“Oh. Yeah, everything’s fine,” I say. “You should go back to sleep.”
Wren scoots herself up on the couch so she’s sitting and reaches for the Gatorade bottle next to her.
“I’m feeling a little bit better. I don’t think I got it as bad as you did. I’m just really thirsty.” She takes a big gulp of the juice before I reach out for the bottle.
“Careful, Miller. Small sips right now.” She nods, sets it down, and then she looks at me, her dark eyes searching, silently interrogating.
“Who texted you? You looked concerned.”
“It was Shelley,” I say, keeping my explanation short and vague. But Wren’s eyes go wide, and she sits up straight.
“Oh my God, today was the breaking ground ceremony.” She smacks her forehead. “I completely forgot. When does it start?”
“Six o’clock … but we’re not going, Wren. You’re too sick still,” I remind her. She’s only had one hour vomit-free, and that’s because she was sleeping. “I don’t need to be there for the ceremony, anyways. Shelley can do the groundbreaking.”
She sits back against the couch, and a look of acceptance crosses her features. And then she’s up, heading towards the bathroom.
I type my response to Shelley while I wait for Wren to return. I’m about to hit send when Wren comes back. She’s dressed in cropped, straight-leg jeans and a dark green T-shirt, hair brushed and falling in waves over her shoulders. She’saccentuated the returning colour on her face with some blush.
“Wren, we’re not—” I protest again, but she cuts me off.
“Nuh-uh. We’re not doing that anymore, Landry. No more unilateral decisions. If we’re a team, then you need to trust me. That goes for me saying I want to prioritize our relationship over my career, and it goes for me saying I want to show up for you at the ceremony today.” Wren squares her shoulders. “We’ve both been too sick to address this, but I’m feeling a bit better now, and I need to get this off my chest.”
I turn so I’m facing where Wren is standing, and gesture for her to sit next to me. This feels like a sitting conversation, but she subtly shakes her head. She’s in her fighting stance, but she’s not fighting with me, she’s fighting for me.
“You think I’m giving up opportunities to pursue my art for you, but I promise you I’m not. If I’ve learned anything over the last couple of months, it’s that I want to figure out what makesmehappy. You helped me remember who I am, who I always was, who I want to be. I don’t care about getting validation from other people that what I’ve decided to do with my life is good enough.” She braces her hands on her hips. “You want us to be a team? Then you need to treat me like an equal player. I’m sick and tired of everyone around me thinking they know what I want, or what’s best for me. If you do that, well, you’re just as bad as my parents.”
I reach out to her and grasp her fingers, tugging her towards me and onto my lap. I twirl the ends of her hair where they rest on her back.
“I’m sorry, Wren,” I say, hoping my voice portrays how sincere I am. “It wasn’t about you. You are somagnificent. You’re so out of my league. I thought it was only a matter of time until you saw it, too.” I broke up with her the first time because I thought I was doing her a service, I thought I knew what was best for her. That’s what I thought I was doing for her now. But it wasn’t. I never considered her feelings at all because it was never about her. It was about me, and my insecurities, my unwillingness to step outside my comfort zone and meet her on her level. And my fear that she would see I was never going to live up to the Miller standard, so it was easier to end it on my own terms, before she could.
“I don’t need you to be perfect, Hudson. I need you to be perfect forme. And you already are. All you need to do is show up.” Wren leans down and places her forehead against mine.
“I can show up,” I whisper. That’s my strength, I just never saw it that way. I can do it for her—I can be there, cheering her on, being the steady force in her life, grounding her when she needs it. I tilt my head up and plant my mouth on her forehead in a tender kiss. She pulls back suddenly, as if remembering something else.
“But you also need to let me show up for you,” she adds. “So, get up. We’re going to the groundbreaking ceremony.”
CHAPTER 43
HUDSON
SIX MONTHS LATER
The groundbreaking ceremonywent off without complication, and after a long six months, the arts centre is finished. While my construction crew has been hard at work, using every stretch of nice weather through the fall and winter to get the place built, Wren and I have been working on our relationship. Tearing down old parts of ourselves that no longer serve us, and rebuilding together, stronger.
She officially moved in with me and gave up her apartment in the city. It meant another trip to the coast to get the rest of her belongings, but it also meant we got to have a do-over of our first trip together.
I’m learning to trust her judgement, and to see the value I bring. Wren is learning to let me be there for her, to take care of her, to cheer her on. She’s still stubborn as a mule, though, and every day there’s some fun little game we play with each other. I love that about us. I hope we never stop playing.
So, after a long winter, the spring sun is shining, the air is sweet, and birds chirp happily as Wren and I make our way through the streets of Heartwood towards the arts centre.
There’s already a crowd gathered in the parking lot as Wren and I cross the street and approach the celebration. The smell of barbecued burgers and hot dogs wafts through the air from the tent where Grady is grilling, and on the opposite side of the street, a band made up of what looks to be middle-aged men, and Grady’s friend Finn, is playing old school rock.
I knew Spencer was planning an event for the grand opening, as the official town event planner. I was cc’d on all the e-mails leading up to today, but I had no idea she was planning something like this.
I twine my fingers through Wren’s and turn to face her, stopping short of where the block is barricaded off for the party.
“Are you sure you’re okay to be here?” I ask her, searching her face for any signs of anxiety, or worse, an impending panic attack. “I know designing the arts centre meant a lot to you and this might be hard.” Wren’s face is soft and open. No signs of distress. She started seeing a therapist shortly after the groundbreaking ceremony. Even though her anxiety was getting better after quitting her job, she still had a long way to go working through her long-held beliefs and the conditioning that she’s not good enough.
