Love wins

Chapter 2

The next morning I wake up with a twinge of melancholy in my chest. It was a combination of both excitement and sadness.

I would only have to wait until the evening to see Steven again, yet I find myself impatient for the hours to pass. The shop has more customers than usual, with the wedding in the evening they all seem to be in a haste.

Few stop to chatter about their expectations and the gifts they are bringing the bride and groom, making me promise not to tell anyone. At lunch I wait at the empty door, jumping at every shadow that passes by the street in front of the store, thinking it is him.

Just a few hours more. As the sun begins sinking, the number of people coming in decreases until I am the only one and I wait in silence.

When Steven walks in, I resist the urge to jump on him and tackle him in a hug. I resist the urge to tell him I missed him because I can't. He is leaving tomorrow; I remind myself. Today evening is all we have.

"Good evening Mia," He smiles, the face I have been dying to see all day, "shall we proceed?"

He extends his elbow, which I take after closing the shop. "We shall." I reply, feeling more gleeful by the minute, "where are we off to?"

The night air hits us, and for once I welcome the breeze. Because with his warmth beside me and the short time we have, every second together feels magical.

"Just walk along," he says, and the excited gleam in his eyes was all I needed to comply.

"So Steven?" I ask, as we pass by my house, "Have you at least informed your poor friend you won't be attending his wedding?"

"I had to, unfortunately," he replies, holding me closer. "I swear he wanted to kill me. And I deserved it. We have been talking about it for months and he begged me to fly all the way down here to be his best man. And now I am not even attending the wedding,"

"For me..." I say. It's a question, an accusation and a doubt all at the same time.

He nods slowly. "Yeah. I am not a spontaneous person, usually, neither do I like to lie. But you somehow seemed to be an exception to every limit I have."

"So why yesterday?" I ask, the question preying on me all day, "You could have arrived at my door two days earlier. We could have those two days as well."

He pondered over that for a minute. "I did pass by your shop each day. My friend he dragged me all across town, and his fiancée she told me, when we passed your house, that that's where you live,"

"You didn't answer my question," I say, noticing we are exiting the town when we pass the welcome to Blemich sign.

"Because I don't the answer," he admits, suddenly interested in his feet, "I liked the moment you left me at the florists without saying a word. I also felt kind of bad for seeing you walk back glumly."

"Is that why I am here?" I ask, pulling my arm from his and pointing at the foliage around us.

"No," he answers, taking my hand in his, "for the record I hoped you wouldn't go. I could have asked you to stay, and I regret not doing it."

"I hope you're not lying to me again," I mutter, resting my head against his shoulder.

"Why would I abandon my best friend, just to spend one evening with you? I promise Mia, I am not lying," he kisses the top of my head, and the air doesn't feel that chilly anymore, "I just want to make the most of this one evening."

We stopped walking a good two miles outside town and I realized what he had planned.

Beautiful is all I could use to describe the place. The pale crescent moon shone like a silvery claw in the night sky, cascading a warm glow over a swing set tied to the branches of an olla tree. In this nightfall, I imagine the stars as autumn leaves, fluttering in a heaven-spun wind.