scooter’s motor and removed the pink unicorn helmet. “You’re ready. You can do it, Simon.”
“Do you think so?” he asked, his cheeks going from pink to white.
“I know you can,” she replied, squeezing his hand.
“Simon!” came Talya’s voice as she ran toward them with a sour-faced girl running behind.
“Can I get my scooter back, lady?” the girl, who couldn’t be much more than ten, asked with a pinched expression.
“Sorry, Miss Jensen! This girl recognized me from volunteering in the bookshop and asked if I’d help her get her scooter back.”
“Thanks for letting me use it,” Georgie said, handing over the helmet.
“You didn’t ask. You grabbed my helmet off the sidewalk, strapped it on your head, and then told me you’d give me a whole tube of cookie dough if I let you ride my scooter,” the kid shot back, not amused.
“It was important for me to catch up with these guys, but I didn’t give you much choice, did I?” Georgie replied with a nervous chuckle.
The girl grabbed her scooter. “I know you’re the bookshop lady, and you better believe I’ll be coming for your cookie dough.”
“Don’t you worry. It’ll be there for you,” Georgie answered.
The girl made one of those I’ll-be-watching-you gestures then kick-started the little scooter like a member of the fifth-grade version of Hells Angels and sped off down the street.
Jordan stared in awe at his scooter-swiping fiancée—well, hopefully still his fiancée. But before he could say anything, Talya clapped her hands excitedly.
“It’s sonnet time! Are you ready?” she asked Simon.
The kid nodded. “I’ve never been more ready in my life.”
“You’re going to be so epic,” she cooed.
“It’s totally epic that you’re here,” Simon replied.
Jordan cleared his throat, cutting through the epic amount of teen hormones. “It would be really epic if you won the race and aced the sonnet. You should get to it.”
“Right!” Simon answered, snapping back.
Talya and Simon jogged over to the table staffed with retired teachers, and Jordan exhaled a shaky breath as Simon’s voice carried over to them.
Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments.
“He sounds good,” Georgie said with a nod toward the teen.
Jordan watched as she wiped a tear from her cheek. Was she just emotional to see Simon win and complete the recitation, or was it more?
And what the hell was he supposed to say?
I’m sorry?
Please, don’t say it’s over?
I’ve been carrying around your dryer lint for weeks?
No, none of it was right. None of that got to the heart of what he wanted to convey.
Simon’s voice grew louder.
Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove…
Simon’s recitation of Shakespeare’s sonnet on the definition of love was the answer.
He took Georgie’s hands into his, listening as the teen continued.
Oh, no! It is an ever-fixed mark.
Mark! It was a sign. This was what he needed to say to the woman he loved. He stared into Georgie’s eyes as Simon continued.
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
it is the star to every wandering bark,
whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
within his bending sickle’s compass come…
“What are you doing?” Georgie whispered, her gaze bouncing between him and Simon.
“Can I join in, Simon?” he called to the teen.
Simon glanced over his shoulder. “Sure thing, Mr. Marks!”
Georgie frowned. “What’s going on, Jordan?”
He swallowed hard, then joined the teen. “Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved,” he whispered softly, finishing the sonnet along with Simon.
“Jordan, I’m so—” she began, but he stopped her.
“Wait! Give me a chance to explain. Shakespeare is right about love. Real love is constant. It doesn’t stop when things get tough. And we love each other, Georgie. We’ve known it from the beginning. We’re supposed to be together. Our love is meant to last.” He reached into his pocket and held out the lint. “I’ve kept this with me the whole time. Smell it. It’s not the lint I just pulled off your hoodie. It’s the lemon verbena-scented lint I took before I left.”
“You’ve been carrying around the dryer lint?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yes, because it reminded me of you.”
She stared at the bluish-gray fibers. “This reminded you of me?”
Dammit! This was not going the way he wanted!
“Yes, but it also reminded me I was a fool to freak out about it at wilderness