In The Between

✧･Chapter 34 Top Three?

I expect a lot of things when Mae says she's taking me on a date. A restaurant, maybe, something nice, something planned.

Maybe somewhere with reservations and expensive menus.

What I do not expect is for her to pull into a parking lot with a giant neon sign glowing in the distance.

I stare out the window, then I look at her. Then back at the sign.

There is a long pause. "Mae."

She glances over at me, already smiling. "Yes?"

I point toward the building. "Are we... are we at mini golf?"

Her smile grows. "Yes."

I just stare at her. "Mae."

"What?"

"We are grown adults."

"I'm aware."

"We are two fully functioning adults with careers and responsibilities."

"Also aware."

"And you brought me to mini golf?"

She laughs, turning the car off. "I'm starting to think you don't like mini golf."

"I didn't say that."

"You're judging it."

"I am confused by it."

Mae shakes her head, clearly amused as she unbuckles her seatbelt.

"I thought you were going to take me somewhere fancy," I admit.

She looks over at me, raising an eyebrow. "You thought I was going to take you to some fancy restaurant?"

I hesitate. "Yes?"

That makes her laugh. The kind of laugh that makes me smile before I can stop myself.

"Claire."

"What?"

"You really thought I was going to show up at your office, steal you away, and take you somewhere where you had to sit quietly and pretend you weren't uncomfortable?"

I open my mouth, then close it. Because she's not wrong. "I don't know what you're implying."

"I'm implying I know you."

I roll my eyes, but I can't stop the small smile forming. Mae reaches over and takes my hand again, her thumb brushing over my knuckles.

"Tonight isn't about doing something fancy."

The teasing in her voice softens, and I look over at her.

"Then what is it about?"

For a moment, she just looks at me, not in a way that makes me uncomfortable. Just in a way that makes me feel seen.

"Giving you things you should've had."

The words hit harder than I expect, and I don't respond right away.

Mae looks down briefly, like she's trying to find the right words. "I know that sounds dramatic," she says quietly. "But I mean it."

She squeezes my hand.

"You told me last night that you feel like you missed out on things. The stupid stuff. The fun stuff. The things people do when they're younger and they're not overthinking everything."

I look away, suddenly feeling a little exposed, because I did tell her that. I just didn't expect her to remember it this much.

"I don't want you to feel like you missed your chance to have those memories," she continues. "And I know I can't go back and give you those years."

Her voice gets softer. "I wish I could."

My chest tightens.

"But I can give you new ones."

I look back at her, and she smiles slightly.

"And honestly? I'm kind of happy I get to be the person who does."

That catches me off guard. "Happy?"

She nods. "Yeah."

She looks almost embarrassed admitting it. "Because I know it's not about fixing you. You're not something that needs fixing."

Her fingers tighten around mine.

"But I love that I get to show you that you can have these things. That you can be silly. That you can do something completely pointless on a random night and still have it matter."

I stare at her, because that's the thing about Mae. She says things like they're obvious.

Like loving me is obvious, like choosing me is obvious. Like making up for lost time isn't some impossible thing.

It's just something she wants to do.

"You planned a mini golf date because I never went on one?" I ask softly.

Mae smiles. "Maybe."

I narrow my eyes. "Mae."

"Okay, yes."

I laugh quietly, shaking my head. "You're ridiculous."

"I know."

"And you realize I'm probably terrible at this."

She shrugs. "Good."

I look at her. "Good?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because then I get to watch you try."

I laugh again, and this time I don't try to hide it, and Mae smiles like that was the entire point. I then step out of the car, still trying to process the fact that I am actually standing in a mini golf parking lot with Mae.

Not because I don't want to be here, that's the part that surprises me.

I do.

A few years ago, I probably would have laughed at the idea. I would have told myself I was too busy, too old, too responsible for something like this. I would have found a reason to avoid it, because that's what I do when something feels too simple or too vulnerable.

But right now, standing beside Mae with the glow of the neon sign reflecting against the pavement, I don't feel the need to run.

Mae locks the car and immediately reaches for my hand again.

I notice. I'll always notice.

Maybe because I spent so long wanting things from her that I convinced myself I would never get. Maybe because for years I thought I was the only person who felt anything. So every small thing she does now still catches me off guard.

She doesn't hesitate.

She just takes my hand like it belongs there.

We walk inside, and the second the doors open, I'm hit with the mix of arcade noises, laughter, popcorn, and the overly sweet smell coming from the snack counter. It's bright and loud and completely different from the kind of places I usually find myself.

It's nothing like the places I usually go.

And somehow, I don't hate it.

I take a few steps further in, my hand still in Mae's, and my gaze drifts over the room without really focusing on anything at first.

Families crowd around the games, kids tugging at their parents' sleeves, teenagers clustered together in loud, careless groups.

Off to the side, there are couples - some laughing, some arguing over scores, some standing just a little too close to each other in a way that makes it obvious what they are.

Like us.

The thought lands heavier than it should.

Because suddenly I'm aware of everything all at once. The way Mae is holding my hand without hesitation, the way she walked in here beside me like there was nothing to hide, the way she didn't even think twice about who might see us.

And my chest tightens, not because of them. But because of her.

Because I can see it now, if I let myself look closely - the effort.

The quiet determination in the way she stands next to me, the way her fingers stay laced with mine like she's decided she's never letting go.

There's something careful underneath it too, something almost fragile, like she's waiting for the moment I pull away. Like she's bracing for it.

Like she still thinks I might decide this is too much, too late... too complicated.

And the worst part is, I understand why she would think that, because I still remember everything.

I remember the way she pushed me away, how easily she said she didn't remember, like none of it had ever meant anything.

I remember the way she made me question myself, made me feel like I had imagined it, like I had built something in my head that never really existed.

I remember carrying it alone for years - loving her in silence, letting it settle into something that consumed me without ever having anywhere to go.

I remember that morning after the wedding, the look on her face when everything came back to her. The shame. The panic. The way she left like staying was never even an option.

I remember standing there and realizing she was never going to choose me.

My grip tightens around her hand before I can stop it.

"Are you okay?"

Mae's voice pulls me back, and I blink, realizing I've been staring at nothing. I look at her, and only then do I notice how hard I'm holding onto her.

I loosen my grip slightly, but I don't let go and my chest still feels too tight, like I've inhaled something I can't quite breathe out.

I don't know what to say.

I'm not even sure I could say it out loud, because part of me is afraid that if I do, if I give those thoughts actual words, she might agree with them. That she might confirm the fear I've never really been able to let go of.

But Mae is looking at me like she already knows, like she can see every thought I'm trying not to have.

"Claire..." she says softly, her voice quieter now, grounding in a way that makes it harder to pull away. She shifts so she's standing in front of me, turning fully toward me, her attention focused completely on my face.

I glance around briefly, suddenly too aware of where we are.

"We're in public," I murmur, my voice lower than I intend.

Mae follows my gaze for half a second before looking back at me. "I know."

I hesitate, my throat tightening again. "What if..." I stop, exhaling slowly, trying to steady myself. "What if you get embarrassed?"

She frowns slightly, like the question doesn't make sense to her at first. Then she tilts her head, studying me, and I can see the moment it clicks.

Her expression softens.

"The only thing I'll be embarrassed about," she says lightly, "is how badly you're about to play."

A quiet breath leaves me, something between a laugh and frustration. "That's not what I meant, Mae."

"I know."

This time, she doesn't hesitate. She lets go of my hand, but only so she can reach up and cup my face with both hands, stepping closer until there's barely any space left between us. Her touch is warm, steady, and nothing like the uncertainty that used to define us.

"I know what you mean," she says again, softer now.

My hands hover awkwardly at my sides for a second before settling lightly against her wrists, grounding myself in the contact.

"But-"

"I don't care," she interrupts gently.

I shake my head, the words still pushing their way out. "What if-"

"Claire."

I meet her eyes. "What?"

Her expression doesn't waver.

"I don't care what anyone else thinks," she says quietly. "I'm in love with you."

The words hit me harder than anything else has tonight, because there's no hesitation in them. No doubt or fear.

Just truth.