Mom clears her throat.
Dad chuckles. "They're young and in love. We were worse."
Mom nods true. "Have you discussed marriage?"
"Mom!" Fuck, I know Mom adores Iris, but this is getting ridiculous. She drops hints about marriage nearly every Sunday.
Half of me wants to demand she stop. The other half is too enamored with the way the questions make Iris's cheeks flush and her eyes get dreamy. She thinks about it, about us being forever.
I think about it too. I can see it. The two of us on the beach, under an altar decked with purple flowers, proclaiming our love to the entire world.
Yeah, I think a lot about stripping her out of a tight, low-cut dress (hey, it's my fantasy), pinning her to the wall, and having my way with her.
But I think about the rest of it too. Calling her my wife. Seeing my ring on her finger every morning. Waking up and falling asleep next to her.
We're not ready for that—she's made it very clear she's waiting until she's done with school—but we'll be there. One day.
And after tonight…
"Baby?" Iris runs her fingers over my chin.
"You look gorgeous today. I say that yet?" I ask.
"A thousand times," Bree says. "But it's cute." She turns to Mom. "Aren't they adorable?"
Mom makes the hmmm noise. "Yes. But we're having dessert. Not dessert."
Dad chuckles.
Bree giggles through her words. "Oh my God, Mom. Did you just make a sex joke?"
Mom smiles maybe I did, maybe I didn't, then she's back to her usual all business poker face. "Your generation didn't discover sex."
Bree laughs.
I laugh too. "Feels like it sometimes."
Iris blushes. "I'm sorry, Jen."
Mom beams at Iris calling her by her first name. "It is sweet. But not at the dinner table."
Iris mouths sorry.
Dad chuckles. "Remember that weekend at your parents' place."
Mom turns to him. Her cheeks flush. She leans in to whisper.
Gross. My parents are talking about sex.
She regains her composure. "This is excellent coffee, Walker. Thanks for bringing it over."
"Sure thing," I say.
"Try it the right way." Iris offers her mug again. She raises a brow you okay?
I nod as I accept the cup. My plan for tonight is perfect. But it's getting closer. It's right after we leave. And, fuck, I'm not used to being this nervous.
I sip Iris's coffee. "This is sweeter than the pie." I hand it back.
Her smile spreads over her cheeks. "That's the point."
"Is it?" I ask.
She nods. "Dessert—" she nods to her slice of pumpkin pie, then to her mug—" then more dessert."
Bree laughs. "She's making a lot of sense."
"You always think she's making sense," I say.
"What can I say? Your girlfriend is a smart woman," Bree says.
Iris nods uh-uh. She isn't paying attention to our conversation. Her gaze is on her cell.
That look can only mean one thing.
Lily replied.
Iris tries to pretend like she's okay waiting until her sister is ready to make up. I guess she is okay waiting. It's not like she has a choice.
But I can tell it wears on her.
She ceded the holiday to her sister, because she didn't trust her parents to be honest about whether or not she'd be at dinner.
She spent an hour composing a Happy Thanksgiving text this morning. She's been checking her phone, waiting for a response, all day.
I squeeze her hand. Lean in to whisper. "You okay?"
She nods. "I just need some air." She pulls back. Looks to my family. "Excuse me. Thank you so much for dinner. It was lovely." She grabs her purse and moves to the kitchen, then toward the back door.
Mom, Dad, and Bree shoot me the same look. Are you going to leave her alone with that?
They adore Iris. After everything with Bree, I thought Mom would freak about Iris's past, but she didn't. She only loves her more for it. She's always going on about how proud of Iris she is. About how lucky I am to have such a strong girlfriend.
And, yeah, about how lucky I’d be if Iris was my wife.
I agree.
And I will marry her. One day.
But this, just being with her, is amazing. I want more—I always want more of her—but I can wait until she's ready.
"Thanks for dinner." I push myself up. "I love you."
Everyone says it back.
I move into the kitchen, through the sliding glass door, to the backyard.
Iris is sitting on the edge of the pool, shoes next to her, feet in the water. She turns toward me. Wipes a tear from her eyes.
Fuck. It's bad.
I move closer. "You want me here or you want to be alone?"
She looks up at me. "No. Walker. It's… It's okay."
"Yeah?" I drop to my knees next to her.
She nods as she shows off the display.
Lily: Happy Thanksgiving to you too. See you at Christmas?
Every bit of tension in my body melts. I forget about what I'm doing after this. I forget about every awful thing that's ever happened.
"She forgives me." A tear rolls down her cheek. "Well. Maybe not yet. But enough to talk to me."
I wrap my arms around her.
She leans into my touch. "I never thought she'd forgive me."
"I know."
"I never thought you'd forgive me."
"Me either."
"But you did." She presses her forehead to mine. "And you… You're here."
"Always."
Her fingers dig into my t-shirt, pressing the cotton into my skin. "You promise?"
"Yeah."
"What if I start using again?"
"You won't."
"But what if I do?"
"Sweetness, you know I hate thinking about this."
"I know…" But you have to. It could happen. We have to be realistic.
"I'll make sure you get help." I brush her hair behind her ear.
Iris slipping is my worst nightmare.
At first, it was a plague on my thoughts, this constant fear she'd start getting high again. That I'd be the one to push her into using with some stupid fight.
I still wake up terrified some days. I still have moments where my head goes to dark places because she's too quiet. Or home late. Or evasive. Or moody.
I'll never get over it. Not completely.
But it gets easier every day.
The fear fades quickly now. I trust her.
I know it takes more than that. I know there are going to be times where it's harder or easier.
But, whatever happens, I want to be there to hold her up.
To ease her burden.
To watch her dreams come true.
"You want to talk about it, sweetness?"
"Later." She presses her lips to mine.
She tastes good, like sugar and coffee.
Like she's everything I want.
She pulls back with a sigh. "Can we go home? I need… I need things to make sense."
"Yeah." That is a brilliant idea. But—"I have a stop planned."
"Something good?"
"Yeah."