Page 39 of The Perfect Love

I also let out a breath of relief. “Yeah. Let’s enjoy where we are right now.”

“Here, surrounded by all this beautiful nature.”

I groan. “I’m not going to live that down, am I?”

He laughs, and God, I love that sound. It’s so rich and warm, like a blanket and some hot cocoa on a chilly day.

“Nope. Your family owns a campground and you’re the marshmallow roasting queen. I want to know more about that, by the way. Do you teach classes? Wander around to campsites and critique people? Oh, is there a marshmallow roasting contest every summer?”

I playfully shove his shoulder. “You’re hilarious. I’ll have you know my grandfather was a stickler for how marshmallows should be roasted, and he taught all the kids in his family about roasting marshmallows. If anyone was going to walk around and critique things, it would’ve been him. But you’re welcome. Because now you know how to flawlessly roast a marshmallow.”

He dips his head. “I bow to the master. I take it he’s not around anymore?”

I shake my head. “No. He died about five years ago, but he lived a long life. He was married four times, but his marriage to my grandmother was the only one that stuck. They were married for forty years. He was twenty years older than her. It was quite the scandal.”

“Wow.”

“Yep.” I nudge his leg with mine. “So tell me something about you. Dirty family secrets or a random fact.”

“I’ll never admit this to any of my friends because they’d be annoying as fuck about it, but I’m a sucker for nostalgic things. Or I guess things that remind me of my childhood. It’s why I loveGooniesandThe Sandlot. Loganberry and Dunkaroos. Things that remind me of the most carefree parts of life. One thing I really love to do is to lie in the grass and watch the clouds. Find shapes in them, whatever. It’s relaxing and makes me feel like a kid again.”

I don’t know what I was expecting when I first met Trevor. Dudebro? Frat guy? I knew almost immediately I was wrong, but I didn’t realizehowwrong I was. Not only is he caring and thoughtful, but underneath his grumpy, grumbly exterior, he’s a sweet, adorable puppy.

He sees the upbeat, playful side of me and wants to bring it out. I see this side of him, and it’s now my goal to bring it out in him as much as possible.

“Then let’s watch the clouds.”

I lie back on the blanket and stare up at the blue sky with big fluffy clouds, partly blocked from view by the willow tree above us. He couldn’t have picked a more picturesque spot for this little picnic. I’m glad he chose to do it despite my stupid lie.

The fluffy clouds float by on the gentle lake breeze as Trevor lies down beside me.

“What do you see?” I ask. Though I’m trying to find any clouds that look like shapes, they mostly look… like clouds.

He sighs and rolls onto his side, pushing up on his elbow. “This is going to sound cheesy and totally like a line, but I swear it’s not. When I stare at the sky all I can think of is the blue of your eyes. They’re captivating. I’ve never seen anything like them before. What are they? Blue hazel?”

I roll to face him, surprised by how close he is. Suddenly, what I notice is his eyes. The nuance in their dark color. From a distance they look almost black, but from here I can see flecks of gold and bronze, like little stars shining in his eyes.

Okay, I’ve been reading too many fantasy books.

“A lot of people call them blue hazel, but it’s technically central heterochromia. One color near the pupil then it shifts to the other at the edge. There can be medical reasons for it, but mine are genetic, or so I’ve heard. Supposedly, my mother’s eyes are similar.”

He lies flat on his back again, but keeps his gaze fixed on me.

“You don’t know your mom?”

I shake my head. “Nope. I was a surprise. She and my dad were young and hadn’t known each other long. She was on the fence about how to handle it, but her parents were pushy. They weren’t okay with any option except her keeping me. My dad always wanted kids, so he promised to support her no matter what, but left the decision up to her. The way my dad put it, my mom tried, but only a few months after I was born, she didn’t want that life. Didn’t want to be a mom. She signed her rights away and left me with my dad. I’ve never seen or heard from her.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. It’s a wild story, but I have no ill will toward her. She didn’t jump in and out of my life or confuse me—didn’t let me be a casualty of her uncertainty. She did what was best for both of us, and I have a lot of respect for that. My dad’s family issuper close, so I grew up with a lot of love. She’s part of the reason I’m an advocate for women’s empowerment and freedom to make choices for themselves. No woman should be forced into a decision like that.”

“That’s so… well adjusted.”

We both laugh at that.

“I had to have at least one area where I have my shit together.”

“Have you ever wanted to see her again?”

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