I want it. I want a future with Sophie. I want slow Sunday mornings and sunsets together. I want the book club meetingsand to read quietly on the couch together. I want to clean the fridge, pay the bills, and do laundry together.
I want the boring, I want the filler, I want it all with her. I will do anything to make it happen.
That day in the store with Elise springs to my mind. The way she had tried to make Sophie feel small swirls around my stomach like acid. All I felt from her strange behavior was confusion. I've had women come into the store and try to flirt with me before, but I never really knew how to flirt back, and honestly, never really wanted to.
Not until Sophie, at least.
But I didn't even have to flirt with her. All I had to do was put my foot into my mouth multiple times and just... be honest.
It was the complete truth when I said I wasn't tempted by Elise, not even for a second. She was no doubt objectively beautiful to most, but I have Sophie. I have the most wonderful, kind, and caring woman in the world. I have her, and I love her. Why would I want anything else?
God, and I'm starting to think that she might love me too.
Today was perfect.
We had spent the evening at the store for an impromptu birthday party for me, set up by the wonderful woman in my arms. She had called all of our friends, directing them on what to bring—much like I had on her birthday—and after we closed up early, she had sternly sent me upstairs to the apartment so they could set up.
When I was allowed to come back down, the store was set up just as it had been on her birthday. The table pulled out to the front, with a spookyHappy Birthdaybanner on the wall. Orange and black streamers dangled from the ceiling, and balloons were scattered across the floor, and helium-filled ones were tied to the chairs.
Spiders, black cats, and pumpkin confetti were tossed allover the orange tablecloth. April brought cupcakes—my favorite: chocolate on chocolate with cute cat and spiderweb ring toppers stuck into the frosting. Sophie and my mom organized catering from the local Italian place I love. Atticus and Jane brought the drinks, while Parker was in charge of decorations, since the party store is right next to the record shop.
Apparently, Tonya had to remind him to pick up the balloons—and then go with him—because he couldn't figure out how to fit all of them in his little Subaru.
Thank God Tonya has an SUV and the patience of a saint.
I couldn't stop watching Sophie all night as she flitted around the room, making sure everyone was taken care of, despite all of us playfully—but not really—threatening her to sit down and rest. She needed it more than anybody. I had to sit down on one of the chairs and pull her into my lap, playing theit'smy birthdaycard and playfully demanding that I needed her next to me to celebrate.
She had obliged, of course, and I was glad for it.
She's working full-time, enduring chemotherapy, still attending book club meetings, going to doctors' appointments, and somehow finding the energy to spend with me. Not that I think she's fragile, how can I when she's the strongest woman I've ever met, but I worry that she doesn't rest enough, and that the chemo side effects are bothering her more than she lets on.
That maybe, deep down, she still feels like she has something to prove.
I don't want her to burn herself out, I want—no, I need—her to be happy and healthy.
She listened and relaxed with me for the rest of the party, and that was the only birthday gift I'd ever ask for.
When everyone sangto me, Sophie surprised me by having Jack and Oliver join us on FaceTime on my phone; her sticky little fingers had swiped it when I wasn't looking, so my friendscould celebrate with me from a distance. Jack appeared to be in the living room of his apartment, going back and forth between singing obnoxiously and smiling at someone off-camera that I can't see. Oliver seemed to be in the hospital's break room, not quite singing, but smiling softly all the same.
They both thanked Sophie for calling them and said they couldn't wait to meet her. My heart had expanded at that—my best friend's complete acceptance and approval of Sophie felt like a final puzzle piece snapping into place.
Unfortunately, the only one who couldn't make it was Bailey, as she was on a tight deadline for the article about Sophie and had to review the final print with her Editor. She already texted me happy birthday earlier in the day, though, and, as a little birthday gift, sent me the rough draft to read through first.
Not ashamed to admit that I cried while reading it. And then when I read it the second time. And the third.
It was honest and raw, so beautiful, and highlighted Sophie in the most radiant way.
And I am just so damn proud of my otter.
She was vulnerable, genuine, and warm. She put herself out there, completely raw about her betrayal, about the pain she felt, the grief she worked through, and about her treatment experience so far. She bravely expressed her fears about the uncertain future and the hope she feels, thanks to the support of her family and friends.
I just can't stop staring in awe at this incredible woman currently shoveling a spoonful of cookie dough into her mouth.
I love you.
Her words from the article strike me, landing deep into my bones.
"My entire life changed that day I walked into that store and met Callum. He didn't look at me like I was fragile. He didn't tryto fix me. He just made me laugh. He let me feel normal again. And now he's... he's everything to me."
