twenty-five
It’s Saturday morning in late October and Will’s up early and downstairs. Because that’s him. I’m feeling lazy this morning and stretch out on the bed. I’ve been spending more and more time at his place. It just feels natural to go to bed here and wake up here, even if it’s usually at 6 a.m. I listen. The house is still quiet, unlike last night, when we hosted the monthly family dinner with Margot and Ari. It was a lot of noise and a lot of life—especially with the boys. Avid got his head stuck in the banister and we were all distraught until Will reminded everyone, including Avid, that if he could get his head in, surely he could get it out. With Will’s reassurance, the little boy calmed down, and slid his head back through the railing. They were all banished to the basement until dinner. It was loud and messy but I found myself actually relaxing into the chaos—like, it wasn’t perfect, and it didn’t need to be. And in that, it felt calming. Seeing Addie with her cousins reminded me how important family can be and how nice it can be to have this built-in support system of people who care for you unconditionally.
But maybe the most surprising of all has been Margot. We’re never going to be BFFs, that’s for sure, and I don’t even know if she’ll ever get to really like me, but last night, before leaving, she looked me in the eyes and told me she could see how happy Will and Addie are. She didn’t say “because of me” but I know that’s what she meant. She was almost warm. I thanked her, and meant it.
Now, I roll onto Will’s side of the bed and bury my face in his pillow. I take in his scent—that mix of musky deodorant and sweat—and then get out of bed.
“Mornin’, Sunshine.” Will slides me a coffee across the bar, which I take gladly. Tiny mounds of chopped veggies on a butcher’s block beside the stove tell me Will’s planning on omelets for breakfast—my favorite. I know he’s trying to make the mornings enticing so I’ll want to stay over, and I don’t mind one bit. “How’d you sleep?”
“Great, actually. I think you tend to change your sheets a lot more than I do. Makes a difference.” I take a sip of coffee and the warmth fills me. I smile. “You?”
“Never better.” He comes around the bar and runs his fingers up the back of my neck, through my tangled hair, and pulls my face into his. Tingles run down my spine.
“But I haven’t brushed my teeth yet,” I protest.
“Neither have I.” And then his mouth is on mine.
“Eww, it’s not even seven.”
Will pulls back and I turn around. Addie is standing there in one of Will’s old T-shirts and pajama bottoms. “Jeez.”
I laugh and pull her in for a hug and Will gets back to the omelets.
“Good morning to you, too,” I say.
After washing the breakfast dishes, Will reminds us of our full day. “Gymnastics in a half hour and then Zyata’s birthday party this afternoon.”
“And we still have to get her gift,” Addie reminds him.
“Right.” Will turns to me. “What are your plans?”
“I need to get a bit of work done at my place,” I tell him. And for a moment, I hate the way that sounds. I think he does, too, because he kind of flinches, but doesn’t say anything. “I want to start getting some of the books in order,” I say. “I need a system for knowing what I have. But I’ll be back around four—and then Addie, how about you and I work on your Halloween costume?”
I know I’ve let her down before, and maybe there’s a part of her that still might not fully believe me, that I’ll be back, that I’ll actually help her, but I know the only way to really earn her trust is through action. I know I’ll be here for her, not just this afternoon, but in the long run. And soon she’ll know, too.
“Awesome,” Addie says, beaming.
“Oh, and don’t forget,” I say as Will pops a couple of slices of bread into the toaster. “The Olympigs are next weekend. We have to go there straight from your gymnastics practice, so don’t make any other plans. No VR or errands.”
“We know,” Addie groans, pouring herself a glass of orange juice. “You remind us every day.”
I laugh. “I know. It’s just so important to Izzy,” I say. “We can’t forget. Also, when I was talking to her yesterday she told me that she has a very special job for you.”
“She does?” And Addie’s eyes light up. “What is it?”
“There’s a smaller 2K run just for kids,” I tell her. “Kids sometimes have to get transplants, too.” Addie nods, her face serious. “So she was thinking maybe you could be the one to give the kids their medals when they finish.”
She smiles broadly. “Yes, definitely. I’ll do a great job—I’ll think of a cheer.”
Will turns to me. “That’s the perfect job for Addie.”
I think of how Izzy couldn’t have kids and feel warmed that I have a part in bringing Addie into Izzy’s life, too.
“Oh, and another thing,” I say. “My dad and Jeannie are coming. And I was thinking that we could have them for dinner. With Izzy and Roddy. It won’t be as adventurous as your family dinners but—they’re my family.”
“I dunno. Do they taste good?”
I roll my eyes. “Will. Have them over for dinner, dummy. You know what I mean.”
“I have to say, I like all these plans you’re making for us…”
There’s a knock at the door but it opens before any of us even attempt to get to it. “Yoo-hoo,” Gillian singsongs as she enters. I haven’t seen her since the night I went to see Addie. I brace myself. “Brought you a coffee,” she says, focused on Will, handing him a takeout cup. She’s wearing yoga pants, white sneakers and a hoodie, and her hair is smooth and her makeup perfect, if a bit much for this early on a weekend morning. “I was thinking I could bring both girls this morning,” she says as Millie comes into the kitchen behind her. When Gillian finally sees me, she freezes, then turns to face Will. “What the hell is she doing here? Is this why I haven’t heard from you lately? Will…” She shakes her head.
Millie heads toward Addie, but Gillian puts her arm out, stopping her. “Come on, Millie, we don’t need this. Screw you, Will. You’re messing up your own life—and Addie’s. Millie, say goodbye to Addie because you’re not going to be seeing her outside of school and gymnastics—not as long as she’s around,” she says, her eyes focused on me. Millie and Addie both protest, but Gillian tugs her toward the door and then it slams shut. Will, Addie, and I stand in stunned silence.
“Are you serious?” Addie says finally, her eyes wide, her face red. “So now Millie and I can’t hang out because of you guys?” She races up the stairs. I take a deep breath and turn to Will. His eyes are equally huge and his face equally angry.
“I knew this was going to blow up eventually.”
“You haven’t told her about us?” I say slowly. Anger, hurt, disappointment—these feelings all hit me at once.
Will sighs. “I haven’t actually seen her since we got back together, and my romantic life is actually none of her business. You know that.”
“But does she know that?” I ask, putting my hand on his arm, surprising myself with my own ability to feel bad for Gillian. “I think this is going to be really hard for her, and you’re doing what you accused me of doing—running away from a problem instead of facing it.”
“You’re right. I’ve been avoiding it.”
“I know it’s not easy to talk to her about something like this,” I say softly, trying to put myself in Gillian’s position. “She has a huge crush on you and she’s hurt. But right now, someone needs to talk to Addie.”
Will takes a deep breath. “You’re right. We’ve got to leave for gymnastics anyway, which is the last thing I want to be doing. But I’ll talk to Addie on the drive.”
He puts peanut butter on the toast and wraps it in paper towel. “And then I’ll talk to Gillian.”
I put my hand back on Will’s arm. “Try to be kind,” I say. He just looks at me, shaking his head.
“Kit Kidding,” he says, putting his arms around me. “You are simultaneously making my life hell and better by the moment. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I brush him off, laughing. “Good, cuz you’re stuck with me. I’ll see you later.”
I’m staring at the stack of books in my apartment, overwhelmed by decisions. I still haven’t figured out how I want to organize the garage. Alphabetically by genre just seems too obvious. I want my space to be special and unique. I want people to know that although the books they can get at the Book Nook are just books—books they could get at any store, at the library, online—there’s a reason to come to the Book Nook instead. But what is that reason? Discouraged, I pull out my phone and open Instagram. To my surprise, my @BookKit following has gone up again. I know this is mostly thanks to my true friends—Xiu, Gloria and Casey have been on board from the start and have been sharing the account in their stories. Within days a lot of @KitwithoutKids ladies were following me too. And that’s been nice to see, but what I love most about this new account are the comments. It’s not just people tapping the first emoji possible—no more 
or 
emojis or other superficial comments based purely on the photo without even reading the caption. Now, people are actually reading, responding to my posts. Sharing their thoughts on the book reviews I’ve posted. Sometimes they agree with me and want to add their own take. Sometimes they disagree with me and tell me why. Then other people jump in and comment on others’ comments. They start actual conversations. People have even gone back to some of my older posts, from before my page was public, to comment on those posts. I’m starting to feel like I’m even making friends—@bookybookgirl and @readingwarrior are always the first to have something to say when I post, and I’m pretty much the same on their grids when they post, too. I’m building a community again, which was the best part of what I created with the No Kidding groups—bringing like-minded people together. That’s why the Book Nook has to be really thought out. I know that some of these readers are going to want to get together so that we can actually talk about the books. Last week, I even got my first request from an author asking if I would review her book—and telling me she didn’t mind if I gave her a bad review because she just loves what I’m doing and the community I’m creating.
A knock at the door breaks me out of my train of thought. I look through the peephole and nearly do a double take. It’s Gillian, and she looks tired. I stand back for a moment, wondering if she’s heard me, deciding if I should answer. And then she knocks again.
“Kit?” she says through the door. “Are you there?”
I take a deep breath and open the door, just enough to see her and give her the message that her unexpected visit isn’t welcome.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Gillian says. “I need to talk to you.” I stand there, staring at her. “Can I come in?” I have no clue what could possibly be so important that she needs to see me face-to-face for the second time in a day, but she looks sincere, so I step aside and let her in.
Gillian looks around. “Wow,” she says. “You sure have a lot of books.” I look into my apartment, seeing what she sees. Probably, to the uninitiated, my apartment seems bizarre. Cluttered. Without order. “Have you read them all?”
“No.”
“But why do you have them? Why not get rid of the ones you’ve already read? I never understand people who hang on to books. Also, have you considered built-ins?”
And there’s that tone, that Gillian tone that’s always a little bitchy and a whole lot judgy. But this time I hear it as someone different. I hear it as someone who’s maybe a bit frightened about things she doesn’t quite understand. And is trying to bond with me. Too bad I really don’t have the patience for her right now.
“What do you want, Gillian?” I ask her, folding my arms across my chest.
“Right, well,” she says, shaking her head. “Can we sit?” I motion for her to step in farther. My couch is filled with books so I wave a hand at the stools at the island.
“Nice view,” she says, turning to look out the windows. When I don’t respond, she turns back to face me. She’s wringing her hands together and I exhale, feeling a bit sorry for her. Not a lot, but a bit. “I want to apologize for this morning,” she says. “I behaved poorly. Very poorly.” When I still don’t say anything, she continues. “I put the girls in the middle of this whole thing, too, which,” she exhales, “was so awful. They were a shitshow at the gym. And this has nothing to do with them and everything to do with Will and me.” Her face is drawn. “I was wrong. How I acted, and about you. I know you don’t want to hear this, or probably anything about me, but when Peter left—Peter is my ex-husband—I was a mess. I mean, an absolute mess. I didn’t know how I was going to survive—financially, as a single mom, without a man. I was a stay-at-home mom. A kept woman. And I prided myself on that little gold star.” Gillian looks sheepish. “God, how pathetic does that sound?”
At this, I give her a sympathetic look, though she’s really just enforcing why I started the No Kidding group, why I spent so many years supporting women who wanted to support themselves, to break the stereotype that Gillian herself was perpetuating. But now, I nod to encourage her to go on. “Will was there and he filled a void—not all voids, but I guess, I always kept hoping.” She’s right, I don’t want to hear this. But this is her truth, so I let her continue. “Things were really good with us for so long. And then you came along, and I could see that Will was happy. Really happy. And instead of being happy for him, I hated you for it. I wanted to be the one to make him happy. Now Will’s so pissed at me,” she says. “I’ve never seen him so mad. So’s Millie. And Addie. And I deserve it. I fucked everything up. Everyone hates me and now I’ve lost everything.” I soften at her words because I’ve been there, I’ve felt what she’s felt—but at the same time, it’s hard for me to feel too sorry for her when she’s done nothing to be kind to me. “That’s not why I’m here,” she says suddenly. “I don’t mean—I’m not trying to fix things with you so Will won’t be mad at me. This isn’t some sort of ploy.”
I take a minute and close my eyes, trying to figure out what tactic to take. I turn back to her and say, “You may have fucked things up, but nobody hates you and you haven’t lost everything.” I sigh. “That’s a bit dramatic, right?” Why I am doing this? Shouldn’t I be yelling at her to get out of my apartment and to leave Will and me alone? But I can’t bring myself to do it. “You made a mistake,” I say. “And God knows, I’ve made plenty. And now you’ve realized it and you’re fixing it. I’m sure your coming here is going to mean a lot to Will. And to Addie and to Millie.” Gillian looks at me expectantly. “But it means a lot to me, and hopefully that’s the real reason you’re here.” Am I seriously almost forgiving this woman? “I know you’re not going to want to hear this,” I say. “But, I think we’re a lot alike, Gillian. You can come off as brash and rude,” I say, and at this Gillian purses her lips. “But deep down, I know that you are quite kind.” Her shoulders relax. I smile. “I just paid myself a compliment there, too.” We both laugh.
“Listen,” I continue. “I know how much you love Will and Addie. I love them, too.” I meet her eyes and she nods. “I think we both had this idea of who we were, who we thought we wanted to be, and then things changed. You just didn’t want the change. Maybe your ex-husband totally blindsided you when he left or maybe you knew it was coming but were in denial. Either way, you had to pick up the pieces and put yourself back together. And figure out a new path. I get it. For me, I so badly wanted to change, to be true to myself, to be with Will without secrets, without worrying what people would think, without worrying what it would mean to suddenly have a kid in my life, but just didn’t know how to go about it. And then I fucked up and lost a lot too. So here we are, different women from who we once were, just trying to figure it all out. I wish I could tell you that everything’s going to be OK. But…I can’t. You’re in love with Will and I get that, but I guess—you’re going to have to get over him, in some way or another. Be OK with being just friends with him, seeing me with him. Or maybe you can’t be OK with that and you’ll need some time away. I can tell you that I hope we can find a way to make things work. Mostly for the girls, but also because I know Will does like having you in his life. And I don’t want to stand in the way. I’m not saying we have to all start hanging out together or anything, but I don’t want to be your enemy, Gillian.”
Gillian exhales deeply and looks down at her feet, then back at me. “Me neither,” she says. “And I promise to try harder to be respectful of you guys, and no more freak-outs.” She stands, sighs and walks toward the door. Then turns back. “I want to say you lucked out with Will, but it’s not luck. On either side. I hope you guys make it. I think you’re probably really good together. And there are plenty of guys out there, right?” She gives a half smile. I walk toward her, and then, before I can overthink it, I hug her.
My gut instinct is to call Will the minute Gillian leaves, but I don’t. I’ll fill him in later. I get back to my books, thinking through my system. As the sun starts to dip behind the buildings I finish loading all the books into bins and then sit on the couch. It’s my favorite time of day—the light casting a golden glow across the sky, streaming into my apartment, casting a halo on everything it touches. I know that I’m going to miss this place. I take out my phone, but not to take a photograph. I text Will.
Be home soon. It’s not my home, but being with him, it feels like home.
After dinner, Will and I are sitting on his couch, drinking wine, listening to music and chatting about the day. Addie’s upstairs changing into the Halloween costume we worked on this afternoon.
“So…Gillian stopped by my place today.”
“Shit,” he says, rubbing his chin. “And you’re just telling me now?” He swivels to face me.
“I didn’t want to talk about it with Addie around.” I take a deep breath. “I’m not going to pretend I know what’s best for her, but what happened this morning, that wasn’t cool. It was really upsetting, on so many levels.”
“I know. I really laid into Gillian when I saw her at the gym,” Will says. “I didn’t want to bring it up again to you, but I told her it wasn’t OK, her barging in here like that, having a massive meltdown, treating you so terribly…”
“That’s the thing, though, Will. She walks in here because you let her. You know that she’s in love with you, and sure, maybe you haven’t reciprocated necessarily, but you haven’t exactly stopped her from having hope.” His face pales, but I continue. “I’ve spent a lot of years really fighting for women to stand up for themselves, to take care of themselves, and to be heard. And I don’t know a lot about Gillian, but I know she had to figure out how to be this single mom, and to go back to work, to support herself.” I reposition myself on the couch, tucking a leg underneath me. “And I feel like she’s put herself out there, to you, and put herself in a bit of a holding pattern in terms of her personal life, because of you. If you always knew that you weren’t interested, you should’ve told her that, straight up. So she knows when she’s watching a show with you, it’s as friends. If she’s bringing you coffee, it’s as friends. You know?” I’m more vehement than I intend, but I don’t back down. The old me is back.
It’s quiet in the house. Will is looking away from me. I bite my lip, knowing I’ve probably overstepped, and at the same time, feeling proud of myself for standing up for Gillian, even though it is Gillian.
“You’re right.” He sighs. “I guess my ego likes all the attention. Who wouldn’t? I told myself it was totally platonic on both sides, that we were two friends, with girls who were friends. But of course I knew it was more, on her side. Now she knows that there’s no chance for her and me, but only because I made it clear to her that I love you; that I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that you and I work out. But I need to apologize to her for leading her on. Because it’s the right thing to do and also because I’m a bit afraid of you.” He grins. “When you feel strongly about something, you don’t back down, huh?”
A small smile forms across my lips and I shake my head, my ponytail swinging over my shoulder. “Nope. So you’re really going to do whatever it takes to make us work? Like…” I slide my hand up his leg.
“Are you guys ready?” Addie interrupts and I pull my hand away, and turn to look up the stairs at her. She descends and we clap. She’s in her costume—a Pegasus, complete with wings and a long pink wig.
“You made that?” Will says, nudging me.
“We made it together.” I meet Addie’s eyes and she beams. My chest swells with an unfamiliar feeling.
“This is the best costume I’ve ever had,” she says. “If I don’t win a prize with this…well, actually,” she shrugs, “I don’t really care if I win anything or not because I love my costume so much.” She flips her wig over her shoulder. “Can I FaceTime Millie?” she asks Will.
“You bet.” She heads back upstairs and Will turns to me. “Slow clap on that one,” he says. “But you know what that means, right? Now that I’ve seen your skills there’s no getting out of it.”
“What?”
“You, me, couples costume. So what’s it gonna be: Peanut butter and jelly? Fork and knife?”
“Oh, no…” I shake my head.
“Yep, yep, yep. This is a side of me you probably didn’t know but I have always wanted to do a couples costume. Never have. So now, it’s you and me, Boss.” Then he makes a face. “Aw, shoot. Does this count as one of those times where I’m just deciding stuff and it’s irritating to you? Are you really saying no or are you sort of saying yes?”
I laugh. “In this case, I’m actually flattered that you want to do a corny costume together.”
He snaps his fingers. “Corn and butter. Very original. And since we’re on the topic of celebrating holidays together, I was thinking we could maybe host Christmas here, together? Invite both our families? We like to do a big Christmas Eve graze all night, sing carols by the fire kind of thing. But what are your traditions? Let’s make a new tradition together. And then there’s New Year’s Eve, and Valentine’s Day, of course…”
I laugh. “Let’s take it one holiday at a time, OK? Although now that you’ve got me thinking about mistletoe…” I lean over and press my lips to his, feeling my entire body melt into him as he wraps his arms around me.
I spend the following weeks decluttering and cleaning the garage, only taking breaks to eat, sleep, and spend time with Will and Addie—I’ve helped her with a book report and to build a replica of Saturn for the science fair, and we’ve been baking batches and batches of muffins. Even though Will’s an excellent cook, he hates to bake—and it turns out I love it. Addie and I are trying to perfect our own special recipe and the latest batch went into the oven an hour ago. Will has been great, especially when I had to haul out most of the contents of the garage—his tools, bins of Addie’s old clothes, a bar fridge, a rug—the list felt endless. Will never complained and figured out where to fit everything in the basement. He even got a pre-fab shed, with Dad’s advice, for all the outdoor stuff—lawn mower, bikes, shovels. I’ve spent days hosing down and scrubbing the floors and walls, then more days painting the walls a shade called Skywash, a soft blue that I envisioned making the room look warm and cozy—but now that the paint is dry and I’m really assessing it, the room feels cold and empty. It doesn’t help that it’s been raining all day and the garage is damp and chilly and that I’m exhausted, and discouraged.
“Lookin’ good,” Will says as I’m gathering up the drop sheets Saturday afternoon, after doing the final touch-ups in the hard-to-reach spots, which always feels like the hardest work. I shove the folded drop sheets into a large garbage bag and sigh.
“I don’t know what you’re referring to. I know it’s not me—I look like one of those characters from Avatar.” I pull at the clump of hair that’s come loose from my ponytail. It’s covered in blue paint.
Will comes closer, brushing my hair off my face. “Not quite. They didn’t have blue hair, only blue bodies.”
I sigh and lean into him. His arms fold around me. When we break apart, I wave my hand around the room. “I don’t get it. I had this vision of how the garage would look and now it’s gone. All I see are oil stains and pipes I can’t move…maybe this whole thing was just a terrible idea.”
“What was a terrible idea?” It’s Addie. I turn and she’s standing in the door, a plate of muffins in her hands. “Ta-da,” she says. “I took them out of the oven myself.” I had completely lost track of time, but she’s so proud of herself that I don’t feel that bad that I abandoned our baking.
She places the plate on one of the large boxes holding the unbuilt shelves I ordered, then unwraps a muffin and hands it to me. I take a bite. “These are amazing. You think we nailed it?” I try to sound cheerier than I feel.
Addie takes a bite of hers. “Maybe it needs to be blueberries and chocolate chips.”
I smile and ruffle her hair.
“So what’s the terrible idea?” Addie asks again.
“This,” I say, sitting down on one of the boxes. Addie sits on one side, Will grabs a muffin and sits on the other. “You know when you build something up in your head for so long and you think it’s going to be so great, but then you go to do it and…”
“It’s not perfect?” Will finishes.
“Yeah.”
“No one wants perfect,” he says. “You have to forget about perfect. Tell us why you wanted to do this in the first place.”
I groan. “You know why.”
“Tell us again.”
So I do. My vision, the feeling I want to create for people. “To give people a getaway in the middle of the city, where they can go, and be in the most beautiful little retreat, and they can relax, and read and…” I sigh. “I’m describing a bookstore. This isn’t anything new. It’s exactly why bookstores were created. And I’ve fooled myself into thinking this is something special—”
“It is special,” Will says, putting his arm around me and pulling me close to him. He smells like sandalwood and I breathe deeply, trying to relax. “It’s not any bookstore. People can buy a book anywhere. It’s the feeling they’re going to get when they come in here. It’s you, injected into this space, the feeling you had when you came up with this idea. They’re going to feel that.” Will says it so emphatically that I have to believe him.
“Yeah,” Addie says, pumping her hand, which is holding a muffin, in the air. I laugh and put my arm around her, so we’re all connected.
“You’re right. It is special. I guess, I was just really hoping that I’d feel that connection to my mom, by creating this dream she had. And I’m worried I might never have that with her.”
“But you have us,” Addie says. “And I think this is the coolest thing ever.” She stands, clapping her hands together. “Who else has a bookstore right in their backyard?” I laugh, feeling better already.
“It’s just cold feet,” Will whispers, nudging me.
Addie waves her hands to get our attention. “I’ve got an idea, too.”
“What?” I say, smiling.
“You know how most kid sections are alphabetical? What if you don’t know what you want to read? I think you should group everything by subject. Like, if you love mermaid books, like I do, then here are all the mermaid books. But it can’t be just about books—people buy books on their computers or get them at the library for free. You have to make it so kids want to come and hang out. Make it fun. Like, get beanbag chairs, or drinks—with lids so they don’t spill—or maybe even get a hanging chair.” That idea seems to thrill her most. “Sorry,” she says. “I know this is your project.”
“No, I love your ideas,” I say, my enthusiasm returning. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to organize it all, actually.”
“Oh and then you have those fairy tale books,” she says. “Those could go over here.” She walks to the far corner of the garage, and I nod.
“Right.” I look to Will. “Have you noticed that most fairy tales have an evil stepmother?”
He grins. “I hadn’t, actually.”
“Well it’s true. I was considering not even selling fairy tales, but then, they’re part of history. And history doesn’t have to repeat itself.”
“I like the sounds of that,” he says, taking a step closer to me and nuzzling my ear.
“You guys are so embarrassing.”
I clear my throat. “You know, we can even organize some of the adult books the way you’re suggesting,” I say to Addie. “Not just by author, but by theme. If you like books with strong female characters, they’re all here,” I say pointing to a section of the wall. “And it can be a mix, romance, non-fiction, historical fiction. Lizzy Bennet can take her place next to Joan of Arc. I love it!” And I’m starting to see it again. My vision, my plan. I look to Addie and my eyes fill with tears.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Don’t cry,” she says. “This is going to be fun. And I can help you. I know you were going to do this with your mom, but maybe now you can do it with me.”
“Oh Addie.” I put my arms around her and hold her close. “I would love to do this with you.”
I sit back down and ask her to sit next to me. I pull my phone out of the front pocket of my sweatshirt. Holding out the phone with one hand, I pull Addie in toward me with my free arm. I grab Will with the other and pull him in too. When we’re all in the frame together, I tell them to smile and I snap a picture. We all lean in to look at it. My hair’s wild and Addie’s laughing, and the top of Will’s head is cut off. But we’re happy.
I open my Instagram app and write out a caption.
Coming soon…
And then I hit Share.
“You’re just gonna post it, just like that?” Will asks, teasing. “No editing, no scheduling?”
“Yep.” And then I slip my phone back into my pocket. “Just like that.”
Addie stands and heads back toward the door that leads through the yard to the house. “Back in a sec,” she calls. I watch her go, wondering what she’s up to, then turn back to Will as he wraps both arms around me.
“This is it,” he says.
“What is?”
He waves an arm around. “This. Us. This is what I’ve always wanted.”
“You always wanted someone to move your tools to the basement and take over your garage?” I tease.
“You know what I mean.”
I rest my blue hair on his shoulder and let myself totally relax. “Yeah, I do.” I breathe in the scent of this moment, so I can remember it later when things get tough or stressful or just plain tiring. Though one thing I’m learning is that it isn’t all or nothing, with Will. Every day, he seems to find ways to make things special, for us to share a laugh, to lighten a stressful moment. I always thought the perfect relationship meant long stretches of romance, but now I see that sure, there are dates, and nights alone, but it’s the everyday stuff, the stolen kiss while doing a mundane chore, that feels almost more romantic. Maybe not quite as romantic as an island getaway for two, but it’s definitely more real.
A few minutes later Addie returns, holding a brown, rectangular package.
“What’s that?” Will asks.
“It’s between Kit and me.”
“Alright, alright. I can take a hint.” Will kisses my forehead and then ruffles Addie’s hair on his way out of the garage. Addie hands me the package.
“This is for you. It was supposed to be for the grand opening, but I don’t want to wait.” She watches me as I unwrap the paper gently, careful not to rip it. I recognize the faded yellow of the book cover immediately. I turn it over and it’s a Nancy Drew book. But not just any Nancy Drew book, it’s #24: The Clue in the Old Album. I bring my hand to my mouth.
“How did you…?”
“What can I say, I guess I’m a super-sleuth.” She grins and sits down on the box, next to me. “You like it?” Her eyes are full of hope.
I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close, and kiss her on her head. “How could I not? Now everything’s complete.”