a bunch of romantic situations you put yourselves in?”
“Like sitting around in your home office, visiting a run-down escape room, and doing yard work?” Joe says.
“Superromantic,” Sera adds.
I let out a frustrated huff. “You weren’t there, okay? It wasn’t about where we were or what we were doing, it was about—”
“Who you were with?” He punctuates his words with a romance hero–worthy smirk. “Admit it. You could’ve done those things with
a hundred other men and never once caught feelings.”
Sera jumps in to back him up. “You’ve gone on how many dates to fancy restaurants, and concerts... Didn’t one of your boyfriends
rent out a wing of the art museum for your birthday?”
“It was his friend’s gallery, but yeah.”
“And in all of those romantic settings, did you ever once fall in love?” She knows the answer. “Where are those men? All I
see is you, standing there, claiming you think you feel something for Gavin because of a few of the least romantic scenarios
I’ve ever heard of.”
I open my mouth. Close it. Unable to argue that point, I try another tack. “Let’s say you’re right, and our feelings have
nothing to do with the experiments. It doesn’t change the fact that friendship is a guarantee. Love is the gamble.”
“You’ve never lost a friend?” she asks. “What about Martha?”
“We can’t count Martha.” An old coworker of mine. “She was an outlier.”
“She was a toxic, jealous human. But she was also your friend for three years. And now she’s not.”
“But what about Stewart? We would still be friends if we hadn’t dated,” I say, remembering how terrible it felt to lose one of my first friends in the publishing world.
“No you wouldn’t, because he was a possessive, presumptuous weirdo,” she says. “All relationships are gambles. Are romantic
relationships more risky since there’s a deeper level of emotion and entanglement involved? Maybe. Or maybe for people who
are deeply compatible, interested in a lifetime of love, they’re just as likely to last forever as a friendship.”
With a glance at his wife, Joe says, “True love, real love, won’t turn your life upside down. It will make your life make
sense.”
Isn’t that what I was thinking about Gavin’s potential move? That if we were together, things would fall into place?
But I have evidence to the contrary. “I’ve tried dating friends. One of them is now my brother-in-law.”
“Ted wasn’t the guy for you,” Sera says. “But his and your sister’s marriage is going strong all these years later. Think
of it this way.” She settles her hands on her small belly, fingers laced. “You can’t be the main character in every story.
Just your own.”
I think back to the night I met Gavin, moments after Ted told me he was in love with my sister. It was the end of our brief
romance. But for Ted and Kim, that night was the moment he started to fight for his happy-ever-after—finally getting up the
courage to tell me he was in love with her.
Maybe I shouldn’t be looking at that night as the end of my story with Ted, but the start of mine and Gavin’s. Not a sad ending,
but a meet-cute. The beginning of our love story. What if that breakup wasn’t a lesson in how to guard my heart, but how to
open it up to the right person?