She turns, composing her features into a polite smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Cal. I wasn't sure you'd come."
"I said I would."
"You said you'd try." She straightens a book that's already perfectly aligned. "The children loved everything. Especially the fairy doors."
"I saw." I shift uncomfortably, words failing me as usual when I need them most. "Molly, about yesterday?—"
"You don't owe me an explanation," she interrupts, her voice carefully neutral. "We had a professional collaboration, and now it's complete. The reading nook is everything it needed to be."
The distance in her tone cuts deeper than any angry outburst could have. I've done this—turned her warmth to careful politeness, her openness to guarded courtesy.
"That's not—" I stop, frustrated with my inability to express what I'm feeling. "I didn't handle things well yesterday."
"It's fine, Cal. Really." She finally meets my eyes, and the hurt she's trying to hide is plain to see. "We all have off days."
"It wasn't just an off day." I take a deep breath. "Harold's comments hit a nerve because they echoed my own doubts. Not about the reading nook, but about... me. About whether what I create is enough. WhetherI'menough."
Surprise flickers across her face, followed by a softening around her eyes. "Cal..."
"I've spent most of my life feeling like I don't quite fit—too quiet, too serious, too focused on details others don't notice or care about." The words come with difficulty, each one dragged from a place I rarely examine. "When you get used to being not enough, you start to expect it. To see it even when it isn't there."
Molly's careful mask slips, genuine concern replacing her polite distance. "The reading nook is perfect, Cal. More than enough. You have to see that after today."
"I'm starting to." I reach into my pocket, fingers closing around the small wooden token. "But it's not about the nook. It's about what happened between us."
She looks away, a flush rising to her cheeks. "Nothing happened between us."
"Something was starting to," I correct gently. "Something I ruined by pulling away when I got scared."
Her eyes return to mine, wary but with a flicker of hope. "Scared of what?"
"Of not being what you need. Of being another disappointment." I withdraw the token from my pocket, holding it out to her. "Of feeling too much for someone who deserves more than I know how to give."
Molly looks down at the small wooden heart in my palm, carved from cherry wood with delicate precision. A tiny book is inlaid in its center, open as if mid-story.
"You made this?" she whispers.
"Last night. Words don't come easily to me, but..." I shrug, feeling exposed. "This is the language I know."
She takes the heart carefully, running her fingertip over the inlaid book. "It's beautiful."
"It's an apology. And a promise." I take another deep breath. "I can't guarantee I won't doubt myself again or that I'll always find the right words. But I can promise to try. To not walk away when things get hard."
Molly looks up from the wooden heart, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "That's all any of us can do, Cal. Try. Be honest. Stay even when it's scary."
"I want to stay, Molly." The admission feels like stepping off a cliff, terrifying and exhilaratingat once. "If you'll let me."
For a long moment, she studies my face, searching for something. Whatever she sees must reassure her, because the wariness in her eyes gives way to warmth.
"I'm not always easy to be around," she says softly. "I talk too much, feel too deeply, get excited about things other people think are silly."
"I know." I risk a small smile. "It's one of my favorite things about you."
A tear escapes, tracking down her cheek. "And you're quiet and thoughtful and sometimes hard to read. But when you do share what you're thinking..." She closes her fingers around the wooden heart. "It's worth the wait."
We stand there, the bustling library fading into background noise, the distance between us both physical and emotional. I want to reach for her, to bridge the gap I created, but I'm not sure I've earned that right yet.
Molly makes the decision for me, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around my waist, her head resting against my chest. After a moment of surprise, I return the embrace, holding her close, breathing in the floral scent of her hair.
