Jolene blushes. “I probably should have gotten dressed, huh?” She’s still wrapped in the sheet.
I wave in dismissal. “Nah. If we were at her house, she’d probably be half naked herself. We weren’t raised to be super prudish about nudity, so you in a sheet isn’t going to bother her.”
“I was raised to be prudish about nudity,” Jolene says. “But I’m still feeling kinda meh, and putting on clothes just sounded like a lot of effort.”
I grin, and pull her onto my lap. “Trust me, I don’t mind.” I pull the edges of the sheet apart, baring her torso. “Especially now that we’re alone and you can just take it off.”
She nuzzles into me. “I’m not up for anything but cuddling, Wes. I’m sorry.”
“I know. Don’t apologize. I’m just expressing appreciation for your beauty.”
She trails her fingers through my hair. “Can we go back to bed? I’m tired again.”
“The beer, probably,” I say.
She only drank about half of it before deciding the taste wasn’t for her; Dinah didn’t finish her second either.
She shakes her head. “No, I’m still just…meh. Ready to sleep again.” She clings to my neck as I stand up with her in my arms. “Thank you for bringing my family here.”
“Of course.”
In bed, wrapped up in each other, covered with blankets.
“I like your sister,” she whispers.
“Me too.”
“Well that’s good,” she laughs. “She is your sister.” A pause. “I’m glad you have her.”
“Now you do, too.”
A pause. “If I wanted to call her and talk to her about you…”
I huff a laugh. “I’ll give you her number. Talking about me is her favorite thing. Especially if it’s talking shit.” I laugh again. “She means it with love, though, so I don’t mind.”
A long silence. “Wes?”
“Hmmm?” I’m sleepy, now. I haven’t slept well, if at all, since she took sick.
“Before I got sick, you said you’d take me on a date. Did you mean it? Can we…can we still do that?”
I trace circles on her scalp with my fingers. “Already have it planned.”
She makes a happy little sound. “Yay.” A pause. “Never been on a date.”
“What’s your favorite color?”
“The exact shade of chocolate brown of your eyes.”
I snort. “No one’s favorite color is brown,” I say, shaking with laughter. “That’s sweet of you, but try again.”
“Green. The green of pine needles and oak leaves and chlorophyll and life. Green is the color of life.”
Something about that makes my heart squeeze, twist.
“Favorite food?”
“Pizza.” Her answer is immediate. “The kind that comes out of a wood-fired stone oven. Margherita, specifically. Big fat gooey chunks of mozzarella and tomatoes and basil.”
“Favorite band?”
A pause. A smile in her voice. “I’m not being sweet, here, but…you. You’re my favorite musician.”
“Well that’s just ridiculous. I haven’t released any music in years.”
“If I had to pick another? Swan Song. Legit. I love their music, and I always have. And not just because they discovered you.”
I hold her closer. “Get some rest, now.”
She hums, nuzzling as close as she can get, burrowing into my throat and against my chest.
In this moment, I feel complete.
The shattering is on the horizon—I can feel it approaching like a tidal wave. But I’m only focused on the here and now, this moment, this feeling.
It’s all there is.
It’s all that matters.
Love—A Rise, Not A Fall
Jolene
I can’t quite bring myself to feel bad that I only spend a few days with my family—I include Macy and Beth as family. I just…I’ve had my whole life with them, and only a few days with Wes. So I’m a little greedy, I guess.
We do the Hollywood tourist thing. Sunset Boulevard, Beverly Hills, a comedy show—all guided by Wes in celebrity disguise. He even brings us on a golf cart tour of the Warner Brothers sound stage area, and we do indeed meet several well-known actors and actresses.
There’s lunch at a well-known Hollywood cafe, where even Wes isn’t the most famous person in attendance. A trip up the coast to Malibu, and a day at the beach. A day in Wes’s backyard, at the pool, where Mom, Macy, and Grandma sit in the shade and chat, and Dad shows Wes how to use his outdoor grill to cook steaks and burgers and we feel like one big family, and Beth and I splash in the pool and smirk at each other as we exchange looks and jokes—mostly Bethany teasing me about Wes and trying to get salacious details about our sexy times.
I tell her some things, in whispers, replete with laughter and sly looks at Wes. But most of it, I keep to myself. I just tell her enough to make her happy; she’s my best friend and the closest thing to a sister I’ve ever had, and I can’t not tell her anything.
I know I’ve only got so many good days in a row, though, before another wave of shittiness attacks me. As much as I love them, I want more time alone with Wes.
I want our date.
Most of all, I want what I know awaits us at the end of that date.
Mom can sense my turmoil, and corners me in the kitchen while Dad and Wes finish grilling and Macy and Beth change out of their swimsuits, and Grandma catnaps in the guest bedroom.
“You want us to leave, don’t you?” Mom asks.
I shrug. “I missed you guys, and I love you, and I’m really glad I got to see you all.” I hesitate. “And I’m also glad you got to see how Wes and I are together.”
Mom’s expression is complicated. “Honestly, you guys are much more…normal, I guess, than I expected.”
I give a wry smile. “What were you expecting?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know, honestly. You’re a lot more like a normal couple, I guess, instead of two people who have barely known each other for what, two full weeks?”
“Granted I’m far from an expert on what constitutes a normal relationship, but…clearly this isn’t it, any way you slice it.” I watch through the open back end of the house as Wes and Dad throw a football while the steaks finish cooking. “It all happened so fast, and it’s so intense. So intense, Mom. Emotionally, mentally, and yes, physically. I don’t expect you or anyone else to understand it, how something can just emerge almost…fully formed, out of nothing, instantly, like it seems this relationship has. I don’t even understand it. I just know it feels more right than anything in my life.”
I regard my mother—she’s listening, instead of trying to argue with me to see it her way, like she usually would.
“Honestly, Mom, I know you’re not going to like hearing this, but…” I let out a slow breath. “It feels like…like God or the universe or life is giving me something at the end of my life to make it all worthwhile. So I can let go and be at peace. I feel…complete. I haven’t missed out on anything, now.” I bite my lip. “Well, almost anything.”