Chapter Twenty-Five #2
Tobin shook her head vigorously. Why was her grandmother listing her girlfriend’s qualities like they were reading from a livestock brochure?
“But more importantly—she helped you take my advice, child.” LoLo sipped her bourbon as she rocked slowly in the Adirondack, a content smile tugging at her lips.
“I always take your advice, LoLo. But… I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.” Tobin bit the inside of her lip. That was a mistake—no one told LoLo what she knew.
LoLo sat quietly, rolling her jaw inside her lips while she formulated the chastisement Tobin knew was coming. No one spoke to LoLo like that, least of all Tobin.
“I like her. But you love her,” LoLo stated. Simple. So matter-of- fact. So sober that Tobin choked on her own saliva. A miracle, really, given that her throat had run completely dry. This was wrong.
That damned but.
Tobin took a sip of her tea, desperate for liquid to coat her throat. But she choked—again—when the cold hit the back of her throat, sputtering droplets of her tea across the porch.
“Wha—what?” she managed to croak. She could feel herself shrinking, her shoulders could be confused for earrings if they were any closer to her earlobes.
“You chose to live—to loose your spirit.” LoLo sipped from her tumbler, then turned her head to look Tobin square in the eyes. Elodie’s light blue eyes, hooded with wrinkles and the wisdom of age, were soft with emotion—full of fondness and… was that pride?
“You fell in love, child.” She smiled, unmistakable pride etched into every line of her face. “And she loves you.”
Tobin stared at her grandmother, her eyes scanning LoLo’s usually impassive face. But there was no judgement—only warmth and the quiet understanding of a woman who knew more than she did. A woman speaking of authentic, inarguable truth.
She averted her eyes, staring into the steam from her tea. She chewed the inside of her cheek, grounding herself in something physical while these thoughts—these wild, erratic emotions— fluttered through her body and settled, heavy, in her gut.
She watched the vapor drift upward in lazy swirls and forced herself to breathe—long, slow inhales—even as her heart pounded frantically against her ribs.
She could hear the rush of blood in her ears, its candid chorus of truth pulsing so close to her brain it drowned her internal protestations.
Her grandmother’s words echoed louder, blending with the thrums of her heartbeat: lub dub, lub dub, in love, lub dub, in love, in love, in love.
Tobin’s brain flash-danced Polaroid images of the last several months.
She closed her eyes as still frames of her time with Grier scrolled in a private time-lapse behind her eyelids.
Grier’s hands deftly treating her forearm and easing her pain.
Grier’s determined, unflinching expression when Tobin told her she wanted to be a mom.
The mischievous gleam in Grier’s eyes just before she stripped and ran for the cliff at the waterfall.
Tears streaking her face when Tobin stood on the stair landing, exposing her brokenness.
Her body recalled—with startling clarity—the way Grier’s lips had felt the first time they kissed: vulnerable, determined, and so fucking hungry.
She could feel how Grier had settled into herself with each new touch, how they’d melded together as if they’d always been.
She remembered the way Grier held her the day everything changed—the day she found out she was barren and likely wouldn’t have children of her own.
And she remembered, too, how Grier had stripped in front of her—apparently a recurring theme—and bared herself, fighting for Tobin even after Tobin had spent the entire day pushing her away.
Her fingertips began to tingle—then soon spread throughout her body in a warm, exhilarating rush of pleasure as she remembered literally any time they touched, kissed, brushed past each other— made love.
Because, it turned out, that’s exactly what they had been doing. Making their own form of love. Not just in the physical sense. But in the finding your person sense. In the reveal your brokenness and heal together sense. In the build a life together sense.
Tobin was in love with Grier.
She looked back up at LoLo and found her familiar face watching—waiting. She wore a smile, gentle but teasing in that particular way only a parental figure can proffer upon their progeny. Her eyes were alight with measured excitement. It was infuriating— and it reminded her of Grier.
“Good,” LoLo said, as if it were settled. As if nothing all that significant had transpired. As if Tobin’s life hadn’t literally just flashed before her eyes, revealing a reality she’d tried to actively prevent. As if Tobin had any say in it at all.
“Good?” Tobin practically yelled. “LoLo! Wha—what do I do?”
She hung her head. Her heart was still racing, though the rush of blood in her ears had settled. She felt its echo, reminding her of what she’d just learned—what she’d just accepted.
It was a quiet, persistent rhythm: her heart, thrumming inside her chest. The rush of Grier’s name, sluicing through her veins.
The name of the woman she loved.
Lub dub, in love, lub dub, in love, in love.
In love.
“Child, this is the obvious part.”
Tobin looked at LoLo, her face a mix of self-satisfied contentment.
“You love,” LoLo said simply. “And that… is the finest way to live.”
Tobin was a mess. A hot, fucking, anxious mess.
She’d barely slept last night, her mind reeling from her conversation with LoLo—and the one with Harrow when she got home.
She’d arrived home after the orchard visit to find Harrow pretending not to be anxiously waiting for her in the living room. Tobin didn’t bother delaying the deposition. She’d walked right over to the couch and dropped heavily onto the cushions.
“I’m in love with Grier.”
Her throat constricted in anxiety, even as her body was pummeled with the umpteenth dose of adrenaline that day. She was in love—and her body was buzzing with the realization.
Her mind swam with questions, even as Harrow vibrated beside her. Her utter joy at Tobin’s admission escaped her body like a gleeful toddler, an exuberant squeal ringing in Tobin’s ears.
“LoLo is good!” she exclaimed, “I knew she’d figure you out.”
Tobin turned her head, strands of hair falling across her face like a curtain. “You knew,” she accused.
“Uhh—yeah, T. Literally everyone can see it. You’re happy, and it shows. Don’t fuck it up, okay?”
Grier’s impeccable timing had interrupted any further conversation—because that’s when Tobin’s phone started buzzing with an incoming FaceTime call.
She’d tried her best to act normal, but as she watched the clip of her own face on the screen, she knew she appeared stilted.
And her voice pitched artificially high.
Grier kept watching her with those discerning amber eyes, eyebrows scrunched adorably as she tried to quietly demystify Tobin’s thinly veiled composure.
She hadn’t said anything, though.
Now, Tobin was hiking beside Grier in the fading light of late evening, doing her damnedest to keep her shit together as she led them once again toward the forest clearing.
Grier still had no idea what the surprise was, though by now she’d figured out it included a picnic. For all Tobin could tell, Grier assumed that was all this was—a thoughtfully planned picnic in the forest.
Her body hadn’t stopped humming with the realization of her feelings yesterday.
Thoughts raced through her mind, chaotic and loud. Her hands had been unsteady all day—sweating and shaking with excited energy, aided by a constant supply of adrenaline while her feelings settled, erratic but determined, inside her bones.
She couldn’t wait to see the look on Grier’s face when the first fireflies began to flicker around them. She couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when the swarms descended, lighting up the clearing as if fulfilling an unspoken promise from their non-date all those weeks ago.
But what she really, absolutely, emphatically could not wait for was the look on Grier’s face when Tobin told her she was in love with her.
Grier squeezed her hand lightly, bringing her back to the present.
“Where are you?” she asked, her voice was soft—exculpatory.
Tobin’s heart had been racing for at least the last eighteen hours, but the sound of Grier’s voice and the gentle press of her fingers only emboldened the now-constant lub dub, in love inside her chest and head.
She squeezed Grier’s hand back—in three quick successions. “I’m just running ahead of myself a bit,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I think I’m as excited about your surprise as I think you’ll be when you get it.”
She didn’t give anything away—no sensory hints, no emotional clues.
Glancing around to orient herself, Tobin realized they were almost to the clearing.
“We’re almost there,” she said, tugging Grier’s hand gently. “C’mon.”
Tobin quickened her pace, leading Grier through the tree line, watching her from the periphery as they returned to the clearing where they’d spent their first date.
She hadn’t planned tonight with the intention of handing over her heart—but somehow, it felt inevitable. Like coming full circle.
Tobin watched as Grier took in the clearing, now lush with summer growth. Grier gently unlatched their fingers and walked a few paces into the open space. She spun slowly, trailing her hands along the tops of the tall meadow grasses as they rustled in the breeze.
Tobin’s stomach flipped when she heard the joyous, unrestrained laughter dislodge itself from Grier’s soul.
Grier looked at her—caught her, really—staring in wonder as she twirled through the meadow.
“You brought me back to our clearing! If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to woo me, Captain Maes.”
Tobin wanted to respond with a predictably witty retort. But she couldn’t today. Grier had just called this their clearing.
She liked that idea—that this could be theirs.