Chapter Twenty-Seven The Cookie’s Full Circle #2
But I look closer, and there is so much love in this picture that I actually tear up.
The way Dad has his arm around Mom and is smiling at her with complete and utter awe.
The way Mom is looking at me like I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to her.
Yesterday they told me that they had been deeply in love when I was born, and I didn’t really believe it.
But their love is as clear as day in this picture.
Even if they didn’t have the big, swoony, epic love story, they loved each other. And they love me.
Then I see that Miles submitted a prom picture.
I see why he submitted it, even if he and his prom date are no longer together either.
In fact, I know they broke up that night.
But the picture is such a perfect cheesy prom pic.
His prom date, Giselle, I assume, is wearing a long red ball gown.
(I snarl a bit at her picture for what she did to Miles.) And there’s a big heart-shaped balloon arch behind them.
Miles is even wearing red. I lean in to look closer at him.
I know him well, so I can tell that he’s not happy in this picture. He’s stiff and uncomfortable.
But he’s gorgeous, too. I was already teary from that picture of Mom and Dad, and now I’m even more teary. What my mom said was right—we did have something special. It’s too bad Miles and I don’t have a picture of us on this collage. Hell, I should have submitted our prom picture.
As my eyes take in everyone’s pictures, I see it. A small picture of Miles and me at Riverdale Park, months ago, from my Instagram, with the Toronto skyline and sunset behind us, our heads touching. This was before we were together, of course. But we still look so happy—like we belong together.
Did Miles submit this too?
I had such a great time that day, once Charlene and her mice left. I know a lot has happened between us since we watched the sunset on that hill, but I really think that day felt like our beginning. And maybe he felt the same way if he submitted the picture.
I shake my head and walk away from the sign. I don’t want to mess up my eye makeup before the festival even starts. I keep checking out the rest of the vendor tables. Cara is talking to someone at the Cosmic table. When I get close enough, I realize it’s Sarina.
“Hi, roomie!” she says, grinning widely.
Last night she excitedly texted me, delighted with Dad’s idea of her moving into my Love Street apartment in September, so yeah.
She’s going to be my roommate in a few weeks.
After hugging me, Sarina puts an arm around Cara and grins.
Cara looks at Sarina with an incandescent smile—bigger than I’ve ever seen on her.
Seeing them together for the first time is weird, but honestly, I kind of love it.
Cara and Sarina look like the ultimate grumpy/sunshine pairing, with Cara back in her black ripped jeans and a red volunteer shirt with the sleeves rolled up and Sarina in a pink volunteer shirt with white jeans and sneakers.
They are so clearly smitten with each other.
They explain that Jenn asked Sarina to help out in the Cosmic booth for the day, since I won’t be able to.
I grin at them. “Are you aware there’s a picture of you two on the banner at the entrance?”
Sarina smiles, nodding. “Cute, right?”
I nod. “It’s exceedingly cute. Does that mean you’re not keeping all this a secret?”
“Whatever happens, happens,” Sarina says. “I love that picture you sent in of you and Miles.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t send it.”
“Miles probably did,” Cara says. “You really did a number on him. He was such a grump, and you turned him into a hopeless romantic.”
“No, I didn’t. He’s the furthest thing from a hopeless romantic.”
Cara snorts. “Are you kidding? I mean, most of this”—she waves her hand at the vendor booths—“was his influence… He’s so invested in the festival.”
“He’s dedicated to the festival, but I’m pretty sure he still thinks the theme is cheesy.”
A hopeless romantic wouldn’t go behind his girlfriend’s back and interview with a condo developer… He wouldn’t be so focused on changing everything she values. True, I see Miles’s point of view a lot more now, but there’s no question that he’s single-mindedly focused on progress. Not romance.
Sarina laughs. “He’s a complete romantic. Did you even see the bookstore?”
I shake my head. From afar I can see someone at the table outside the bookstore. It’s not Miles—I could pick him out a mile away.
“Go see it, Sana,” Cara says.
I shrug and head over. As I get closer, I recognize that it’s Reggie’s niece Tamara at the booth. And I’m shocked at the books I see on the table.
I expected that, somewhat reluctantly, Reggie and Miles would put out the rest of the meager used romance section that I helped curate, but also add a few history and literary fiction books. Hopefully books that at least have a romantic subplot.
But that’s not what’s on the table. First, these books are new .
Second Story Books mostly sells used books, but Reggie does order a small selection of new award winners and popular book club titles.
I’ve never seen a new romance book there, though.
But the books on the table all are brand-new and firmly in the romance genre.
After saying hi to Tamara, I skim the bright covers.
I’ve read a lot of these—there’s a definite focus on diversity, and on Canadian authors, too.
I pick up a green book that has an apartment building on the cover with a man and a woman each peeking out a different window.
I’ve read the book—it’s set in Toronto and has South Asian leads.
“I love that book,” Tamara says.
“I’ve read it,” I say. “It’s great.” I put it down and pick up a blue book next to it. The title is a donut pun. “Reggie did a fantastic job with this selection. Did you help him?” I then notice the framed sign above the display.
It’s the Second Story Books logo, but it has the word “kissing” in red handwriting font before the word “books” and a red kiss mark next to it. “Holy crap… Second Story Kissing Books? This is brilliant.”
Reggie comes out of the store then with a small stack of mass-market paperback romances. He smiles at me. “What do you think of our romance pop-up, Sana?”
“It’s perfect.” I see stickers and bookmarks that say FIND YOUR HAPPILY EVER AFTER ON LOVE STREET. “I need one of these.”
Reggie hands me a bookmark, beaming. “And to think a few months ago I didn’t even carry kissing books. Now look at us!” He shows me some more romance-themed bookmarks and stickers he ordered from small independent makers.
“You’ve totally outdone yourself,” I say. “How did you even decide what books to get? Don’t tell me you were lurking in the romance corner of TikTok?”
Reggie lets out a deep booming laugh. “Ah no, this is not my doing. Miles has been working on it for some time. I believe he read most of the books before ordering them. I’m going to use this sign for the romance section after today.
We’ll have to increase the kissing books section!
I mean, this is Love Street, isn’t it?” He winks at me.
I can’t believe Miles did this. And he read the books too?
I know he read Pride and Prejudice , but he didn’t mention reading any other romances.
We could have been talking about romance books all summer.
I look again at the books on the table, and I realize that Miles’s touch is all over this selection.
In addition to the book with the apartment building on it, I know several of these are set in Toronto.
And there’s so much diversity. I smile as I pick up a slim book with a light blue cover.
I know the book—it’s literally a romance between urban planners.
It’s not a big romantic gesture like a dancing flash mob or filling my apartment with red roses. Miles’s style is subtler. Quieter. More thoughtful. Just like Miles himself. I pick up another book, one I haven’t read, and look at the badass Asian woman wearing a tiger jacket on the cover.
“Why didn’t he tell me he was doing this?” I ask.
Reggie shrugs. “Perhaps he wanted to surprise you?”
It would have been an amazing surprise… if we were still together.
If I walked down Love Street with Miles and unexpectedly saw this curated selection of kissing books out front and found out it was because of him , I would have kissed him senseless.
It’s actually the perfect gift for me. I would have been delighted with his new secret softy side.
But… I think this softy side isn’t new. It was always there.
I didn’t see it because I was too busy noticing all our differences.
He was always a romantic. Asking me to my prom when I was feeling sorry for myself was romantic .
Making me that Lego corsage was incredibly romantic.
He always cared about people, and that’s what romance is about, caring about other people.
He’s just a different kind of romantic than I am.
True, he called romance novels formulaic a couple of months ago, but he was judging them before ever reading one.
When I called him out on that, he started reading romances and found ones that worked for him.
That’s the biggest difference between us.
When he realized he was wrong about something, he adapted his views.
He was able to progress—something I wasn’t able to do.
When I was shown all the reasons a neighborhood like Love Street has to change to better serve the people who live and work here, I resisted the change.
Even now, when I know all the reasons change is right for Love Street and know this developer isn’t out to destroy the Love Street I love, I’m still resistant.
I’m still unwilling to be in a relationship with someone who works for them.
I’m still rigid in not really accepting it. Because it messes up my worldview.
But I was wrong in many ways. I thought my parents didn’t really love each other because they didn’t have a cutesy, swoony romance. But they did love each other. They didn’t break up because their love was lacking… They broke up because they wanted different things out of life.
I believed there was only one way to love someone—with big gestures. Hearts, rainbows, meet-cutes, and grand gestures. Not quiet moments drinking tea or long streetcar rides through the city together. I didn’t believe that a quiet, thoughtful way of loving someone was as real.
I exhale. I do love Miles. And it’s infinitely more real than I ever imagined it could be.
And he is romantic. I mean, hell, the fact that he submitted that picture from his prom proves it. It’s the cheesiest, romancey-est thing I’ve ever seen. He even wore a suit that matched his date—a freaking red jacket and bow tie, at that. Clearly there’s a bit of my brand of romance in him too.
I suddenly freeze. A red jacket… maybe a red velvet jacket?
I remember what he told me about his prom night.
He said it was a disaster. He also said they got takeout before heading to the banquet hall.
Could it have been Chinese takeout? With fortune cookies?
I touch the locket around my neck. He said he donated his prom outfit.
Would Miles pick a charity that provides prom clothes to kids that otherwise wouldn’t have them?
I excuse myself from Reggie and Tamara and rush over to the sign at the entrance to look at the picture again.
The jacket is close. It’s the same shade of red as the one from Cosmic. I see someone wearing a red volunteer shirt nearby. It’s Jenn. Does that mean that Miles is back too?
“Hey, Jenn?” I call her over. “This picture… Do you think that’s the same jacket you had in the store? The one that was donated to the prom drive?”
Jenn will know exactly what I’m talking about. I swear, she has a mental catalog of every piece of clothing that’s been in her store. “The red velvet. I remember.” She leans in, studying Miles’s picture. “Could be. I got that jacket back, you know.”
“What?”
“No one at the youth center wanted it. It wasn’t really a red velvet sports coat kind of crowd. I put it out for the festival today. It goes with the theme, doesn’t it?” She leans even closer to the picture. “So it was Miles’s jacket the whole time? That’s some coincidence.”
I exhale. Or maybe it’s fate. And that’s when I realize it—the fortune did come true. But the fortune wasn’t predicting I would find love. It was Miles’s cookie. The fortune predicted he would fall in love, and maybe he did.
I take a deep breath.
“You should tell him,” Jenn says.
I turn to her. “How do you know what I’m thinking?”
She smiles and pats my cheek. “I’ve known you your whole life, sunshine. Go get him. He fell as hard as you did.”
I nod. She’s right. It’s time for me to go get Miles back.