We're not saying it yet; the actual words feel too big, too scary, too much after eight years of silence. But we know.
And for now, that's enough.
20
MAYA
"Ihave a surprise for you."
Jackson's standing in the kitchen doorway, keys in hand, that look on his face that means he's up to something.
It's been three days since the parking lot conversation, three days of stolen moments and careful touches and pretending around Emma that nothing's changed. Three days of feeling like I'm walking on air and drowning at the same time.
"What kind of surprise?" I ask.
"The kind where you need to come with me. Now."
Emma looks up from where she's feeding Ethan. "Where are you two going?"
"Library," Jackson says smoothly. "Maya wants to look at some nursing job postings, and the internet here has been spotty."
The lies from us come so easily now. I hate it.
"Okay. Have fun." Emma goes back to wrestling applesauce into Ethan's mouth.
I grab my jacket and follow Jackson to his truck. Once we're safely out of the driveway, I turn to him.
"Library?"
"I panicked."
"Clearly. Where are we actually going?"
He just smiles. "You'll see."
The drive takes twenty minutes, winding through streets I don't recognize until we end up downtown, pulling into the parking lot of the Hartford Museum of Art. It's Tuesday afternoon, and the lot is nearly empty except for a few scattered cars that probably belong to staff.
"The museum?" I ask.
"Not just the museum." He kills the engine, turning to face me with that same secretive smile. "The entire museum."
"What?"
"I rented it. For the afternoon. Just us."
I stare at him, my heart doing something complicated in my chest. "You rented an entire museum?"
"Yeah."
"Jackson, that literally breaks one of our rules. No romantic gestures."
"Fuck the rules." He's already out of the truck, coming around to open my door like he's done a hundred times before, but this time it feels different, weighted with intention. "We adjusted them, remember? This is me acknowledging that you're not just someone I'm sleeping with. You're—" He pauses, his hand finding mine. "You're everything."
My chest tightens. He still hasn't said the actual words, neither have I, but we're dancing around them, getting closer every day, and it's terrifying and thrilling in equal measure.
Inside, a woman in her fifties greets us with a warm smile. "Mr. Anderson. Everything's ready for you. You have the museum until five. Just let me know if you need anything."
Then she disappears through a side door, leaving usalone in the lobby.
