Page 137 of The Warmth of Our Closest Star

“Babe,” he sighed, “I see what you mean. This is a huge moment.”

“Don’t prolong it. I’m dying.”

Peter chuckled and lifted the book from the box. His eyes went wide with wonder and a small gasp escaped his lips. I was dying to see it for myself, but I tried to be patient as Peter held the book in front of himself, staring down at it as though he’d never seen a book before.

“Repainting the Universe,” he whispered with awe. “A novel. By Enzo Barbier.”

“It’s just the proof,” I said, shrugging as a way to convince myself to not lose my mind. “It’s…it’s not finished, I suppose? Not final.”

Peter looked up at me and shook his head.

“Don’t do that,” he said. “This is amazing, babe.”

He turned the book proof in his hands so that I could see the cover. At first sight, the book, with my name on the cover, made my eyes go wide and my breath to catch in my throat. Nothing makes creation more amazing than when you can hold the product in your hands for the first time. It makes what seemed so impossible for so many years a possibility.

“Do you mind, if…” Peter trailed off.

“No,” I said, gesturing emphatically, “please.”

Giddily, Peter began flipping through the book, examining the wrap-around cover, reading select passages, possibly as excited as I was—if not more so. Like me, he was elated to see the product of all of my work in a physical, tangible form. He held my years of work in his hands—it was real. And it was beautiful. Even if it was likely imperfect.

“I am so incredibly proud of you, Enzo,” he said, though he couldn’t pry his eyes from the book as he slowly skimmed through the pages.

Peter had read the book at least twice, kindly offering himself up as an advanced reader as I made my way through the arduous, heartbreaking, and exhilarating journey of writing my first novel. To see that he was still as enamored with it as he was during his first reading made my heart fill for him even more.

I had a book that would be published. But most importantly, I had someone who had always believed that I one day would have a book published. A dream I’d barely had the courage to dream was a reality, and I had my family. What more could I ask for?

“Thank you,” I said.

“You are so fucking impressive,” Peter said. “I’m not kidding.”

“Oh, shut up,” I said, kicking his shin gently under the table.

“I just had to say it,” he chuckled. “I won’t keep making you uncomfortable.”

The minutes ticked by as Peter examined the book, the joy on his face only growing with each page he turned or each sentence he read over carefully. When he finally closed the book and held it out to me over the table, I couldn’t take it. I needed more time to let the moment sink in before I could hold it in my hands. So, Peter laid it on the table between us, turned so that the writing was where I could read it, and we simply stared at each other.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“I don’t know, you know?” We both laughed. “I feel as if I should feel certain things but I’m…scattered. It’s a lot. You know?”

Peter reached over and took my hand, giving it a squeeze as we both simply sat with the moment, letting it be what it was. Finally, I remembered the bag of cherries on the table next to the book, amused at how easily they’d been forgotten by a box being opened. I cocked my head at the bag and squeezed Peter’s hand to make sure I had his attention.

“I got cherries at the store,” I said. “I think I’ll make a clafoutis for dessert tonight.”

“Yum!” Peter exclaimed comically. “You treat me so fiiiiiiiine, babe.”

I laughed at his nonsense and let my hand slip from his. When I rose from the table, Peter frowned up at me. He knew the look on my face. Peter had become familiar with that look over the last six months.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

“To check on—”

Peter cut me off with a shake of his head.

“Noe fell asleep ten minutes before I found you in here.” Peter gestured for me to sit, so, smiling happily, I did. “If you wake him up, we’re going to have words.”

I laughed. “But I missed him all morning.”