Me: You’re really inspirational, Gigi.
Gigi: I’m just keeping shit real.
Lily: Either you do it, or someone else will.
Me: I’m not rushing things.
Tamara: Life’s too short to go slow.
Me: I don’t know how adding someone to a group text turned into marriage.
Rebel: Want us to go ring shopping with you?
Me: No.
Rocco: That’s my territory.
Lily: I’m adding Arlo. No more marriage talk. Got it.
Jett: Yes, mama.
Pike: Whatever.
Mammoth: Got it.
Rebel: Lips are sealed.
Rocco: Congrats, brother.
Jo: Noted.
Gigi: I’m not talking.
Tamara: You’re always talking.
Gigi: Shut up.
Arlo added to the chat scrolls across my screen, and I smile.
Me: Night, assholes.
With those words, I turn off my notifications and place my phone on the coffee table, relaxing back into the couch and closing my eyes.
“I made a decision,” Arlo says as we sit on the patio overlooking my treelined backyard early the next morning.
“And what’s that, babe?”
The letter that was left in her file is on the table between us, still untouched.
“I’m not ready to contact my birth parents.”
“Whatever makes you happy. I stand behind you no matter what.”
She smiles and takes a sip of coffee before wrapping both hands around the mug. “For the first time in my life, I feel happy. Content, even. The last thing I want to do is to rock the boat. I want to enjoy this feeling for a little while before anything else changes.”
“When you’re ready, if you ever are, I’ll be with you every step of the way to hold your hand.”
Her smile widens, almost kissing her eyes. “I know you will, and I love you for that.”
“Ditto, babe. Ditto.”
23
My mother pulls me aside. “When are you going to ask her?”
I stare at her with my eyebrows pulled down in the middle. “Ask her what?”
She smacks my arm. “To marry you,” she says with an eye roll.
I jerk my head back, widening my eyes. “What?”
“I see the way you look at her, and a woman like her doesn’t stick around forever, waiting for their man to put a ring on their finger.”
I move closer, making sure no one in the house can hear us easily. It’s Sunday, and the house is louder than normal since everyone’s inside because of a weird winter system dropping torrential rain. “Ma, we’ve been together weeks.”
“So?” she replies, crossing her arms and oozing attitude. “If you know, you know. Do you know?”
“I know, Ma. I know, but I don’t think Arlo’s ready.”
“She’s ready.” Ma smiles, glancing over at Arlo as she sits with Tamara, Gigi, Lily, Rebel, and Jo. “She’s one of us now. Lock her down, and lock her down tight.”
“I want to do it when we’re ready.”
“You’re wasting time, son. I see the way you look at her, and I know you’re gone. Never seen you look at anyone the way you look at Arlo. Time has a way of getting away from us, moving faster with each passing day. We never know what tomorrow’s going to bring, so get a move on it. And I want more grandbabies before I’m too old to enjoy them.”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously old,” she mutters. “And getting older every day. I want more babies before I’m using a walker to get around.”
My lips flatten, and I glare at her. “Your crazy guilt isn’t going to work on me, Ma.”
“What are you two talking about?” Aunt Fran asks, scaring the shit out of us. She’s so small, neither of us saw her sneak up on us, listening in on the conversation. “Are you popping the question?”
I hang my head, letting out a deep breath. “Can it be my idea instead of everyone else’s?”
“Oh. You are going to pop the question.” Fran grabs me around the middle with one arm and squeezes me with her wicked-weird strength.
“When I’m ready.”
“There’s no time like the present. One day, you’re young, and then, poof, you’re old.”
“Fucking crazy people,” I mumble under my breath.
“You’ll see, sweetie,” Fran says, still holding on to me. “We were all young once, and it goes by in a flash. A woman like Arlo, one with no tribe of her own but fitting in with a new one, wants and needs the stability and knowledge that she’ll always have a home. If you love her, put a ring on her finger before you do something dumb and lose her forever.”
I turn my eyes toward my great aunt. “Why would I do something dumb?”
She shrugs. “You’re a man with a penis. They always do something dumb.”
“What’s going on?” Aunt Angel asks, coming up to join us. “What’s the secret?”
“Mello is going to ask Arlo to marry him,” Fran tells her.
I lift my hand, scrubbing it down my face. “Why don’t we tell everyone?” I mutter.
“Ask her now, and you won’t have to tell anyone because everyone will see,” Angel says as if it’s that simple.
“I haven’t even told her I love her yet.”
All three women recoil as if I’ve said something utterly insane.
“What?” my mother whispers in a growly tone.
“Are you crazy?” Aunt Angel says.
“Idiot. All a bunch of idiots,” Fran mutters.
Ma reaches out and touches my arm. “Do you love her?”
“I do, more than anything.”
She gives my arm a light squeeze. “Then you need to tell her and then put a ring on that finger.”
“I want it to be special,” I say.
“It doesn’t matter how you ask or where, sweetie, but you need to do it before she starts to think you’re never going to get to that point. She knows about your history, your lack of commitment, and you don’t want any doubt creeping into her mind.”
I glance over at Arlo as she’s laughing with my cousins. “She doesn’t look like she has any doubt.”
“She’s surrounded by married women who have their place in this family solidified. Eventually, maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon enough, that seed of doubt will be planted, and you don’t want it to grow roots.”
“What’s wrong?” my grandmother asks, coming into the conversation late and unable to stop herself from knowing what we’re talking about.
“We’re talking about Carmello asking Arlo to marry him.”
My grandma smiles. “She belongs here.”
“I need time to find a ring. It has to be perfect.”
My grandmother lifts her hand, working her engagement ring from my grandfather off her finger. “Give her this,” she says, holding it up to me.
I blink, staring at her. “Gram, that’s your ring.”
She pushes it closer to my face. “I know, sweetheart, but I want you and Arlo to have it.”
“But…but…” I stammer, unable to move. “Shouldn’t it go to the oldest or one of the girls?”