Chapter 34
34
With the sun out and the temperature above freezing, there are enough people at the market that Elsie can make sure Ginny doesn’t see her until she’s ready for them to. Her stomach is in knots. She knows what she wants, and she knows what she has to do, but that doesn’t mean it’s not scary as hell.
It’s not that Elsie has changed her mind. It’s not that she wants to kiss Ginny so much it’s worth risking the friendship. It’s that romance didn’t ruin anything.
Nothing was ruined. They both needed time apart and they took it. But they came back to each other. They’ll always come back to each other.
Just like in high school. Elsie worked hard to stay friends with Ginny after turning them down. And she’ll do that again, if she needs to. Their friendship can only be ruined if they let it be, and Elsie refuses to allow that. She won’t let Ginny slip through her fingers.
But the only way to get what she wants most is to ask for it. So she’s going to ask.
Elsie goes to the florist’s stall—she’s not sure if it’s more about procrastinating or about having something beautiful to offer Ginny. The stall is all flowers too bright for February in Minneapolis, but the scowl on the face of the brunette who’s running it is perfectly right for the season.
After spending an inordinate amount of time choosing between two bouquets of roses, Elsie finally picks one, holding it out to the florist with water dripping from the stems.
“Fifteen bucks,” the florist says. Then, with enthusiasm that seems forced: “It’s a great choice. For someone special?”
Elsie hands over her credit card. She can’t handle small talk right now. “I’m about to go tell my best friend I’m in love with them.”
The florist blinks. “Oh. Nice.” She runs the credit card. “Let me wrap these. I’ll be quick.”
Elsie’s stomach flip-flops. She’s really doing this.
She hovers near the entrance of the market with the flowers. Sue is talking to a customer at her and Ginny’s stall, and Elsie doesn’t want to interrupt. She wants to talk to Ginny alone. When Sue is done with the customer—who doesn’t buy anything—she says something to Ginny, then heads toward the bathroom.
It’s now or never.
When Ginny’s eyes land on Elsie as she approaches, their brow furrows. Maybe the dozen red roses are too much.
No.
Elsie refuses to second-guess herself. She knows what she wants.
“Els,” Ginny says. It feels so good to hear the nickname. “What are you doing here?”
“I want to thank you,” Elsie says. “Everything I’ve done while we weren’t talking—like all the stuff at the store—it’s because of you.”
Ginny’s smile is so fucking sweet. “Nah, that’s all you. I’m proud of you.”
They’re not getting it. The adrenaline in Elsie’s veins has her heart thundering like she’s in fight or flight.
“No, like—it’s what I want,” she says. “It’s what’s best for the store. But it’s because of you. You finally made me realize that what I want matters, that good things are worth fighting for. And that’s not—I don’t mean to give you all the credit, because I do know this is me. These are my ideas. I’m the one fighting for them. But what I’m saying is I wouldn’t be who I am if it weren’t for you. You make me better.”
That smile goes even bigger. Elsie’s not done.
“And in realizing that what I want matters—that what I want is worth fighting for…” She takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to be your friend.”
Ginny flinches like they’ve been slapped.
“No, not like that,” Elsie rushes to say. “Of course I want to be your friend. You’re my best friend. But I don’t want to go back to being friends and pretending like I’m not in love with you.”
I’m in love with you. She said it. She said it in public. She said it, and Ginny is just looking at her, shocked into silence.
Elsie thrusts the flowers out at them. “These are for you. If you want them.”
Ginny’s eyes are as gray as the Minnesota winter sky. Their mouth turns up at the corners, and hope springs in Elsie’s chest.
“Say it again.”
“These are for you?”
Ginny raises their eyebrows. Elsie knows that’s not what they wanted her to say.
She’s not sure she’s ever been this brave in her entire life, but the words come easy. “I’m in love with you. And maybe it would’ve been smarter not to say anything. Maybe I’ve just made everything that was already kind of weird and awkward even more weird and awkward. We’re rebuilding our friendship, and I’m thrilled about that. But if I could have anything I want?” She shrugs, because it’s so obvious. “I want to kiss you every day for the rest of my life.”
Ginny’s smile goes full-blown grin. That means—they want—Elsie needs them to say something. She can’t be sure until they say something. Ginny takes the flowers and sets them on the coffee table in their stall.
“Why don’t you start now?” they say.
Elsie swallows. “With the kissing?”
Ginny laughs, and it’s the best sound in the world. “Yeah. With the kissing.”
Elsie takes a step forward. Ginny stands there, waiting for her. Elsie’s hands find their way to Ginny’s face, pink cheeks and gray eyes and that perfect mouth just begging for a kiss, so Elsie gives it one.
It feels like that first kiss in Santa Lupita, like relief and thank fuck. It feels better. Feels less like something Elsie has been waiting for and more like the start of something new. Feels like forever, and it’s not scary at all.
Ginny breaks the kiss to squeeze Elsie in a hug. Elsie wants to bury her face in Ginny’s neck, but the height difference makes that impossible when they’re not in bed. She wants to be in bed with Ginny. She wants to be anywhere with Ginny.
“You bought me flowers,” Ginny whispers.
“Do you like them?”
“I love them.” They stretch up to press a kiss against her cheek. “I love you. ”
Elsie’s whole body feels like butterflies.
“Wait a minute,” Ginny says, pulling back but not letting go. “Why aren’t you at work?”
Elsie shrugs. “I figured out what I wanted, and I didn’t wanna wait.”
Ginny’s smile is all soft. “I love you.”
“I love you.”
It feels like the first time they’ve ever said it.
They stare into each other’s eyes. In the back of her mind, Elsie knows they’re in public. She knows they’re being kind of gross and obsessed with each other. She doesn’t care one bit.
“I love you,” Ginny says, tapping one finger against Elsie’s nose, “but you should go back to work.”
Elsie sticks her bottom lip out. “Why?”
Ginny kisses her. It’s a good fifteen seconds before they break apart.
“Because if you’re here I’m gonna keep doing that and no one wants to buy furniture from someone who can’t stop kissing their girlfriend.”
“I’m your girlfriend. ” She kisses them again, shorter this time. “What if we just closed up shop for the day and you took me home?”
Now that she’s allowed to kiss Ginny again, she never wants to stop.
“What if I just took you to my truck in the parking lot?” Ginny murmurs, clearly on the same page.
The rumble of their voice goes straight to Elsie’s center. She would very much like some make-up sex, thank you.
“Love that you two have finally made up,” Sue says, returning from wherever she was to ruin the moment. “But your PDA is scaring off the customers.”
“You told her we were fighting?” Elsie asks Ginny. She likes the idea of them talking about her.
“I actually didn’t,” Ginny says. They haven’t let go of Elsie.
Sue rolls her eyes. “Please. You never shut up about this girl normally, but I haven’t heard a peep since the honeymoon. That, plus the hangdog, brokenhearted look on your face sometimes? Wasn’t hard to figure out.”
“I’m not brokenhearted,” Ginny says, a little gruff, their cheeks even pinker.
“Not anymore,” Sue says.
“Never again,” Elsie says.
“Sue,” Ginny says, still looking at Elsie. “Would you mind if I took off? I want to—”
“I’m pretty sure I know exactly what you want to do.”
Elsie giggles.
Ginny finally looks at Sue instead. “Is that a yes?”
“Get out of here,” Sue says. “Don’t worry about loading up. I’ll deal with it.”
“You sure?”
“Go.”
They abandon Elsie’s parents’ car at the market—Elsie doesn’t care. She doesn’t care about anything but Ginny’s hand in hers on the center console.
“Rufus still pees when he’s excited. Consider yourself warned.”
“I thought we established I wasn’t into water sports.”
Ginny’s laugh is loud. “God, I love you.”
“I love you.”
The sky is perfectly clear, perfectly blue. Like it’s springtime. Like there should be buds on the trees instead of snow on the ground. Elsie certainly feels like she’s blooming. The sun feels stronger, shafts of light through the truck’s windshield making the whole world brighter than it was a few minutes ago. Ginny’s hand keeps Elsie’s warm.
When they get to Ginny’s, Elsie puts the roses in a vase while Ginny takes Rufus out in the backyard. They haven’t kissed since they left the farmers’ market, like they both know that once they start, they won’t be able to stop.
“Perfect timing,” Elsie says when Ginny returns to the kitchen.
Rufus has done his business and is back in his crate, and the flowers are in water.
Ginny doesn’t even look at the roses. They only have eyes for Elsie, crowding into her space until the counter digs into her back. Ginny bumps their nose gently against Elsie’s. They still don’t kiss her.
“What do you want?” they ask.
“You,” Elsie says.
Elsie always gets what she wants.