Malia’s condo is nice. It speaks to how well she’s doing, and like her car, I think it’s a statement to her family. The tile throughout the main floor is white barnwood, and everything is stark black and white. The room opens into a living area with stylish white couches and a black rug with white stripes in the center. I perch on one of the couches to wait for Malia, and grin at the bouquet of pink daisies in the center. She’s exactly the typeof person to have a few little somethings around celebrating a holiday like Valentine’s Day.
Only a couple minutes pass before Malia comes down the stairs wearing an olive-green dress that makes her skin glow. It’s loose and has a deep V-neck. Her hair is pulled back into a sleek ponytail of brushed-out curls, and she looks stunning.
“Coffee!” she exclaims when she strides toward me. “I didn’t have time to make anything. You’re a saint.” She holds out the cup and giggles. “Adorable. I like you a latte too, Cal.”
Every time she calls me that, it warms me more and more. I think about how Carlie texted me that she could tell that Malia and I had known each other a while, and it shows in the little gestures like that. “We were up pretty late last night.”
She smiles at me over her cup. “I really enjoyed it, though.”
“Me too.”
We stare at each other for a second before she looks down at the top of her cup, taking another sip and still smiling. “Should we go?” She picks up some type of jacket, and I step in to help her slide her arms through the wide sleeves, though it takes me a second to locate them because of the shape.
“My car again?” Malia suggests.
I move to her front door and chuckle. “Law was spying last night and ‘happened’ to see your car at my house late.” I make air quotes so she knows hownotcoincidental it was. “They’re now convinced it’s real.”
Malia laughs. “You’re very chill about said spying.”
I shrug and open the door for us. “They know me too well. It doesn’t surprise me that they’re nosy about the situation.” And they can tell that I like Malia—Carlie definitely can, and she’s certainly shared that with Law. She’s come a long way in trusting people since my relationship with Ivy, but I think there’s something more to her believing that this is good between me and Malia. That it’sreal, in her words.
It feels morerealto me.
I rest my hand lightly on Malia’s back as we make our way down the front steps to my car. “So there will probably be some teasing, fair warning.”
“I think I can handle it.” She turns to look at me, her eyes bright.
I pull her door open for her when we reach my car. “Thank you again for doing this for me, Malia. It was a pretty big ask, and you’ve been amazing.”
She trails a hand down my arm and holds my hand as she slides into the car. “It’s been fun,” she says, squeezing my hand. “And worth it,” she adds almost under her breath.
I close the door and make my way around the front of the car. “Definitely worth it,” I say to myself.
The wedding is at a venue in a park in downtown Houston. The reception will be in a restaurant on the property, but the wedding itself is in a greenhouse-style building with flowers and greenery covering most of the surfaces. Everything is in soft pinks and cream, keeping with Carlie’s Valentine’s theme. Which reminds me—I reach into my suit coat pocket as I lead Malia into the venue and pull out a small card that I bought from the clearance basket at the grocery store near my apartment. I passed by a whole case of cellophane-wrapped roses that probably would’ve been a more appropriate Valentine’s Day gift for my “girlfriend,” but I liked this idea better. It fits Malia. It’s a kid’s Minecraft Valentine’s Day card that says, “Hey Valentine, I dig you.” I even filled it with conversation hearts.
When we step inside the building, the sun beaming on us, I pull her to the side. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Malia.” I hand her the card, biting back a smile.
“Oh, Cal,” she says, her words shaking with laughter. “This is so sweet.”
“Just wait until you read it.” I wiggle my eyebrows playfully, and she quickly rips it open, bursting into laughter again.
“I’m especially grateful for the conversation hearts.” She pulls one out, reads it, and then pops it into her mouth. “Perfect wedding ceremony snack.”
“Can I show you to your seats?” a voice asks, turning our attention to a teenage boy I don’t know who has an “Usher” tag on the lapel of his suit.
“Yes, thank you.” Malia smiles at him and tucks the card into a small cream purse she’s carrying.
“Caleb Gallagher,” I tell him, “and my girlfriend, Malia.”
He nods. “You’re right up here at the front, Mr. Gallagher.” He strides ahead of us, up the aisle strewn with pink rose petals.
I put my hand on Malia’s back as we follow him to our seats. She leans into me as we walk, and suddenly I want to know exactly what’s for show and what’s actually real between us.
I’m definitely regretting not saying anything last night. It seems stupid in the light of day, given everything that’s happened between us. There’s something here. It’s in Malia’s touch, the way she looks at me, the times I catch her blushing at small things.
It’s fine. We’re still “pretending” for my family’s sake, but I can tell her soon that since I brought her home last night, it’s been all real for me. I’m hoping I’m not misreading that it’s real for her too.
CHAPTER 12
