Page 120 of Just My Type of wrong guy

As we leave, I see the Walt Disney World Railroad train passing slowly, and I just point. She understands immediately, smiling as if the ride were the cherry on top. We sit side by side, our shoulders brushing, and let the world pass by around us. The cold wind hits our faces, the sky begins to turn shades of purple and orange. And here, in the comfortable silence between one station and another, I have one certainty: what makes this place magical isn’t the castles or the characters, it’s her.

***

Alexandra gave up visiting two rides to get here earlier and secure a spot right by the fence in front of the castle. She’s silent, not from exhaustion, but from anticipation. I pull my phone out of my pocket and finally read Victor’s reply to my email. I can’t help but smile.

He can be a jerk when he wants to — and most of the time, he does. But he’s also smart enough to recognize talent when he sees it. So reading that he can’t do anything but knows who can is a sign that things are moving in the right direction.

Rick: I’m loving watching the couple… Every photo I see, you guys are holding hands.

Sent just before lunch.

Guilherme: I can’t believe you chipped away at Alexandra ’s stone heart.

Guilherme: Am I the only one who didn’t see that coming?

Thomas: Yes, Gui, just you.

I chuckle, drawing Alexandra ’s attention, and tell her it’s just the boys being silly. I almost consider replying with something witty, but there’s nothing going on. Not really.

Rick: We can see when messages are read, A.J.

Me: If there was something to tell, I would’ve told you already.

I hit send, locking the phone screen.

The sky starts to darken, painted in shades of pink, purple, and gold. The late afternoon light reflects off the metallic balloons that dance above the families scattered along Main Street — blankets on the ground, kids on their parents’ shoulders, blinking lights on Disney tiaras and T-shirts. It feels like, just like Alexandra, the whole park is holding its breath.

The castle starts to transform before our eyes: first with soft glows, then with dancing lights. A voice in the background announces the beginning of the night, and the projection takes over the façade. The castle becomes a canvas for stories: Simba running through the savannah, Moana defying the ocean, Rapunzel spinning with her hair lit by the lantern rising, and Alexandra squeezes my hand, as if every character is a piece of her childhood lighting up right there again.

Standing beside me, she doesn’t blink. Her face lit by the lights of the show, her chin slightly lifted, her eyes wide, full of expectation… The wind picks up, and I adjust her coat over her shoulders, knowing she hasn’t even noticed the cold. Because everything here — the sound, the light, the smells, the details — feels like it’s been made to touch something deep within us. And I get it. I get what she’s always tried to show me with every movie, every song, and every silly animation theory.

When the first fireworks crack through the sky, sharp, loud, and full of color, she leans into me, gently tugging my arms around her waist. She holds me close without looking away from the spectacle in front of us. I hold her tighter, suddenly awarethat I’m holding the most precious thing I’ve ever touched. And I don’t ever want to let her go.

She stays pressed against me, her body soft and steady, but alive with emotion. Above the castle, bursts of color light up the sky, shades I don’t even have names for, each one dancing in sync with the music.A Whole New World, Let It Go, Circle of Life…songs that shaped who she is, now wrapping around us like a lullaby written for this exact moment.

She only steps back when the last spark fades from the sky. I wipe the tear slipping down her right cheek. Her eyes are red, like she spent the entire show quietly falling apart in the best way.

“That was so precious, A.J…” she says, her voice quiet. “I felt my chest tightening with every note, like part of me was being rewritten in that moment. A lighter, more whole, happier version.”

“Thank you for letting me watch this from the best seat in the house.”

I swallow hard, trying not to cry.

I swallow her words and fight the sting in my eyes. This place, the light in her face, and the quiet truth that she’s willing to dream again... It all scrapes against my throat.

“When I asked what you wanted to do today, my only goal was to give you a nice time,” I say, brushing my hand over her cheek. “But I think we got way more than that.”

“It’s the best day of my life, Anthony Fortin,” Alexandra shouts, throwing herself into my arms, making me blush. “What can I do to make you as happy as I am right now? Tell me, I’d do anything.” She smiles, happy and unaware of the effect those words have on me.

My heart stumbles, because there isn’t much to say.

I hold her face in both hands, her skin cool and soft under my fingers. She tilts her chin up slowly, lips parted, hereyes carrying the same spark of longing they did that first time. I lean in, and she rises on tiptoe, just as breathless as I am. Her fingers graze the back of my neck, pulling me closer, telling me she knows the answer, and she wants this too.

Her breath mingles with mine, lips just a breath apart. But the crowd around us reminds me that, even if itfeelslike we’re the only two people on Earth, we’re not. And one photo – just one – could turn this entire day into a nightmare that I can’t protect her from.

So I lower her head and press my lips to her forehead.

“You’ve already done everything,” I murmur, holding her close. “You already make me happy enough.”

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