I nod my head, he’s right. I’m as close as ever with Aiden, and my friendship with Theo has only grown over time. Between them, Gabe, Abbie, and Ciarán, I finally have the family I alwayswanted. I have people who see the real me and don’t expect a show.
“It’ll be fun,” Gabe says encouragingly.
“Yeah, it will,” I agree.
He gives me a broad smile. “I’m going to talk to some more people before they clear out.”
I give his waist a squeeze. “Sure, find me later.”
I make my way over to Aiden and Abbie with a dopey smile on my face.
“You look like you’re about to propose,” she says in greeting.
“I do not,” I say defensively, patting the small box in my pants. I bought the ring a month ago, the only person I told was Aiden, and I asked him not to tell anyone. I shoot him a look, but he shakes his head, lips pursed, trying not to laugh.
“I’m joking. You just look so smitten,” she says, grinning. “It’s adorable.”
I let out a nervous laugh, hoping she doesn’t hear how strained it is.
By the time everyone leaves, the nerves and anticipation have me in a sweat. It’s just me and Gabe, tidying up the last of the event now. He keeps flicking his eyes toward me as he chews on his lip.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
He nods his head, gaze distant as he stares at the nook, fairy lights still twinkling above. We never took the extra ones down after our first date, and the space is glowing.
“Can I read something from my journal to you?” His voice wavers as though he’s nervous to ask. I step into his space and take his hand.
“Of course,” I tell him, looking into his eyes, wondering what this is about.
He walks us to the store counter and grabs his journal from behind it, then leads us to the nook. When he looks back at me, his cheeks are pink, and he has that lovely, shy smile on his face.
“This is where we first kissed,” he starts, the memory making me smile. “Where we had our first date.”
I laugh, seeing the spark of happiness light his eyes, that, and the twinkle from the fairy lights, make them look like gleaming emeralds.
“Yeah, baby. Some of the best moments of my life.”
His eyes crinkle at the corners. “Me too. I, um, wrote something… about us.”
I nod, dying to know what it is. He clears his throat, cheeks going impossibly red. Tears form in his eyes, and his voice wobbles. I’m not prepared for what I hear next:
“He didn’t try to fix me. He didn’t rush in with false promises or easy light.
He stayed—close enough that I could find my way back.
On the days when it felt like the world was water and I was one breath away from drowning, he sat beside me and waited. Sometimes he said nothing at all, just reached out a hand—and somehow, that was enough. Enough to remind me there was air above the surface, and that I was still capable of reaching it.
Love like that doesn’t shout. It doesn’t demand. It’s quiet and constant and stubborn in its devotion.
I used to think I had to be whole before I could be loved. But he showed me that love isn’t conditional—it’s the hand holding yours through every stumble, every wretched sob, every rise back toward the light.
And maybe that’s what healing really is. Not escape. Not forgetting.
Just learning how to breathe with the person you love, over and over again.”
When he finishes reading, silver-lined eyes find mine. They’re a forest after the rain—tender green, opening to the light. They’re spring, and new life. Growth where old wounds used to live.
I can’t breathe. My throat burns as my fingers wrap around the box in my pocket. I swallow hard. All I can do is meet his gaze and let him see it there—the promise I’ll always be there for him, always love him. And when he exhales, shoulders loosening on a relieved breath, it’s like watching him come home to himself.
