Page 101 of Love is an Open Book
She smiles. “Bingo.”
My next stop is a visit to Evie. She’s at her day job in the admin building, but I bring her an iced green tea from our favorite café and apologize for not catching her up on all the events of the past few weeks sooner.
“I’ve been thinking about something Gavin said during the trope tests,” I tell her, when she asks how I got to this place of certainty. “How I purposely seek out guys who aren’t my type. And I realized it was because I wanted to keep some of my love in reserve. I was scared to love anyone as much as I love him.”
Leaning back in her desk chair, she frowns. “You’ve been trying to find someone you lovelessthan him?”
“Not consciously, but yeah.” Sounds wild to think about. How could I have not known how much more was waiting for us? “That’s when I realized he’s always been the one for me. I just have to be brave enough to love him with my whole heart.”
“You’re plenty brave,” she says.
“I basically told the man I love that he should stop loving me.”
“Okay, yes.” She taps her highlighter against the edge of the desk. “But you finished the book. All along, you said you couldn’t write it because you didn’t see a way for them to stay together, but I also think you were scared of sharing a story so close to you. Which I get.” She knows better than anyone the vulnerability of sending a book out into the world. “But you did it anyway. For yourself, but also to do right by people you care about. You’re braver than you think. Own it.”
“You’re saying I should go big?” A grand gesture leaves no room for holding back.
“Do it. Make Sydney and Victor proud.”
Sydney and Victor. The idealistic, hopeful parts of myself. I’m ready to start believing again.
I’ve written my fair share of fictional grand gestures, but in real life there are constraints like scheduled flights and press appearances, not to mention contending with the terrifying possibility that this might be the last time you see the person you’re madly in love with.
Now that I’ve realized I’m in love with Gavin, I’m desperate to tell him in a way that matches the magnitude of my feelings. Normally I’d be spending the days before the premiere in full glam mode—hair, mani-pedi, a facial. An appointment with the stylist I treated myself to after landing on a worst-dressed list at my first Hollywood event.
But this time around my top priority isn’t finding the perfect braiding hair or shade of gel polish. I’m in the stationery store, scanning the shelves. This time it’s not procrastination or feeding my notebook habit. Gavin is due back from Wisconsin tomorrow, the day I fly to Los Angeles. A narrow window for a grand gesture, and I barely slept last night arranging the details.
This is the last step, and I want to get it right. A few other customers are in the shop, but no one pays me any attention as I flip through the cards.
Amari walks up in an ink-stained apron, a pen tucked behind her ear. “What are you shopping for today?”
“I need your help with a grand gesture.”
Her entire face lights up with a wide smile. “You’re kidding.” When I shake my head, she says, “Wait, literal or figurative? Like, are we talking for a character or...”
“For real.” I’m counting on her discretion, but I’m also willing to risk the internet finding out I put it all on the line for Gavin. “I’m in love with my best friend.”
I figured this would be boring compared to a potential celeb couple, but she squeals. “Like Sydney and Victor?”
For once, I don’t bristle at the comparison. “Exactly. Except in this case, there’s no happy-ever-after guaranteed.”
She clutches clasped hands to her chest. “Even more romantic. Whoever this is for, I hope they deserve it.”
“He deserves everything, because he’s given me all of himself.”
Her eyes lose the starry look and her lips tug to the side. “That line could use some work. But I’m sure you’ll get it together when you write it.”
Nothing like being humbled by a fan. “Actually, I have,” I tell her, pulling a slip of paper out of my pocket. “Could I put in a rush order for custom calligraphy? I need an invitation.”
“It would be my absolute pleasure. Any chance I could get a mention in the acknowledgments of your next book?”
“You have a deal.” I just hope typing her name won’t be a reminder of the first time I wrote a grand gesture that failed.
Thirty-Four
Gavin
Nothing prepared me for the stress of trying to plan a grand gesture for a woman who wrote the book—books—on how to win back the person you love. Mia’s characters have done everything from standard groveling to lying their way into VIP sections patrolled by grouchy bouncers, and I’ll never be able to measure up to professing my love from outer space or while climbing a sheer cliff.
