Erin
“What is it?”
“Open it and find out.”
I stare at the giant box Gavin just took out of his car and sat between us in the parking lot, questioning its safety with an arched brow.
Other people from therapy are still filing out to their own cars around us, and Gavin tips an imaginary hat at them when they stare at the box with just as much confusion as I am.
“I don’t like surprises.”
“It’s not a surprise,” he says on a laugh. “It’s a gift. Open it.”
I should be used to this kind of behavior from Gavin. I mean, if him suggesting that we take a spontaneous trip where we let strangers pick our destination hadn’t proved that already, I’m not sure what would. Still, my stomach is a mess of butterflies as I stare at the gift.
I roll my lips together, slowly inching closer to the box. It’s obnoxiously big, so much so that it barely fit in the back seat of Gavin’s car, and it’s fire-engine red with a bright pink bow on top.
I slip my fingers under the bow first, untying it and letting it fall open to expose the top lid of the box. And when I remove it, I scream.
A cannon of confetti and glitter bursts when I remove the top, making a loud pop sound as a flurry of red, pink, purple, and white rains down around me.
Gavin is laughing uncontrollably as I try desperately not to have a heart attack, and I throw the box lid directly at him, disappointed when he catches it easily.
“Jerk!”
“I’m sorry,” he says, still fighting off laughter. “I didn’t know it would be so explosive.”
That sends him into another riot of laughter, and though I’m starting to laugh, too, I beat my tiny fists on his chest until he drops the box lid and wraps his arm around me.
“Did you look inside?”
“I didn’t have to. The insides jumped out at me!”
He chuckles, nodding toward the box as he shifts me in his arms so I can see.
Inside, there’s a fluffy teddy bear with soft beige fur and a red heart clasped between its paws. There are also at least three boxes of chocolate, a bottle of champagne, and a giant cartoon-drawn card that says will you be my Valentine?
“Valentine’s Day?” I ask, giving Gavin a pointed look when I turn in his arms once more. I thread my hands behind his neck. “You’re joking, right? You don’t strike me as a man who buys into a consumer-driven, romantic holiday.”
“Oh, I absolutely loathe the holiday,” he agrees with a grin. “But I happen to really like you.”
I smile. “Is that so?”
“It is. So you see, I’m in a conundrum, because where I would usually spend the holiday playing video games or making fun of couples posting on social media, this year…
” He pulls me in closer, his endless blue-green eyes sparkling in the low light from the parking lot streetlamps.
“I’d rather be disgustingly cute and couple-y with you. ”
“What if I also hate Valentine’s Day?”
“We can have an anti-Valentine’s Day.”
“And that would entail…”
“Watching John Tucker Must Die and pigging out on our favorite snacks in our sweatpants. No candles, no roses, no romance. Just trashy movies, trashy food, and trashy conversation.”
I laugh, playing with his hair where it meets the nape of his neck. “You’ve got this all planned out.”
“So, are you in?”
His eyes fall to my lips, and when he bites his, desire rolls through me in a drastic heat wave.
Our trip only lasted ten days, but it was magical in every way. Sure, there was the anxiety of not knowing what to pack, of flying to a country I barely knew anything about, let alone had ever visited before, but overall, it was the most exhilarating trip of my life.
We flew into Ecuador without a single thing planned, using our time in the airports to book a last-minute hotel and car.
We decided to drive out to a little beach town called Montanita, and the next ten days were filled with perfectly warm days and cool, pleasant nights.
We lounged on the beach, danced in the sand to hypnotic local music, ate some of the best food of my life with spices and flavors I’d never experienced, and talked about everything — our past, our present, what we wanted in our future.
And through it all, Gavin never pushed me past where I was comfortable.
I’d be lying if I said we didn’t spend plenty of nights wrapped up in each other, touching and exploring. But we never went all the way. I wasn’t quite ready.
But now, I think I am.
And what better time to give myself to Gavin fully than Valentine’s Day, even an anti-one?
“I’m in,” I answer, and then I press up on my toes to kiss him and seal the deal.
***
Later that night, back at the condo Jess, Ashlei, and I moved into together after I got back from my trip, I take a long, hot shower and join the girls on the couch for popcorn and reality TV.
I don’t even make it through one episode before I’m yawning and debating how early is too early to go to bed.
I’ve got class bright and early in the morning, and if I’ve learned anything after just the first two weeks of law school, it’s that there isn’t enough sleep in the world to get me through it.
I somehow manage to make it to nine before I peel myself off the couch and tell the girls goodnight. I brush my teeth and wash my face and sigh with relief when I climb into bed.
Until my phone starts vibrating so hard it nearly falls off the bedside table.
I roll over and snatch it before it does, and then I freeze.
It’s Bear.
I swallow, debating if I should answer. I ran into him downtown over the weekend, and seeing him for the first time in nearly a month knocked the breath clean out of me.
He finally apologized for Friendsgiving — mostly because I couldn’t ignore him when he practically ambushed me in the middle of the street — and while I wanted to still be angry with him, one look at the remorse on his face, at the pain I knew he was in, and the last thing I could be was mad.
Shaking my head, I press the green phone button on my screen and put the phone on speaker, lying back and resting it on my chest.
“Hello?”
There’s a shuffling of noise, and then a breathless Bear. “You answered.”
And I can’t help it.
I smile.
“Indeed, I did.” I pause, swallowing down the nerves threading like a yarn ball in my throat. “Everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah.” A breath. “Well, no, not exactly.”
I frown. “What’s going on?”
“I just… I’ve been thinking a lot since I saw you downtown.”
I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. “Okay…”
“God, now that I have you on the phone, I don’t know how to say this.”
“Jesus, Bear, you’re going to give me a heart attack if you don’t just spit it out.”
I think I hear a soft laugh, but then the line goes silent.
“Okay, well… here’s the truth of it.” Another pause. A swallow. “I don’t want to lose you, Erin.”
I can’t explain what those words do to me, how they hit me hard in the chest and steal my next breath, make me pop up straight in bed, make me grip my phone like a lifeline.
“I know we have both… we’ve put each other through…” He inhales a long breath, lets it go, and I know that he’s wishing for the right words to come to him.
I also know from the past that it’s impossible, because I’ve tried to find the right words to say to him more times than I can count.
“Can we please start over? I know that’s asking a lot, to try to erase and forget everything… but… I don’t want to just go on with my life and pretend like I don’t want you in it.”
I sigh, sinking back into my pillows as I scrub a hand back through my still-damp hair. “I don’t want to forget,” I finally croak out.
Bear is silent for a long moment before he says simply, “Oh…”
Silence.
“Well, I’m sorry I called so late,” he finally says. “I’ll let you get some—”
“I don’t want to forget because everything we’ve been through has made us who we are,” I finish. “I know it hasn’t all been easy. I’ve hurt you, you’ve hurt me, but…” I swallow, and then say it again. “I don’t want to forget. I don’t think I could forget,” I add. “Could you?”
“No,” he answers, honestly and quickly. “No, I don’t think I ever could.”
“Then I don’t think starting over is an option,” I say, playing with the lace hem of my sheets. “But… I don’t think that means we can’t be friends.”
A relieved exhale comes from the other end of the line. “That’s all I want, Erin. Just give me the chance to right my wrongs, and we can move forward together.”
I smile. “I like the sound of that.”
“So, friends?”
“Friends.”
“Perfect,” he says. And even though I can’t see him, I can picture his bright, wide smile when he adds, “I’ll have bracelets made.”
I bark out a laugh. “I think you’d need more of a necklace to fit around your beastly wrist.”
“And more of a ring to fit around your tiny one.”
We both chuckle at that, and then the line falls quiet, and I’m suddenly aware of how hard my heart is thumping in my chest.
“Goodnight, Bear.”
“Goodnight, Erin.”