Page 107 of Silver Linings
I smile softly at him. “I’d rather you tell me how you broke into my store and what you’ve been doing in here.”
“I didn’t break in,” he says, abashed as he rubs the back of his neck. “I called Kena, who got me in contact with Holly, who let me in last night.”
“Kena knew you were here?”
He nods in confirmation. I guess that explains my best friend’s vehemence earlier this morning. The whole time, he knew Hendrix was here waiting for me.
“I wanted to do a grand gesture to apologize for missing the store reopening and enlisted the help of Sam and Jae so we couldfinish on time. The staircase and the second floor landing are safe to use. I was just finishing up the staining so it matched the floors when you came in.”
I reach out and grab his face, stroking my thumb back and forth across his cheekbones, amazed, but not surprised that he would do this for me. He’s been showing me from the very beginning, waiting for me to catch up, and I’m finally starting to believe that I’m worth it. He is the lighthouse guiding my ship home, because that’s what I feel when I’m with him—I’m home.
“Where did you get all the supplies to do this overnight?” I redirect.
“I may have had Sam call every hardware store in a twenty mile radius until I got all the materials I’d need.”
“Can I go up and see it?” I whisper in a way that belies my excitement.
He grabs my hand and pulls me towards the stairs, tugging me once we reach the base, as if he can sense my reluctance to climb them. “Come on, Sunshine. I promise it’s safe. I won’t let anything hurt you.”
And he’s right. Not a single step creaks or moves beneath my step. They’ve all been rebuilt with structural integrity that feels poetic on a personal level. Somehow, the stairs were a metaphor for how I felt inside—broken and unusable. But this store, this new direction I have in life, is the renovated version of me. When we’ve reached the top, my eyes line with tears for what feels like the hundredth time today.
I never realized how lovely it could be up here. It’s only about a third of the size as the lower level and hangs over the back section of the store. The low ceilings up here lend to its cozy feeling, and I note Hendrix installed sconces along the wall to bring a warmth to the space.
“It’s perfect.” I choke slightly on the words, unable to express my gratitude. “Thank you.”
Hendrix comes up to me then, wrapping his arms around my waist, turning me so we’re looking over the banister onto the shop floor. I settle my head back on his shoulder and take in the view from up here, truly appreciating how far the space has come.
How far I’ve come.
“Look at what we built,” I remark.
Hendrix shakes his head. “Look at whatyoubuilt. This was all you, Silver. Your vision, your determination, your dream. You did this all on your own.” He leans down and places a soft kiss to my neck, the scruff of his beard making goosebumps break out over my skin. “I’ve also got some designs I want you to look over.”
“Designs?”
“Yeah, uh…” He’s nervous about something. “I’ve been working on some pieces for up here, small tables and chairs I could build if you liked them. You mentioned wanting to turn this floor into a place where people could come read and write, as well as hosting events up here, and I just thought…” He huffs a breath against the back of my head. “Of course, if you wanted to thrift some furniture instead, the Brooklyn Flea had some coo–”
I cut him off by twisting in his hold, throwing my arms around his neck and crashing my lips to his. His surprise quickly ebbs as his warm lips move against mine slowly. Kissing him is like feeling that first ray of sun after a week of cold rain. I wanted to revel in this warmth forever.
I reluctantly pull back just an inch, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. I gaze into the eyes that have come to feel like home to me and leap. “I love you.”
And then, I burst into tears.
He holds me through it, whispering words of love and affirmation against my head as I feel every vulnerable emotionunder the sun. Fear, happiness, anxiety, hope, joy—they all feel like the heaviest and lightest weight on my shoulders. He never eases his grip on me. He tells me I’ll never be alone as long as he lives, that he loves my courage and resilience, that he loves that I can always find a joke in any situation, that I can’t sing for shit, and that doing menial tasks with me feels like an adventure he wants to go on every day.
When I’m finally done crying, he looks me in the eyes. “I love you too, Sunshine.”
And it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.
Two weeks later…
“You don’t have to read it. You can just throw it away, and no one will blame you.”
Hendrix and I sit on the loveseat upstairs in the bookstore, staring down at the letter my mom left for me. I’ve been looking at the cream envelope for ten minutes already, trying to muster up the courage to open it and see what’s inside.
There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to care, and then there’s a part of me that knows I’ll always wonder if I don’t see what’s inside. It’s the latter that has me reaching for it now.
Hendrix places a steadying hand on my knee to help ease my nerves as I slot the tip of my finger under the corner flap to open the note.
