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“No peeking.” I chuckled.
“My eyes are closed. No peeking. You’re just lucky I don't get car sick.”
“I thought of that. I have motion-sickness tablets just in case.”
“Man, you’re creepy,” she muttered. “Where are we going?”
“If I told you there will be no use of the blindfold, now would there? Just trust me.” I reached my hand over the middle console and picked up her hand in mine. Madeline shuttered at first, not expecting the touch, but then her hand settled, as if it had always belonged there.
I took a few unnecessary turns, throwing her off the scent of where we were headed. Both Madeline and I grew up in Portland. We knew it like the back of hands, but add an extra turn in here or there, hoping she may be lost or think we are somewhere totally else entirely. My plan was to give her the day no one else had ever given her, making sure that the drives that were involved were worth it. Madeline deserved this, and I hoped this would show her that.
Once we arrived, I parked the car and killed the engine. I rested my elbow on the console, watching Madeline as she turned her blindfolded eyes to me.
“Can I take this silly thing off now?”
I gently touched her chin with my finger and thumb. “Yeah, you can take it off.”
She inhaled and reached behind her head, slowly removing the blindfold. She blinked a few times and then looked out her window, a sudden smile lighting up where there was once confusion.
“Powell’s?” she said with happiness in her voice. Her absolutely favorite place in Portland, Powell’s Books. “You know I can pretty much walk here, right?” She pointed her thumb toward the bookstore’s entrance.
“There’s a catch this time.” I raised my finger. She bit her bottom lip and raised her eyebrows, leaning forward on the console. “You can pick whatever three…three…books you want, and I won’t question it. I’ll buy it. Three books.”
Her jaw dropped, and I instantly knew her mind went to that vintage section she never stepped foot in.
“Any three books…I can get them?”
I nodded. “Any three books.”
With that last statement, she turned and dashed out of the truck, not even waiting for me to escort her into the building. I laughed, locking the truck and followed her, trying not to lose her amongst all the books. She made her way to the romance section first, picking up a few Emily Henry books I knew she only had ebooks for, and then she ever so slightly turned to me.
“How long do I have to shop?” she asked, holding the two books to her chest as if they were gold.
I glanced at my watch. “In order to keep on time with things…you have ninety minutes.”
Madeline smiled again and turned back to the romances.
“You don’t have to stick in this section, you know,” I reminded her, coming up behind her shoulder, leaning in so my cheek was almost touching hers. I could feel her hair brush against my skin, and I could smell her strawberry lotion.
She leaned her body to look at me over her shoulder. “Iwillbe going to the classic and vintage section, just to let you know,” she spoke softly, almost in a teasing way.
“And I will follow you.” I grinned, thinking to myself I would follow her anywhere.
Eighty-seven minutes later, Madeline stood at the front entrance of the large bookstore, using a display table to look at the six books that lay in front of her. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and her eyes moved quickly, going from book to book.
“What do you have?” I said, shifting my focus from the comic I was holding to the books on the table.
“I haveBeach Readby Emily Henry, a fantastic book.” She smiled as she pointed to the yellow cover. “It was a ‘Book of the Month’ selection, you know.”
I nodded at her, knowing very well what books had made Book of The Month. It wasn’t the first of the month without her sending me her choice.
“I haveThe Unhoneymoonersby Christina Lauren. Did you know—”
“That Christina and Lauren are best friends who write together? Yup, you’ve told me.” I held back a chuckle. She was too cute when she was spouting off book facts to me. Facts that I have heard so many times. I knew more about authors and books than the internet with how much Madeline had told me throughout the years. I would hand her the new Victoria Schade book, and she would say, “Did you know she is a dog trainer, and her first books were training guides?” and I would say it with her.
“I haveThis Time Next YearandJust Haven't Met You Yetby Sophie Coulsen.” She pointed at the two books, keeping her eyes off me.
“That's four books…” I muttered.
