36. Chapter 36

Maggie’s heart slammed hard in her chest and her palms were sweaty and the inside of her cheek was nearly raw from how much she’d been biting it all morning.

She’d slipped out of her childhood bedroom early – even earlier than Alex would wake for her morning run – kissing Alex on the temple lightly, in awe that Alex was here, in Blue Springs, sharing her childhood bed, that somehow her parents were okay with it, that somehow Alex was being taken in by the family in the same way they’d taken to her sister’s boyfriend.

But she was nervous, now, because today? Today, she was taking Alex somewhere she’d never taken anyone. Ever.

And she wasn’t sure Alex Danvers was the type to want a flowery field and a picnic lunch as a date, and she was terrified.

But when Alex padded into the kitchen a couple hours later, her shirt soaked in sweat, mud from her run streaking the backs of her calves, her smile when she saw Maggie packing a picnic basket with all her favorites – Maggie’s Kara Danvers approved eggplant parm sandwiches, that potato salad that always made Alex groan, handfuls of oranges, boxes of bright strawberries, and bottles of beer – her smile made Maggie’s heart leap and her smile made Maggie’s fear melt.

“We picnicking today then, babe?” she asked, slipping her arms around Maggie from behind and kissing the back of her neck, not bothering to care about how sweaty she was: Maggie never cared about that. Maggie liked it.

“Thought I’d show you some place I used to go as a kid a lot, when I needed to uh… get away,” Maggie tried to say casually, but Alex caught the heavy meaning in her voice and Alex pulled her closer and Maggie swooned and Alex grinned and Alex reluctantly left to shower and Alex couldn’t stop smiling while she watched Maggie drive them in her old pickup through fields and dirt roads, one hand on the wheel and one hand on Alex’s thigh.

Alex gasped when she saw where they were going, just as the sun rose over the horizon: an entire field, a hill really, painted with purple bellflowers and brilliant bluebells, spotted with patches of yellow, of green, of white.

“Maggie,” she whispered, and Maggie swallowed hard as she slipped out of the driver’s seat, crossing around the truck to open the door for Alex, to extend a hand to help her down.

To help her off with her shoes, to grab the overloaded picnic basket and blanket she’d loaded into the back of her truck.

She laid her down and she fed her strawberries and she made her laugh and she watched her laugh and she took her picture and she showed her how to string the older flowers together into a crown, into a halo, into something to mark Alex as the angel that she saw whenever she looked at her, whenever she leaned across the blanket to kiss her perfect lips, her nose, her bare shoulder, the back of her neck.

“It’s beautiful,” Alex whispered as she roused herself from a long nap in Maggie’s arms, and when Maggie watched the sun, now setting, reflecting in Alex’s eyes, highlighting the flowers still wreathing her hair, Maggie had to agree.

“Yeah, it is,” she breathed, her eyes forgetting the sky and looking only at the only sight that mattered.