Thirty-Five
Mia
Gavin’s hand is in mine, rough with dirt from working in the soil, warm from the sun, and I never want to let go.
He’s leading me toward a tall chain-link construction fence lined with black fabric that wasn’t here before. We’re at the
other vacant lot the crew was cleaning up, the one with the shed where Morris found the kittens. But the shed is gone, or
at least not visible, since the fence makes it impossible to see what’s inside most of the lot.
I don’t understand why they’re working here when cleanup finished already, or why Joe’s standing beside Riley and Morris,
in gardening gloves and a neon long-sleeve tee looking at home among the crew. They’re all gathered outside the gate, clearly
trying to play it cool, but Riley’s toothy grin would be a dead giveaway even if Gavin hadn’t already told me to expect a
surprise.
Ted’s holding the ridiculous balloons, and I’m sure even without seeing our linked hands, everyone here knows we’re a couple. But my worries about passing the point of no return have vanished. This feels like how it was meant to be all along. Gavin and me, in love.
We reach the group, and he says, “Thought I’d have more time to finish this before I showed you.”
“Didn’t stop him from guilting us into helping him work on it,” Morris says, and Riley elbows him. “What? I just don’t want
him to take all the credit.”
“Mia helped out at the other lot,” she says. “During Community Give-back weekend we cleared out all the bushes.”
“Had the blisters to prove it,” I agree, raising my hand to show them, though it’s already healed.
Gavin squeezes my shoulder. “I still feel awful about your soft writer hands.”
“Soft?” I fake a scowl. “Let’s see you churn out ten thousand words in a day while on deadline. Calluses or not, these hands
get the job done.”
“They do,” he agrees. And it might be my imagination, but I swear there’s a wicked twinkle in his eye. “Soft but mighty.”
He drops his voice. “Not a bad thing to be vulnerable sometimes,” he says against my ear, and the barest caress of his lips
sends tingles up my spine.
“Quit flirting and show her already,” Riley says, and this time, Morris nudges her.
“It’s all about timing,” he says. “Let the man have his moment.”
“On that note,” Joe says, “we’ll leave you to it.” He takes off his gloves and tucks them in his back pocket. Passing by,
he pauses, voice pitched low so the others won’t hear. “Sera’s expecting an update on the happy couple after the premiere.”
I laugh, knowing he’s not talking about me and Gavin.
Ted follows, and I offer a quick smile of gratitude. He grins back. “Guess you found another ride to the airport?” I look
up at Gavin to confirm and he dips his chin in a nod.
“She did. Thanks, man.” He and Ted are always civil, but there’s a new undercurrent of respect in Gavin’s voice that warms my heart.
The others head out, too, Riley shushing Morris’s complaint about doing all that work only to miss the big reveal. When they’re
gone, I heave a sigh of relief. I love Gavin and I don’t care who knows, but I’m grateful for this moment to ourselves.
“Close your eyes.” He turns so he’s standing directly in front of me. “Or better yet, can I borrow this?” He points at the
scarf I’ve tied around my curls.
“What if I promise to not peek?”
“You cheat at every game.”
I don’t bother to deny it. “I’ll look a mess if I take it off now.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t have to, but you look beautiful, always.”
Cheeks warm, I unwind it and hand him the length of cloth.
“Not how I imagined this going,” he says, winding the scarf around my eyes. “But maybe even better.” He comes around behind
me and the scarf pulls tighter, a light pressure against the back of my head. “This okay?” he asks, breath warm against my
neck, and my whole body lights up with sensation.
I start to nod, then swallow. “Yes.”
His hand settles on my shoulder, fingertips sliding along the seam of my shirt. Lips press against my neck, and I melt back
against him, steady, like he’s always been, but now he’s mine.
Another kiss, this one to the sensitive spot just behind my ear. “We’ll have to remember this,” he says, and I don’t know
if he’s talking about the blindfold or the moment we reconciled, but I breathe out my answer.
“Yes.”
Then his presence at my back is gone and he takes my shaky hands in his. I keep my eyes pinched shut as promised but picture
him in front of me, tall and sturdy, a joyful, cautious grin lighting up his blue eyes. Tugging gently, he leads me forward,
step by small step. “Almost there,” he says. “Stay here.”
I wobble with uncertainty as he lets go. The creak of hinges reaches my ears, followed by the hiss of grass scraped by the metal gate, then he’s back.
“No peeking.”
“I’m not.” But impatience tinges my words, and he chuckles.
“It’s killing you not to.”
“And you’re loving it,” I grumble, but he puts a gentle hand on my shoulder, stopping me.
“We’re here.” I fight the urge to tug off the blindfold, rewarded when he does it for me, loosening the knot with a gentle
tug until the fabric slips free.
I’m startled to find we’re standing in the middle of a garden.
“Don’t be too harsh,” he says. “It’s a work in progress.”
I know a thing or two about those, but it doesn’t look like the early stages of a project. An arched entry swoops overhead,
painted letters in bold hues proclaiming FIFTH STREET COMMUNITY GARDEN LIbrARY, and below, ALL ARE WELCOME.
The overgrown lot I pass by on my coffee-shop commute is now a beautiful garden with wrought iron benches placed under freshly
planted trees along the paved paths. Flowering bushes frame the boundary, with a sprawling fountain made out of river rocks
as the focal point.
“Gavin, it’s gorgeous.” A clear-front cabinet near the entrance catches my eye, and I walk over, peering inside at shelves
lined with books. Some have well-loved covers, the colors faded, spines creased. Others look brand-new. I look around and
see several more enclosed shelves along the path.
Overcome, I turn and find Gavin standing with hands in his pockets, bashful. “How long have you been planning this?”
“Thinking of it?” He bites his lip. “A long time. You helped me fall in love with reading, and I wanted to honor that by making
a space where the community could gather and enjoy books.”
“So you’ve had this in the works for a while.” Legs feeling wobbly, I sit on a nearby bench and take it all in, unable to believe what he’s done in just a few days.
He palms his neck, looking shy. “Yes, long before I realized I was in love with you. But I think a part of me has always known.”
If I had to craft the perfect declaration of love, and I do, many times over, I couldn’t have come up with anything so perfect.
But I don’t need to create this grand gesture, because Gavin already has, for me. I hold his words in my heart. Let them sink
in and take root.
He comes closer and sits next to me. “I wanted to believe that what we had was just friendship. But with you, it’s both. I
can’t separate how much I love spending time with you from how much I want to kiss you. Hold you. Make you mine. Once upon
a time, my dad told me to never marry my best friend, but I never expected my best friend would be you.”
And that’s when I know with absolute certainty that I don’t want to settle for just okay. I want to be with the man who’s
loved me in every season. Who’s always been a midnight text away.
Unable to bear even the smallest space between us, I scoot closer to him, awed by the beauty around us, the unrealized potential
he brought to life. “I thought I needed to know how things would end to fall in love, but it turns out all I needed was to
be on the journey with you.”
I’m surprised to feel so at ease confessing my feelings, but then again, I’ve never felt the need to censor myself around
Gavin. Turning to him, I say, “I love you, Gavin, and I’m ridiculously happy every moment I’m with you.”
“Except when we’re telling the characters in rom-coms to just kiss already.”
“You’re right,” I tell him. “That’s downright blissful.”
He laughs and presses a kiss to my forehead. “I love you, Mia.”
“As a friend?” I can’t resist teasing, but his expression turns solemn, full of love and promise.
“As everything.”