I nod. She’s right. It’s time for me to go get Miles back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHTTHE LOVE ON LOVE STREET FESTIVAL IS HERE… AND IT’S AMAZING
I have no idea how, but I know that somehow I’m going to get Miles Desai back. Seeing all the work he did for the festival solidifies it for me—Miles hasalwaysbeen a huge romantic and was always willing to see my point of view. But I was too stupidly stubborn to accept it.
Change is inevitable. Neither I, nor any of us here on the street, can preserve this little oasis in the middle of a city that’s evolving. But we’renotpowerless—wedohave the ability to have an impact on what our home evolves into. That’s why he’s obsessed with all those signs—he wants to understand the past in those historical plaques, and he wants to have a say in guiding the city in a way that’s fair for the people who love it. And if that’s not romantic… if that’s not sentimental, then I don’t know what is.
There isn’t only one way to love a person, or to love a place. Real love isn’t meet-cutes and grand gestures—it’s wanting the absolute best for the people and places you care about.
I get it now. And I need to make Miles see that. I rush back to the Cosmic Vintage table. Cara and Sarina are still setting up the accessories and clothes that Jenn picked out for the festival. I go straight to a rolling rack and find a familiar velvet jacket. I run my hands over the soft pile on the lapel.
“I love that piece,” Cara says. “It’s the same one we were drooling over when all those clothes were donated for the prom drive.”
“I know. It was Miles’s. He wore it to his prom.”
Cara’s and Sarina’s eyes both open wide. “Seriously?” Cara asks.
I nod as I take the jacket off the hanger. It’s definitely his—it even smells faintly like him. I slip the jacket on and push the sleeves up to my elbows.
“It looks good on you,” Sarina says. “Red is your color.”
I look in the mirror that Jenn set up in the booth. It does look good on me. Just like Miles was good for me. “I’m buying it,” I say. “I need all your help. I need to show Miles I’m sorry. I thought he didn’t really care about me or this street, but he did all this work for the festival because he wants to make sure the street changes in a way that is fair to the people here.”
“Yeah, maybe he did this for the street,” Sarina says, “but he also did all this foryou.”
Maybe—at least, I hope—he created the romance bookstore for me, but the rest of the festival? He did it for the city. And to make connections. “How do you know it was for me?”
“Um, because he told me?” Sarina says, laughing. “How did younotknow? He wassmitten. Like for a while. Since before High Park. He would have done anything for you.”
I blink. Miles was into me that long? While I was setting him up, he was crushing on me? He told me that he thought I was pretty… but that I annoyed him. “I’ve screwed up everything, haven’t I?”
Cara shakes her head. “No. Tell him what you just told us.”
An idea comes to me. I smile. “Do you think anyone will mind if the love festival chair pours her heart out for her cochair during her thank-you speech?”
Sarina nods. “Yes! Do that! Shoot, I think the gates opened.”
I look over, and there’s a crowd near the entrance. It’s ten o’clock, and the first annual Love on Love Street Festival is officially open to the public. I say a quick good luck and rush to my station in the park.
It’s a bit of a slow start, but the festival soon finds its groove. Thanks to the committee’s outreach, local influencers and a few news crews show up early to interview the organizers and report on the festival. Soon the park is absolutely bustling with people snapping pictures, checking out the vendors, and lining up at the food trucks. Ms. Carothers over at the tree mural has a steady line of people who want to declare their love on the Toronto Love Tree.
The flower heart is a hit too. I’m staying close to it, helping the young volunteers, because pretty much everyone wants to take pictures of themselves in front of the heart for their socials. We make sure there’s an organized line, and I offer to take the pictures of the attendees with their phones. People keep praising the heart (I give away so many Morgan Ashton Flowers brochures), and everyone seems to be having so much fun.
I’ve always loved love, but this? Being the one to help all these people document their love for each other in front of a big floral heart that my mother and I made? It’spriceless. I get why my mother loves to do weddings so much.
Eventually, Julie and Ajit come by. “This is beautiful,” Julie says, looking at the heart. “I trusted you, but I was a little unsure what to expect from this installation. It’sspectacular.”
I smile proudly, then ask how business has been at LoveBug.
“Busy. We sold out of the pink chai already. Charlene had to brew more inside.”
“Yay! Hey, can you help me out with something? I’m going to make a speech at noon on the entertainment stage before the first performance. Can you make sureeveryonefrom the planning committee is there? Like you two, Cara, Jenn, April, Ben, and Miles?”
Ajit frowns. “Sure, why?”
“I want to thank everyone for putting this together. Make sure… especially…”
“That Miles is there?” Julie asks.
