My dad stretches his arm toward me to hold my other hand. “We always expected one or both of you would have difficult feelings around your adoption. We know that even if we did everything perfectly right—which, let’s be honest, we didn’t, because it’s impossible to be perfect—adoption is still traumatic.”
“We knew loving you with our whole hearts wouldn’t be enough,” my mom continues, “as much as we wanted it to be.”
“But, Gage, I want to make something perfectly clear right now. Your existence is not, and never has been, a burden; it’s a joy. For me and your mom, but for Maggie, too.”
“It’s been a joy to be your parents,” my mom reiterates.
Like when I talked to Maggie back in July, I feel a weight lift from my shoulders. I know I still have feelings to work through before I can really move past the damage of my adoption—feelings that will probably be around to some degree for the rest of my life—but having everything out in the open now helps me understand that I don’t have to work through those feelings alone.
By mid-October and our third counseling session, Olivia and I are sharing honestly about our feelings even when we’re not with Dr. Francine.
So, when Olivia texts me that she’s planning a special date night for us this weekend after I’m done with midterms, I’m not surprised.
Now that Olivia understands my struggles better, her mission is to show me how committed she is to our relationship. And I do feel more secure in her feelings toward me, but even better, I’m starting to become more successful coping with my fears.
She picks me up for our date on Saturday and drives downtown. When she parks near Lady Bird Lake, I start to get an inkling of what she has planned.
When she starts to get out of the car, I stop her.
“I talked to Maggie today,” I say.
Olivia tilts her head. “Yeah?”
I swallow down my nerves. “Yeah. Annie and our mom and dad and I are going to spend Christmas with Maggie and her family in Fort Worth this year.”
Olivia smiles. “I love that. You’ll have so much fun.”
I run a hand down the side of her arm. “Would you … would you consider coming with us?”
Her mouth pops open, then shifts quickly into a wide grin. “Yes,” she breathes out. “I want to be wherever you are.”
Visions of our future together parade through my head. Christmases and mistletoe kisses, eventually a wedding and a family. It’s everything I want.
I shake my head to return to the present. We get out of the car and rent kayaks, and now I’m reveling in the memories of our past—our second date back in high school. As I expected, we paddle to the Congress Avenue Bridge, like we did back then.
At sunset, the first of the Mexican free-tailed bats who make their home under the bridge emerge, then more and more until they form a rolling dark cloud silhouetted against the orange sky.
We’re quiet as we watch them, holding hands the best we can with our kayaks bobbing on the water. I remember the hope and awe and anticipation I felt watching this same scene when I was an eighteen-year-old kid in love with one of my best friends. I’m overwhelmed with similar feelings flooding my senses now.
If I’m right, Olivia has a picnic planned next, where she’s packed our favorite foods. Then, we’ll lie on the blanket and watch the stars. And then … well, maybe history will repeat itself.
But I don’t want to spoil the surprise, so I’m quiet as we paddle back to the rental shop. I grin at her when she pulls a picnic basket and blanket from the trunk of her car. I help her spread the blanket on a grassy hill in the park between Riverside Drive and the Colorado River. I talk and laugh with her as we eat our favorite foods.
By the time she lies back on the blanket and tugs me down next to her, my heart is pounding. Olivia rests her head on my shoulder, and I run my fingers through her hair as we search for constellations.
“Gage,” Olivia whispers, and I lift myself up on one elbow so I can look into her eyes. “I’ve never felt as close to anyone as I do with you. I love you.”
I bring my free hand around to cup her cheek. “I love you, Olivia.”
She bites her bottom lip and shifts closer as her gaze drops to my mouth. When she meets my eyes again, I hope she can read the question in them. She nods, her lips stretching into a soft smile.
I’m eager to taste her again, but I don’t rush. Olivia is my everything, and this kiss will be one of the many I plan to give her every day for the rest of our lives.
I stroke my thumb gently across her cheek, and her breath hitches. I lean in, hovering above her, drinking in the way Olivia looks bathed in starlight.
“Gage,” she whispers again, so quietly I slant closer to hear.
“Yeah?” My voice is as strangled as the last shred of my self-control.
