Thirty-Three
Mia
Much as I’m yearning to see Gavin, I decide to wait to talk to him until after he gets back from Wisconsin. I stand by what
I told him about not wanting to affect his decision about his future. He deserves space to make his choice.
But I’ve already decided—whatever he chooses, I want him. I love him, and if he loves me back, we’ll make it work, just like
we have for nearly a decade of friendship.
Focusing on work is hard, but with just over a week to finish the book, I block out distractions the best I can. Now that
I know the way forward, I lean hard on my routine, using my years of consistent writing practice to power through, writing
around the clock in a creative haze that feels like clarity. Even though I haven’t let myself dwell on the possibility, the
truth is that I might not get a second chance with Gavin, but I can do right by Sydney and Victor. Then I plan to fight for
the future I want in my own life.
Instead of shying away from my feelings, I let the emotions pour out of my characters.
Until now, they haven’t been honest with themselves or each other.
On page, they stop holding back and freely give what I wasn’t ready to.
They embrace the unknown future because they know they’re each other’s surety.
The days pass in a haze of coffee and short sleeps and words, so many words. It’s like the faucet’s been left on and the sink
is overflowing and instead of bothering to shut it off, I dive into the flood. When I finally come up for air, I realize almost
a week has passed. I make myself eat a handful of raw veggies to supplement the random food I’ve been eating and text Kim
and Sera so they don’t drop by to check on me. Water the monstera and gardenia and then get a good night’s sleep. The next
day I read through the book in one sitting, and not only do I love it, I’m proud of it. I shake out my wrists, take a deep
breath, and send the manuscript to my editor.
The book is finished, again, and this time it ends with them trusting in their love. There will be revisions ahead, ways to
make the story better, but the heart of their journey is written, and it’s good and strong and beautiful. However things work
out—whether the studio takes my version or not—I’ve done my best. I’ve written a happy-ever-after worthy of Sydney and Victor,
and now I need to focus on my own.
That starts with revisiting an old wound to make things right. Time for the conversation that I should’ve had with my sister
nearly ten years ago when I found out she reciprocated Ted’s feelings. I was so focused on not standing in her way that I
pushed down my hurt instead of dealing with it. So here we are, facing each other over giant Italian beef sandwiches, the
first hot food I’ve had all week.
While we waited to place our order at the counter, we stuck to small talk. I was dying to tell her about Rob and Jayla, but
not here. This is my first time being in on a celebrity secret and I’m not about to risk being the one to leak it.
She gave me a big celebratory hug for turning in the manuscript, and I listened to her frustration over glitches in a new portal the school uses to communicate with parents.
But now that we’re seated in a red-upholstered corner booth, she’s obviously done settling for anything less than a full recounting of what’s going on with me.
Ignoring her food, which is never a good sign, she asks, “How are things with you and Gavin?”
“Right now, there is no me and Gavin.” I take a steadying breath. “He thought we were putting on a show for you. My fault,
since I’m the one who said I wanted to keep things a secret. I never got the chance to tell him that I didn’t plan to act
in front of you, and he had no idea what was real and what wasn’t.”
“Why didn’t you tell him before we got started?”
I spin my fork on the table, searching for the right words. “I thought he understood that I had explained the real situation
to you. And I was working up to a declaration. But seeing you and Ted reminded me of the stakes. How there was no guarantee
he’d return my feelings. He could end up with someone else, and I’d have to stand by and be happy for him.”
“That’s how you feel? That you have to pretend to be happy for me?” Her voice falters, and my stomach twists.
“For a while, yes,” I answer honestly. “It felt like having to watch you have something I’d never experience.”
“Mia—”
I put up my hand. I’ll hear her out, but I have to say this first so she understands. “I don’t have to pretend to be supportive
anymore. Not for years. But at first, I was hurt.” I take a drink of the water I chose over my usual chocolate malt, not trusting
myself to stomach a rich milkshake.
“I kept it to myself because I didn’t want to stand in your way. But I didn’t realize burying that hurt gave it the chance
to sink its roots into my heart. Roots of doubt about love and trust. It made me scared to give my whole heart away.” I pull
off a piece of the crusty roll, crumbling it to bits between my fingertips. “That’s how I made it through breakups. Even though
it hurt, it was never heartbreak.”
My sister’s brown eyes are soft with concern, and I fear I’ll hurt her by saying this is why I’ve held back for so long. But I have to trust she’ll understand. I need her support more than ever if I’m going to make a go of things with Gavin.
“I want you to know that this isn’t about you and Ted,” I say. “It’s about what I’ve internalized. And I realized recently,
looking at it from your perspective, you probably had it worse. I can laugh about the irony because I was never in love with
him. But you are, and knowing he dated me first, even for a little while, was probably awful.”
She gasps out a choked laugh. “You have no idea.”
My heart goes out to her. “I didn’t, because I’ve never had feelings that big. But I get it now. If Gavin dated you before
me, I would be so jealous. Yet you comforted me and let me know that our sisterhood was your priority.”
The next part will be hard to say. Confessing aloud will make my feelings for Gavin real. Feelings that might end in heartbreak,
because I can’t hold anything back with him, even though I tried.
“I’ve never let myself consider dating Gavin because I care about him so much,” I tell her. “I knew going beyond friendship
could be catastrophic because I wouldn’t be able to say it didn’t matter when it ended. And I couldn’t bear being a stepping
stone to his happy-ever-after.”
“Oh, Mia.” Kim scoots around to my side of the booth, wrapping me in a hug. “You’re no one’s stepping stone.” She pulls away.
“Ted never should’ve dated you, feeling how he did, but he wasn’t the only one in the wrong. If I would’ve told you how I
felt instead of bottling it up...”
“Then I never would’ve dated him in the first place,” I say, agreeing. “But you were looking out for me, too, by hiding your
feelings. And believe me, I’ve long since gotten over it. The root is what needed weeding. I thought that I had to keep my
feelings to myself so your relationship with Ted wouldn’t come between us, but that wasn’t giving either of us enough credit.”
“I don’t ever want you to hold back your feelings to spare mine.
We can work through things together, but only if we’re honest.” She hugs me again, an awkward jumble of elbows and arms that reminds me of how she used to give me piggyback rides when we were kids.
“I felt like I was on eggshells sometimes,” she says.
“But bringing it up felt cruel to you. And to myself, if I’m honest. I don’t love thinking about you two ever being together, even though I know it was so long ago.
But I played a part in it, too. I was so willing to accept your explanation that you hadn’t felt anything for him, but how could you not have?
You were friends. I should’ve tried harder to make sure you were okay. ”
One more tight hug, then she pulls away, expression as stern as when she used to babysit me and took the charge seriously.
“I know you said you’ve started to untangle what you’ve internalized for this, but I would be heartbroken to hear you’d let
this keep you from Gavin. He loves you, I’m sure of it.”
I’ve never doubted his love, but I’m afraid I pushed it to the breaking point. “I love him, too. So much.” Saying it aloud
is a mix of nerves and wonder, but mostly relief. “I just hope it’s not too late. How’s he going to trust me after I rejected
him?”
She picks up her milkshake and offers it to me like medicine. “From what you said, you were trying to protect your heart.”
“But it doesn’t need protecting from him.”
She smiles. “Bingo.”
My next stop is a visit to Evie. She’s at her day job in the admin building, but I bring her an iced green tea from our favorite
café and apologize for not catching her up on all the events of the past few weeks sooner.
“I’ve been thinking about something Gavin said during the trope tests,” I tell her, when she asks how I got to this place
of certainty. “How I purposely seek out guys who aren’t my type. And I realized it was because I wanted to keep some of my
love in reserve. I was scared to love anyone as much as I love him.”
Leaning back in her desk chair, she frowns. “You’ve been trying to find someone you love less than him?”
“Not consciously, but yeah.” Sounds wild to think about. How could I have not known how much more was waiting for us? “That’s
when I realized he’s always been the one for me. I just have to be brave enough to love him with my whole heart.”
“You’re plenty brave,” she says.
“I basically told the man I love that he should stop loving me.”
“Okay, yes.” She taps her highlighter against the edge of the desk. “But you finished the book. All along, you said you couldn’t
write it because you didn’t see a way for them to stay together, but I also think you were scared of sharing a story so close
to you. Which I get.” She knows better than anyone the vulnerability of sending a book out into the world. “But you did it
anyway. For yourself, but also to do right by people you care about. You’re braver than you think. Own it.”
“You’re saying I should go big?” A grand gesture leaves no room for holding back.
“Do it. Make Sydney and Victor proud.”
Sydney and Victor. The idealistic, hopeful parts of myself. I’m ready to start believing again.
I’ve written my fair share of fictional grand gestures, but in real life there are constraints like scheduled flights and
press appearances, not to mention contending with the terrifying possibility that this might be the last time you see the
person you’re madly in love with.
Now that I’ve realized I’m in love with Gavin, I’m desperate to tell him in a way that matches the magnitude of my feelings.
Normally I’d be spending the days before the premiere in full glam mode—hair, mani-pedi, a facial. An appointment with the
stylist I treated myself to after landing on a worst-dressed list at my first Hollywood event.
But this time around my top priority isn’t finding the per fect braiding hair or shade of gel polish.
I’m in the stationery store, scanning the shelves.
This time it’s not procrastination or feeding my notebook habit.
Gavin is due back from Wisconsin tomorrow, the day I fly to Los Angeles.
A narrow window for a grand gesture, and I barely slept last night arranging the details.
This is the last step, and I want to get it right. A few other customers are in the shop, but no one pays me any attention
as I flip through the cards.
Amari walks up in an ink-stained apron, a pen tucked behind her ear. “What are you shopping for today?”
“I need your help with a grand gesture.”
Her entire face lights up with a wide smile. “You’re kidding.” When I shake my head, she says, “Wait, literal or figurative?
Like, are we talking for a character or...”
“For real.” I’m counting on her discretion, but I’m also willing to risk the internet finding out I put it all on the line
for Gavin. “I’m in love with my best friend.”
I figured this would be boring compared to a potential celeb couple, but she squeals. “Like Sydney and Victor?”
For once, I don’t bristle at the comparison. “Exactly. Except in this case, there’s no happy-ever-after guaranteed.”
She clutches clasped hands to her chest. “Even more romantic. Whoever this is for, I hope they deserve it.”
“He deserves everything, because he’s given me all of himself.”
Her eyes lose the starry look and her lips tug to the side. “That line could use some work. But I’m sure you’ll get it together
when you write it.”
Nothing like being humbled by a fan. “Actually, I have,” I tell her, pulling a slip of paper out of my pocket. “Could I put
in a rush order for custom calligraphy? I need an invitation.”
“It would be my absolute pleasure. Any chance I could get a mention in the acknowledgments of your next book?”
“You have a deal.” I just hope typing her name won’t be a reminder of the first time I wrote a grand gesture that failed.