Page 97 of Cinnamon Roll Set Up

My heart is in my throat, and it’s hard to swallow. But Sam understands.

“It’s so much more to lose,” I whisper. And because spiralers are gonna spiral, tears start streaming down my face and into my hair. “It’s too much. That kind of love…everything he said in his letters…it will hurt so much worse when it’s gone.”

“Oh, George. Come here.” Sam helps me up and sits down next to me. He hugs me hard, squeezing out more sobs than I thought I had in me. I rest my head on his shoulder and cry it out.

It was so long ago. I can’t still be messed up over my parents splitting up. But I can, and I am.

“Georgia.” His soft, tender voice just makes me cry harder. “That kind of love, the kind you don’t want to lose? That’s the only kind you should ever want. Because that means you’ll both fight for it. Right?”

I nod, a little bit in awe that he can be so frantic sometimes, bouncing from one activity to the next, and yet be so logical and wise sometimes, too. I do not wish to tell him that at this juncture. But it’s true.

“It might shock you to know that I’m not a perfect husband.”

A strangled laugh bubbles out of me. I still sometimes can’t believe this goofball is a husband in the first place.Perfectwas never on the table.

“I make mistakes with Harper. Say the wrong thing or say nothing when I should open up. Do something selfish or thoughtless. But I always work on fixing it because I know she’s the one I want. Today, tomorrow, forever. I’ll never stop coming back and fighting for her. For us.”

I haven’t cried so hard since that teen romance movie where both the main characters die of cancer.

“It’s scary to trust that you’ll both keep fighting for each other. But you have to take that leap sometime.” He shifts to look into my weepy eyes. “Would you catch him if he needed you?”

I sob even harder. “Yes.”

Because the feeling filling me up and wringing me out isn’t just fear. It’s love. I love Miles Forrester so much the realizationis barreling through me like a monster truck. And I think maybe I’ve loved him a lot longer than I ever suspected.

How long has Miles been the person I want to talk to every day? The one I go to with my worries? My celebrations? How long has he been the person whose opinion I seek out first? The person whose gentle affirmations and encouragement mean more than anyone else’s? How long has he been the first thought in my head when I wake up and the last when I go to bed at night?

Years.

“I think I need to go talk to him,” I finally say.

Even though the thought of doing that, of admittinganythingabsolutely terrifies me…the thought of not having Miles in my life anymore is worse. And I don’t just want our friendship. I want it all.

“Sounds like a good idea. But first—what’s this about letters?”

I shake my head. I read through them too many times to count last night, and went to sleep hugging them to my chest like they’re my emotional support letters. It felt wrong to leave them when I came here, but I don’t want to share them with anyone either. I left them underneath my pillow as if they needed protecting. Or just needed to stay tucked safe in my bed.

“I can’t tell you. But they’re…something special.”

He nods. “Sounds like Miles is ‘romance book hero’ material to me.”

I’ve been so ridiculous. I couldn’t see what I had all along.

“He’s better.”

Chapter 31

Miles

Saturday morning at Dogeared is a non-stop crush of people requiring drinks, books, and pastries, all served up in record time. I don’t mind the distraction today. Staying busy keeps my mind off of Georgia.

Actually, that’s an absolute lie. Georgia never leaves my mind. If I were Arlo, I’d have that song play on repeat all morning just to hammer it home.

I want to know how she’s feeling. If she read my letters. I laid my heart bare in those scribbled words, never thinking she would see them. Now that she has, were they too much for her? Too little? She’s not on the schedule today—will she come in anyway like usual? Sit down in a cozy chair and sketch? Give me some hint of how she’s doing? Or will she need more time to process everything?

I’ve always enjoyed Georgia’s impulsivity, but I don’t think she’ll be impulsive about this.

I want to believe I know how she feels, but her expression when I told her I love her haunts me. She was confused, but also almost pleading for me to take my confession back. Like shedidn’t want it to be real. It’s that look on her face that maybe she’d rather I never said anything that sticks with me the most.

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