I reached for my hair tie, slipping it off my wrist and snapping it once, twice against my skin. The small sting distracted me from the real pain of a broken heart. I'd been wearing the same black elastic for days, too numb to care about the tangled strands of hair caught in it or the way it had started to lose its elasticity.
My phone buzzed, and my heart lurched as Garner's name appeared on the screen.
Garner: Are you at the park?
I stared at the message, the first direct communication we'd had in days. My fingers hovered over my phone for a second, unsure how to respond.
Me: Yes. Near the oak tree. You coming?
Garner: On my way. Don't leave.
I frowned at the screen. There was an urgency to his message that seemed out of proportion for our planned fake breakup. Then again, maybe he wanted to get this over with as much as I did.
The band finished their first set to enthusiastic applause, and the singer announced they'd be taking a short break. People began standing, stretching, heading to the food trucks or restrooms. I stayed put, scanning the crowd for Garner's familiar broad shoulders and dark hair.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the lead singer's voice suddenly came through the speakers again. "Before we start our second set, we've got a local who'd like to say a few words."
Great. This was it. The big surprise Ruby mentioned. I braced myself to see some other woman get her happy ever after. Then I saw Garner climb the steps to the small stage. My breath caught.
He looked different. Still unmistakably himself—all tall, broad-shouldered, the sleeves of his button-down rolled up to expose the tattoos curling around his forearms—but there was something in the way he carried himself, a nervous determination I wasn't used to seeing.
The crowd quieted as he approached the microphone. Garner wasn't exactly known for public speaking. He'd rather eat glass than be the center of attention.
"Hey, everyone," he said, his deep voice amplified by the mic. "Sorry to interrupt the music. I promise I'll keep this short."
My pulse spiked. This wasn't part of our plan. We were supposed to have a quiet argument on the edge of the park, just visible enough to satisfy the town gossip mill. Not... whatever this was.
"Most of you probably know me. I'm Garner McCrae. I work at Priest's tattoo shop down on Main." He paused, running a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture I'd seen a thousand times. "And some of you might have heard that Olivia Vale and I got married recently."
A murmur of confirmation rippled through the crowd. I froze, feeling dozens of eyes suddenly searching for me. The heat of embarrassment climbed my neck as I realized everyone was about to witness not only our fake breakup, but a very public one.
"The thing is," Garner continued, his voice steadier now. "I was supposed to end something tonight. That was the plan." He took a deep breath. "Instead, I realized I've been feeling things I can’t fake anymore."
Wait. What?
"Olivia and I have been friends since we were kids. She's the first person I want to tell when something good happens, and the only person I want to see when something bad does." His eyes scanned the crowd, searching. "She's my best friend. The girl who's been in my head, my sketchbook, my life for years. And I've been too scared to say what I should've said a long time ago."
Our eyes finally locked across the distance. Everything between us faded into the background. The families, the band, the summer evening… it all disappeared. Everything except Garner who was looking right at me with an intensity that stole my breath.
"I love you, Olivia." His voice cracked slightly on my name. "I've loved you since before I even knew what love was. And if you'll let me, I'm ready to stop pretending and start being yours for real."
A collective gasp swept through the crowd. Someone nearby whispered, "Did he just—?" while another voice hissed, "Shhh!" I barely registered any of it, my entire world narrowed to the man on stage who had laid his heart bare in front of our entire town.
For a moment, I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. The words I'd dreamed about hearing for so long echoed in my head, almost too wonderful to believe. Garner loved me. Not as a friend, not as a convenient fake wife, but truly loved me.
And he'd told everyone.
I stood slowly, my legs unsteady. The crowd parted to create a path between us. Each step I took toward the stage felt momentous, like crossing a threshold I could never return from.
Garner jumped down from the stage as I approached, meeting me halfway. Up close, I could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the slight tremble in his hands. He was terrified, and so was I.
"Did you mean it?" I whispered, needing to be sure.
Instead of answering, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. It was a sketch of me with my hair twisted up on top of my head, my eyes closed in sleep, and a peaceful smile on my lips. The detail was exquisite, drawn with such care that I could feel the love in every line.
"I've been drawing you for years," he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear him. "Every mood, every moment. I think I've been trying to tell you how I felt the only way I knew how."
My fingers traced the edge of the paper, remembering the sketch I'd found at Miles and Kinley's. "I saw one of these. I thought maybe..."
