Page 96 of One More Made Up Love Song
In another hour, this field will be full of fireflies dancing among the redbud trees. It’ll be beautiful, almost magical, soif we have to walk around this field until then, you won’t hear me complain.
“I paid off their house,” Freddie says. “Bought them a car. And put enough money into an account that they could’ve retired right then if they’d wanted to.”
I reach over and slip my arm through his. “What did they say? Surely they were grateful.”
He lets out a little chuckle. “They definitely were. They said thank you. But then I suggested they use the money to travel. To come see me perform if they want or, I don’t know, go literally anywhere in the world that isn’t inside the fifty square miles outside their neighborhood. And you know what my mother said?”
“Tell me,” I say softly.
“She reached over and squeezed my hand before saying, ‘Thank you, dear. But our life isn’t small because it has to be. It’s small because wewantit to be.’”
“Wow,” I say. “You really aren’t anything like them.”
Freddie lets out a humorless laugh. “I’m definitely more my grandfather’s son than either of my parents. The point is, I’ve thought about that a lot over the years. About not wanting a small life. And I thought the only way I could do that was to have the opposite. So I chased it. Fame. Fortune. Stadiums full of fans who were only there because of me. I built a really big life.” He shakes his head and lets out a little chuckle. “Because I was so afraid to wind up like them. To besmall.”
“I don’t think that’s a bad thing, Freddie.”
“Maybe not. Trouble is, it wasn’t making me happy. That’s why I couldn’t write. Because everything felt hollow. Big and meaningless? That’s not a better option.”
I resist the urge to tell him that nothing about his life ismeaningless. But I can only offer him words, and I don’t want them to seem like empty platitudes when they contradict howhefeels.
So I just wait. I wait and listen and let him talk.
“So I’ve been thinking lately that maybe it isn’t about living big or living small. It’s more about living with people where you belong. I’ve never felt that with my parents. Not ever. So I think I was chasing what I thought I needed. A big, important, impressive life. But I don’t think it has anything to do with that. I think I just want to belong somewhere.” He lifts his shoulders into a shrug and offers me a sheepish grin. “Is it too soon to say I feel like I belong here?”
He reaches out and takes my hand, rubbing his thumb across the back of my palm. “Here with your family because I really liked naming one of your mom’s donkeys. And I could talk to your dad about trees all day. And after the car ride today, I’ve even developed an appreciation for Carina’s taste in music.”
I laugh at this and roll my eyes. “Please don’t ever let her hear you say that.”
“I also mean here withyou,” he says, his lips lifting into a tiny grin. “Because I really liked kissing you at the swimming hole.” He tugs me forward and lifts my hand, pressing it against his chest just over his heart. “But I also meanherewith you. Because I’m not sure belonging is a place so much as it’s a person. I’m pretty sure I can feel at home anywhere, as long as I’m with you.”
I close my eyes, breath caught in my throat as I replay his words over and over. As long as he’s with me.Me.
I have loved Freddie from a distance for so long, agonized over my feelings, willed myself to get over him, to just freaking move on.
But I couldn’t quit him. No matter how hard I tried, I could never shake the hope that somehow, some way, he would eventually see me like I see him.
And now we’re here.
Standing in the middle of a field full of redbud trees, and he’s telling me I’m hishome.
I open my eyes to see him searching my gaze, hope clear in his expression.
“Freddie, are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?” I ask, not even trying to hide the tremble in my voice.
He offers me a sheepish, lopsided smile. “That I’m in love with you?” he asks, and all the air whooshes out of my lungs. “Yeah,” he says softly. “That’s what I’m telling you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Ivy
Over the past five years,I have imagined Freddie Ridgefield telling me he loves me countless times. What did not happen inanyof those fantasy versions of our declarations of love was my dad showing up right in time to spoil the moment.
But that’s what’s happening now.
Freddie said I’m in love with you.
Then I said nothing.
