Chapter 39
I hop in my car with a small overnight bag and Adonis as my copilot. It may be the last miles my poor car can carry me, but I’ll deal with that later. I’ve already fought LA traffic and climbed and descended the Grapevine on my way to the Bay Area when Beau’s first text comes in.
I’m ravished by curiosity but keep driving, even as my cell dings every twenty minutes or so, ratcheting up my heart rate each time.
I pull over for gas at a rest stop and scramble to read as I take Adonis on a quick walk.
He tugs on the leash to drag me to a trash can. I put my keys in my pocket to be safe.
And the next came in twenty minutes later.
I giggle, but it’s muffled, because I’m also brushing away tears.
My hands are shaking as I restart the car and get back on the road. The pattern continues. Every twenty minutes, Beau sends me another few truths.
I peek when I’m stuck in traffic on a bland stretch of the highway.
6. You really do have a nonsensical taste in music.
7. But a wonderful taste in pajamas.
8. And bathing suits.
A while later, traffic slows to a crawl, and I cheat.
9. I’ve traveled all over the world, but driving through the desert in the height of summer was the best trip of my life.
10. Even with the detours, dead ends, fires, and feuds.
11. Because you were with me.
I check when Adonis howls from the back seat and forces me to take another break.
12. I miss you.
13. It feels as though I’ve been missing you for years.
14. There’s a piece of me that’s been dormant while you’ve been absent from my life.
And when traffic slows to a crawl, I hazard a glance.
15. When you demanded I kiss you in the tree house, I was so overwhelmed that my heart stopped.
16. It didn’t restart until you kissed me again all these years later.
I read more while I’m picking up coffee.
17. I outgrew my extreme ticklishness as a preteen.
18. But I kept pretending so you’d touch me.
19. I have no excuse for my hormonal former self.
I want to take them all in as he means to send them: a love letter, I think, or an apology at least.
20. I fell in love with you a little more as you nursed me back to health after my run-in with a mechanical bull.
21. And I was a goner the first time you cooked for me.
I release a soft laugh as tears collect at the corners of my eyes. I wait in the car before pulling out of the lot, addicted to his truths and waiting for a fix.
22. For our thirteenth birthday, I campaigned for a beach party.
23. Because I knew you’d wear a bikini.
I throw my phone in the back seat because I’m too tempted to check while driving, and getting into an accident would be just my road-trip luck.
I make one last stop when I’m close. It is his birthday, after all, and I can’t come empty-handed.
I look at the next batch of truths as I wait at the bakery.
24. I never told you how I felt all those years ago because I couldn’t imagine you’d love me back.
25. But I’m not stupid enough to make the same mistake now.
I pull onto his street as my phone dings again, several times in rapid succession.
26. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you the full truth about the original inspiration for the trip.
27. But there was never a risk I’d change my mind about the divorce.
28. There wasn’t any chance I’d change my heart about you.
29. Especially not since the day you cried in your entryway and invited me back into your life.
30. Not since you slid into my car and took control of my radio and my goddamn heart.
31. Not since I saw you for the first time in years and realized there’s never been anyone but you who I could forgive anything.
I park several houses down and wait. Maybe I should put him out of his misery, but I’m greedy now, rereading his confessions, brushing away my tears.
I look like I’ve been traveling all day, but he’s accustomed to me like this: a little messy—literally and emotionally.
When the last texts come through, exactly as the clock turns to my birth moment of 7:57, I steel myself and inhale.
32. I love you.
33. I have always loved you.
34. And I will always love you.
35. If you give me a chance, I will finally love you right.
I collapse back on the seat and sob, and Adonis climbs in my lap, licking my face until I laugh out loud. “Okay,” I say, “time for me to be brave.”