“Yes, we’re going to the bookstore downtown. It’s Night of the Books,” Amelia says while beaming at me as if she’s genuinely excited.
I am too.
“Have fun,” Hendricks says, walking to his apartment door.
“We will,” Amelia replies but looks at me. We take the elevator down to the garage and walk up to the Tesla. “Is this your car? I’ve always wanted to ask but somehow forgot.”
“No, we share it. Like everything else…” I say, trailing off.
Wait. A. Damn. Minute.
We share it like everything else.
Why can’t we shareher?
Notlike a thing, but as a solution to keep us all together? If she had all of us, not just one, she would have everything she’d ever need. It would reassure me, knowing that what I can’t give her, Misha and Grey can. And it would help us, keeping us together because she doesn’t have to choose between us, and we don’t have to choose between her and our family.
I just debugged this issue.
Holy shit.
This is the fucking answer to all of our problems. But I can’t talk to her about it yet. I’ll need to talk to them first. Get them on the same page so we can propose it to her.
But God, my chest feels like ten times lighter already.
Thereisa way to have it all.
I open the passenger door for her, and a few moments later, we’re off to the bookstore. The silence between us feels heavy, so I ask, “Everything okay?”
“Yes, I’m sorry. I’m nervous. Like just as nervous as I always was when we had our little coffee meetups before we knew each other, with those stupid little one-word conversations.”
“Our stupid little one-word conversations meant more to me than you know,” I say, reaching out to grab her hand and pull it toward me, kissing the back of it before resting her palm on my leg.
I have no idea how I’m so bold lately. Probably because I know she wants this, and now I know this could have a future for all of us. So, I allow myself to do what I want and not overthink it too much.
This is our first real date, and I want to enjoy it to the fullest.
Fuck my insecurities.
We all saw where they’ve brought us.
The silence is back, and I squeeze her hand, hoping to reassure her. The warmth of her touch is a comforting reminder that she’s here with me and chose to be here tonight.
“I’m sorry, I’m not good with words,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.
The fact that she’s back to being shy with me, that she’s as nervous as I am, gives me a push. I can take the lead tonight if she needs me to. “That’s fine. I’m good at reading your eyes. I’ve had a lot of practice with it,” I reply, trying to lighten the mood.
She smiles faintly, and I can see a hint of relief in her expression. “You’re wearing your hair differently today,” she says, reaching out to push it out of my forehead. Her touch sends a shiver down my spine, and I glance over at her.
“Do you like it?”
She shrugs. “I likemyOliver more, but it looks good.”
She likes me for me.
We arrive at the bookstore, and the event is in full swing. A few people are standing around, chatting and mingling. The place is cozy, with dim lighting casting a warm glow over the shelves packed with books. Small reading nooks are scattered around, each with plush chairs, warm lamps, and snacks invitingly laid out.
As we step inside, I squeeze Amelia’s hand, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. She looks around, her eyes wide with wonder. “I’ve never been here in the evening. It looks so different.”
