Getting Schooled (Getting Some #1)(64)

“I couldn’t shake it, Garrett. I tried, but I couldn’t let it go. It was with me all the time.” I grasp his wrists, holding on to him. “And we were so lucky—both of us . . . we didn’t even know how lucky we were. We had everything—we were healthy and smart and beautiful, with amazing families and friends who loved us. We were blessed. And it was the first time that something bad had happened. Out of our control. And I couldn’t let it go . . . it turned everything upside down.

“And then, when my mom brought up going away to school, when I looked at the pictures and the sunshine and the buildings and so many different faces, it felt . . . better. Like I could do anything, be anyone. I didn’t have to remember how much it hurt, or be afraid of losing you because I could be someone new, someone stronger . . . a fresh start.”

My chest shudders and my voice breaks. “And I had to go. I had to go, Garrett.”

He strokes my cheek, his voice aching.

“I know. I know you did.”

“But it was never about not loving you. Not for a day . . . not for a minute.”

Garrett pulls me against him, hugging me, holding me, rubbing my back. And I feel relieved, lighter in his arms, to have gotten it all out. After all this time.

Then Garrett presses his lips against my hair and rips off his own scab.

“I bought you a ring.”

I feel my face pale. And I step back, looking up at him.

“What?”

“Remember when I sold my Joe Namath football?”

“You said you were going to buy a new computer for school.”

He nods. “I sold it to buy you a ring.” He looks into my eyes. “Because I wanted the baby too. And you. I wanted all of it, Callie.”

He takes a step away from me, his voice rough, weighted down with memories. “I carried it around in my pocket, waiting for the right time to ask. I didn’t want you to think it was because of the baby—I mean it was because of the baby, the timing of it—but it wasn’t just because of that.”

I nod, staring at him.

“And . . . after . . . I didn’t want you to think I was asking because we’d lost it.” He shakes his head. “There was never a good time. I hesitated. And then . . . you were gone. And it was too late. And I still had that ring in my pocket.”

I wipe my face and push a hand through my hair, and focus on something simple.

“What . . . did it look like?”

“Do you want to see it?”

The air rushes from my lungs.

“You still have it?”

The corner of Garrett’s mouth inches up and he looks down at the floor.

“Yeah.”

He waves his hand for me to follow, and we go upstairs to the spare bedroom. He goes to the closet, shifting boxes around, then takes one down from a shelf in the back. Inside, there are pictures of the two of us, cards and notes . . . the dried, brown-edged boutonniere I pinned to his tuxedo the night of our prom.

Then he’s holding a box—small, black leather, with “Zinke Jewelers” embossed in gold.

Slowly, he flicks open the box, and holds it out me. And inside is a tiny, round diamond with a silver band. There are smaller gem chips embedded in the band—all the way around. Light-blue aquamarine and violet alexandrite—our birthstones.

One hand covers my mouth, and my other hand trembles as I take the box from him—my vision blurring with fresh tears as I stare.

“I used to wonder,” Garrett says softly, “if you would’ve liked it. If you would’ve thought I was crazy.” I feel the warmth of his eyes drifting over me, searching. “If you would’ve said yes.”

I inhale a shaky breath.

“I would’ve loved it. I would’ve thought you were crazy.” My voice cracks. “And I absolutely . . . would’ve said yes.”

I put a hand over my face as it crumples, and I cry. For all our years, our sorrows, and our joys. And I cry with a sweet, piercing relief . . . that somehow we found our way back to each other again.

Garrett’s strong arms come around me, pulling me close and safe into his chest. I press my face to him and twist my hands in his shirt . . . holding on to him with everything I have.

“We’re going to be all right this time, Callie. I promise. I swear.”



~



Later that night, Garrett and I lay bare beneath the blankets in his bed—him on his back, my cheek on his chest. Snoopy’s curled up down near our feet and it’s quiet and dark . . . and there are no more tears.

Garrett skims his hand down my spine, and his deep voice splits the silence.

“In the spirit of complete honesty, there’s one more thing I have to tell you.”

I lift up on my arm, so I can see him. “Okay.”

He looks deep into my eyes. “Our entire relationship was based on a lie.”

I squint at him. “What?”

Garrett looks up at the ceiling, smiling.

“Remember when I asked you to borrow a quarter, for a soda from the vending machine?”

“Yeah . . . ?”

Garrett’s thumb strokes my cheek. “I had like ten bucks in change in my pocket. I just wanted a reason to talk to you.”

A laugh bubbles from my lips. And I kiss his warm skin, right over his heart.