Chapter 24 #2
My stomach does a little flip, because this isn’t a list you make for someone you’re casually hooking up with.
It’s…something else. Proof that Josh doesn’t just see me—he’s been noticing me.
Cataloguing me. And for someone who has spent years shrinking herself to fit into someone else’s life.
..this feels an awful lot like being chosen exactly as I am.
I stare at the notebook, unsure whether to smile or panic, because this doesn’t feel casual. This feels like something I’m not supposed to have.
And maybe that’s exactly why I want it.
After the show, I head straight to my bathroom to take a shower, stopping in my tracks when I see a Post-it from Josh stuck to the mirror. He’d told me he needed to stay behind at the arena to fix an issue with his monitors, but I’m starting to suspect he’s a big fat liar.
Hey, sweetheart.
Change into something comfortable and head downstairs. There is a black BMW sedan waiting for you.
I ’ll see you soon.
“Josh?” I call out, but silence is the only response. I check both rooms to be sure and come up empty. I stare at the note on my bathroom mirror again, grinning like the Cheshire Cat the whole time. “What are you up to?” I ask out loud, shaking my head.
He told me he needed to stay behind at the arena to fix an issue with his monitors, but I’m starting to suspect he’s a big fat liar.
A few minutes later, I’m dressed in leggings and a tank top with my purse slung across my body and my feet happily sitting in my most comfortable sneakers.
A black BMW sedan is indeed waiting for me outside, and I climb into the back as the driver greets me by name.
On the seat beside me is a small basket of Sour Patch Kids, Cherry Coke, and a gift bag with another Post-it note attached.
I lift the bag into my lap and read the note.
If you want to fit in, you’ll need to wear these.
I peek into the bag and my heart lodges in my throat when I reach inside and pull out a headband with a pair of purple sequin mouse ears and a black satin bow in the middle. It’s been weeks since I told Josh I’ve never been to Disney, and yet, he remembered.
I clutch the ears to my chest and let out a squeal of excitement.
The car drives straight to the Magic Kingdom and to a special entrance past a security checkpoint. My chest tightens with excitement and anticipation, and goosebumps cover my skin as we roll to a stop by the gate.
Kevin and Max are standing near the entrance with their families, and Josh is leaning casually against a light pole looking way too sexy in tight black jeans, a heather gray t-shirt, and a pair of black mouse ears to match mine—sans the bow.
The air smells like popcorn and warm sugar, and every surface glows under the warm, white string lights and lanterns lining the streets. Main Street stretches ahead of us like the yellow brick road, and my eyes prick with tears.
“You alright?” Max asks, a slight chuckle to his voice.
“It’s my first time.”
Max blinks. “First time at Disney? Ever?”
“Ever. I didn’t even realize they were open so late.”
“They’re not,” Kevin says, bouncing his baby daughter in the carrier strapped to his chest. “We have the whole place to ourselves—Disney and Universal. We don’t mess around.”
“You do this a lot?” I ask.
“Every year.” Max says.
My heart stutters. This isn’t just a fun night out.
It’s something sacred to them. A tradition.
And they invited me. Made space for me. I don’t know what I did to deserve it, but I tuck the warmth of it deep inside my chest and lock it up tight.
Determined to carry it with me for the rest of my life.
Cinderella’s Castle is even bigger than I imagined. It’s lit up like something out of a storybook, spires stretching into the night sky, and I don’t speak for a full thirty seconds, just stare with my mouth open until Josh gently bumps my shoulder with his.
“Breathe, sweetheart,” he says with a grin.
“I’m trying to.”
He laughs but doesn’t say anything else.
The first ride we do is Haunted Mansion. Josh nudges me into the Doom Buggy first, then hops in beside me with a casual, “You’re going to love this.”
I do.
It’s spooky and silly and clever, and when I laugh out loud at the ghost hitchhikers at the end, Josh grins like he’s proud of himself. Like he knew exactly how I’d react.
Next is Big Thunder Mountain. I scream and Josh whoops beside me, hands raised, and when it’s over, my cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing so much.
We eat Mickey pretzels that are salty and soft and bigger than my head, and I drink frozen lemonade that makes my teeth ache.
We skip through Fantasyland with the kids and end up riding Peter Pan’s Flight, It’s a Small World, and the carousel.
I let myself lean into the wonder of it all.
Let myself stare in awe and laugh and be enchanted, not giving a single fuck about anyone else’s opinion.
Not that anyone here would ask me to tone it down or reign it in.
They all seem as awestruck and happy as I am.
There’s something magical about being here when the park is empty. No lines, or crowds, just music and color and light, and I feel like I’m walking through a dream.
Josh keeps a respectful distance—not too far, but not too close.
He walks beside me like a friend, but more often than not, when I steal a glance at him, he’s already looking at me.
Just...watching me experience it all. Like getting me here and seeing me this happy was the plan, and it makes my chest ache in a way I don’t want to focus on.
After Disney, we take private transport to Universal Studios, and the moment we step through the gates and into Diagon Alley, I stop breathing.
It’s like the books have come to life in front of me—cobblestone streets, crooked signs, the hum of flickering lamps. A dragon roars from the top of Gringotts Bank, and it breathes fire. Actual fire.
Josh leads me into Olivander’s, and I lose a full twenty minutes staring at the walls and walls and walls of wands.
We ride the Escape from Gringotts coaster, and it’s fast, dark, and thrilling. When we step off, my hair is wind-blown and I’m laughing so hard I can’t breathe.
Max talks me into trying butterbeer, and it’s warm and foamy and tastes like caramel and cinnamon had a baby, and I clutch it in both hands like it’s precious.
“You look like a kid on Christmas,” Josh says, grinning at me and shaking his head.
“That’s exactly how I feel,” I say.
We finish off with the Forbidden Journey ride inside Hogwarts Castle, and it’s a blur of flying and magic and animatronics and screams. I scream the loudest, and Josh just laughs.
We haven’t done much talking, but we don’t need to. It’s enough just to be here. To feel joy like I haven’t allowed myself to in so long.
At two-thirty, we take the transport back to the main park and gather in front of Cinderella’s castle.
The kids—somehow still awake and full of energy—are wrapped in blankets, holding glow sticks and bags of popcorn.
Kevin is sitting cross-legged behind his middle daughter, braiding her hair while his wife, Susan, holds their baby girl in her lap and their oldest sits cross-legged across from them, making silly faces to make his baby sister laugh.
Max stifles a yawn with the back of his hand as his son and daughter settle in between him and his wife, Ana.
Josh sits beside me on the curb and his fingers brush lightly down the back of my arm as the lights dim.
The first firework explodes in the sky, a bloom of color and sound as the music swells. It’s something orchestral and sweeping, and I feel it in my chest.
I don’t cry, but I come close, because this moment is perfect. Not because of where I am, but because someone remembered me. Considered me. Made space for me in their world.
Josh doesn’t say anything, just watches the fireworks, his mouth curved in a soft smile as his fingers trace circles against the back of my hand and I sit beside him in the dark, watching the sky light up and the colors dance across his beautiful face.