Chapter 26 Mile Twenty-Six
MILE TWENTY-SIX
BIRTHDAY PRESENT
My muscles hum with relief as the hot water licks against my body.
The post-workout shower may be my favorite part of training.
I glide the African Net Sponge along my legs, reveling in how toned they’ve gotten.
Ten months ago, I joked with Garrett about how training and his meal plan would reshape my body, and it did—to an extent.
I’m stronger with more muscle definition, but retain my soft curves and still slightly squishy belly.
I love my body’s strength and what it can do.
It’s wild to think that I’m two weeks away from running an entire marathon.
In the last three months, Anker and I have built a solid training routine.
We train together three times a week with solo conditioning sessions on the other days, except Sundays.
Since Anker is a morning person, and I want my lazy Sundays with Garrett, we swapped.
I train with him Saturday mornings, go home to shower, and then head out for some lady bonding with Catherine.
Each week, we have lunch, dialing in Kayla, who’s back in Oxford, for a virtual check-in, before we head out for whatever activity Catherine has planned.
The only thing I know about this week’s adventure is to dress for tea. It makes me think, we’re going to McKenna’s Tea Cottage. It’s one of my favorite places to go to on special occasions.
I slip on the large pink hat that matches the 1950’s-inspired sundress that flatters my figure. With a spritz of perfume, I head to meet Catherine.
“Look at you rocking Barbie’s dream tea party getup!” Catherine coos as I meet her in front of my building.
“Thank you.” I offer a curtsy. “And I’m sure you’re in something equally fancy.”
“That I am.” She touches the brim of her purple hat. “I’m even rocking Grandma O’Brien’s pearls.”
I tilt my head. “Okay, what’s happening, woman?”
This is all a little fancy for a typical Saturday. It makes me suspect she has something up her sleeve.
“Patience, my dear Jensen.” Playfulness hums in her sassy lilt.
Arms looped, we mosey down the street. My apartment is a short walk from downtown. The cool ocean breeze mixes with the sun’s warmth, making it the perfect fall day stroll with my bestie. Plus, our outfits are too cute not to be on parade.
Hoots and cheers of “Happy birthday!” greet us as we walk into the cottage’s outdoor courtyard.
“What! What did you do?” Laughing, I twist to face Catherine.
“Not me.” She points to Garrett, who stands at the center of the cluster of people—my people. “Your man.”
Garrett strides up. The sunshine allows me to take in how the pale gray suit he wears molds over his muscular frame.
“Happy birthday, pretty girl.” He kisses my cheek.
“It’s not until Wednesday.” I laugh, which is my new coping mechanism for when the emotions overflow inside me.
My tears still come, but I’m getting better at redirecting them with the work I’m doing with Dr. Nor. As she says, tears are just the body’s natural safety valve to ensure things don’t become too much.
It appears my boyfriend has booked the entire teahouse for the afternoon to celebrate my thirtieth birthday.
Everyone is here. Even Kayla dialed in. My parents drove down from Solvang.
They and Garrett’s parents, Ellie and Jason, are swapping embarrassing stories about us over tea sandwiches.
I can’t believe they and Bryce, Lara, and Marshall all flew in.
Garrett even invited Andrew and his husband, who are trying to play matchmaker with Anker and Lara.
Though, neither of them appears interested in the other beyond friends.
It’s for the best. Anker is still hung up on Sonora.
Not to mention, as Catherine teases, this friend group has enough clichéd romantic trope pairings with Garrett and me.
“I can’t believe you did all this,” I whisper to Garrett.
“I’d do anything for you.” He bands his arms around me. “I hope you know that.”
“I do.” I tip my head up to him, my heart about to burst with how much I love this man.
“Come with me.” He takes my hand and guides us into the cottage. “I have something for you.”
“Is it a quickie in the bathroom?” I wiggle my hips.
“Not when your father, who brags about being descended from Vikings, is ten feet away.” He laughs.
“Not to mention my uncles and Aunt Margot, and she’s a black belt.”
Once in the cottage, he places a giftbox in my hand. I run my fingers on the smooth paper and the silky ribbon binding it.
“You didn’t need to get me a present. This is already so much,” I say, but open the gift anyway.
I pull out a scarf, a hat, and a pair of gloves. The fabric is buttery soft against my skin.
“Are these cashmere?”
“And they are pink.” He grins. “Thought they’d keep you warm when we look at Christmas lights this year.”
Plans. So many plans. For a man who only wanted time with the people he loves, Garrett has laid out more and more plans for us.
A cooking class we signed up for next week.
The joint Halloween costume of us as lion tamers and Ditka as our fierce feline.
A trip to London in the spring for the marathon and to visit Kayla.
With each big and small plan, I know that Garrett’s own healing journey is progressing to the next mile marker.
“Chicago in December is no joke, so I’ll want to ensure you’re warm.”
“Chicago?” Head tilted, my face wrinkles.
“I thought we could spend Christmas there.”
I want to ask if he was sure, but bite back that question. Garrett knows when to push, pull back, and stop. Just as I do.
He folds his arms around me. “Anker has agreed to cover at the hospital and watch Ditka, so I thought we could take advantage of your two weeks off. A week with my family, and then I’ll fly us off to some place warm that involves you wearing very few clothes.”
“Okay,” I murmur.
It’s such a poor response for all that this means.
This isn’t just spending the holidays with his family but being with him for his first holiday season in Chicago since losing Val.
Garrett’s biweekly therapy sessions have helped him develop coping strategies to deal with his grief.
This is a big step for us as a couple, but an even larger one for him.
“We’ll even spend a few nights at the Palmer House, so I can take you to the home of the original brownie.”
“Really?” I wiggle against him. “Best birthday ever!”
He brushes my nose with his. “Just wait until next year, pretty girl.”