Page 87 of Stuck with my Guarded MVP
Star maps. Constellations. A beginner’s guide.
The air slipped out of me.
My fingers grazed the edge of the top book, the paper cool against my skin.
A memory shoved itself forward. The day we met. I’d stepped onto this balcony and asked about the stars. I could still hear myself saying it, teasing about constellations, NASA, my nieces. I could still see the baffled way he’d admitted he didn’t even know where to find the North Star.
He’d remembered.
I blinked hard, eyes tracing the spines again. Not one book. Two.
For him and… for me.
My pulse thudded low, uneven. I pressed my palm flat on the cover, steadying it, steadying myself. The skyline stretched wide in front of me, glass catching the last of the sun, but all I could see was him. A man who cooked when he didn’t have to. Who bought chairs so I’d sit beside him. Who tracked down booksbecause of one throwaway comment I hadn’t even thought he’d heard.
This went past courtesy. Past kindness.
And maybe Brooke was right. Maybe I was the only one refusing to look.
I pulled one book closer, thumb brushing over the title.
And smiled.
I pushed out of the chair, the night air clinging to my skin, and slid the door open just enough to step inside. A notepad sat on the counter. I tore off a sheet, grabbed a pen, and carried them back out to the balcony and sat in the chair Liam bought for me.
I twirled the pen once between my fingers, then tapped the end against my lips. The page stayed blank, waiting.
“I got it.”
This constellation is my favorite to find. I’m available for star-gazing tours.
I wrote the words small, careful, then stared at them until the ink dried. My fingers hesitated at the edge of the page before sliding it into the book, right where the constellation maps began. I pressed it flat, my palm lingering against the cover.
I let my hand drift over the armrest, tracing the smooth wood. He’d thought of me when he bought it. Just like the risottos, thebasil, the way he bought me four types of milk. He’d made space for me here.
And what had I done? Counted down the days until I could leave. Boxed up sweaters like they were armor.
My chest tightened. I wanted more than his cooking lessons. I wanted to return the gift, show him the sky the way he’d shown me the kitchen. To point out Orion, Cassiopeia, the twins arcing overhead. To sit in this chair, beside him, while the city hummed below and his hand held mine.
I closed the book gently, my thumb brushing over the cover before I set it back on the table. The note was there now, tucked inside. A piece of me I couldn’t pack away.
All I Heard
Liam
The rink doors swung shut behind me. The cold bit at my ears. I yanked my hoodie over my head, my breath already clouding in front of me.
Go home. Just go home.
Home. Where she’s sitting in her room, scrolling through apartment listings. Apartments that don’t have me in them. I slowed at the curb, glanced down the block, and turned the other way. Toward the market.
Risotto. Lemon and asparagus. Something new.If she sat at the counter again, arms crossed, throwing out opinions while I stirred, maybe it’d feel like us again.
OK, Callahan. Get it together. Dinner can’t just be dinner. She has to know.
The automatic doors whooshed open, and I grabbed a cart. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. I pushed down the produce aisle, straight toward the bundles of asparagus stacked in neat rows.
I picked one up, checked the stems. Too thick. Grabbed another. My jaw worked as I muttered, low enough that no one could hear. “Just ask if she’s found a place yet.”
