What we do hear is soft conversation from the kitchen and a spoon or two clanging against a dish. Wes places a kiss on my forehead and a hand at the small of my back to lead me into what could be the lion’s den. I feel like I’m the fourteen-year-old who got caught sneaking in late and I have to explain myself. This will be worse. So much worse.
I tighten the tie on my robe and hold the lapels closed as we cross the threshold into the kitchen. My mother is just closing the freezer door and my father is huddled over a bowl of ice cream at the breakfast bar. There are two empty bowls and one-half empty bowl beside him. We stand frozen, much like the mounds of ice cream waiting to be addressed.
“Hello, Wesley,” my mother chirps. “Ice cream?”
I can hear that low chuckle I’ve become used to again in the last few hours rumble around in his chest. “Yes, please. Two scoops.” Wes gives me a gentle nudge at my back to go have a seat next to my father. “Have any chocolate syrup?”
“Seriously?” I blush as I sit next to my father. “Are we going to turn this into dessert hour and not address the rather huge elephant in the room?”
“I’m sure we do, Wes,” my father adds. “So, am I to infer that the two of you are back together?” I cross my arms on the countertop and flop my head over so everyone can’t see the brilliant shade of red my face and ears have now become.
Wes stands at the short end of the counter next to my father. His voice calmly radiates through the room. “Yes, we are. I came to Hayley tonight to ask her to forgive me, tell her I’m willing to do what it takes for as long as it takes to make her feel safe with me again.” He clears his throat. “You should also know that I’ve asked Hayley to marry me, and she said yes.”
My head shoots up off my arms and I’m staring into the eyes of my future husband. I love him more than I could ever say for what he just said, but I’d also like to kill him.
My mother walks over with the pint of vanilla still in her hand and sets it down between all of us. She reaches across to pull one of my hands free from my defensive, defeated posture and the other rests softly on Wes’s arm. “Are you sure this is what you both want? Are you certain about the commitment you want to make? Things won’t get easier.”
I open my mouth to start answering her when Wes beats me to the punch. “Lil, I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. I have a history I know I’ll have to erase from your memory over time. Losing this one and all the pain she’s been through has changed me. She’s changed me. I know there are so many things, so many unknowns we’ll have to face. I know we’ll be able to face them together. I never thought I’d have my Jerry Maguire moment, but she completes me. Jack, I’m sorry I didn’t get your blessing. I’m sorry I didn’t care for her better in the first place. If she can find it in her to let me try again, I’m hoping you will too.”
If I hadn’t already said yes, what he just said would have done it for me. “Mom, Dad…I know what you walked in on tonight was, well, unexpected. I am happy. I’m okay. I’m better than okay. We’re going to figure this out together. I don’t know what that will look like necessarily, however, I want to. I need to. He’s the one.”
My father looks at Wes, then looks over to me. He knows. He can see it in my eyes and his. We’re on the same page. We want the same things and are going to do what it takes to be there for each other. “Well, Lily, looks like we’re toasting with ice cream. I think this calls not only for chocolate syrup, but perhaps a few sprinkles.” My father leans over, kisses my forehead, and whispers, “It’s nice to see you smile like this and I’m glad I wasn’t the one who opened your door.”
“Me too, Dad. Me too.”
Chapter 29
Hayley
Mom and Dad let Wes and I be alone again long enough to say good night. The thick sleeves of my robe fall back toward my shoulders as my arms loop around Wes’s neck. My toes curl, even being on them, with his kiss. He cups the back of my head like I am a doll in his hands. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing the soft groans from his throat. Holy shit. I’ll be able to hear them forever.
Wes and I didn’t talk about how we want to tell people or if we want to tell people. I never thought I’d be telling anyone anything like this for a long time, if ever. The first person I want to tell is Eli. This wouldn’t even be a thing without him. He’s always been the one to help me, guide me, care for me when I’m sick or hurt. We haven’t had much to celebrate lately as far as I am concerned. I need him to be happy for me.
I’d already agreed to a spa date for our feet, weeks ago, with Dylan. She’s texted me nearly every day this week to make sure I was okay, if I still felt like going, and to be my support human. Tori never was a sister to me. She always made me feel like an absolute bother if I asked her to do anything with me or if I wanted to spend time alone with Eli. It made me furious.
With Dylan, it’s so easy. She wants me to like her. She wants to make sure I know that she isn’t that person, especially after crossing paths with the Wicked Witch. She wants to be my sister and I want to be hers. As much as I want to share this with Eli first, I want to talk it through with my best friend.
I catch a ride into the city with my father. Mom had brunch with her friends, so he decided to go into the office for a couple of hours. At least this way, he can tell Mom it was because he was already there instead of in the reverse. Dylan has become very skilled on her crutches. I told her I could get us a rideshare, but she insisted on going the few blocks so she could exercise.
“Dylan, that sounds more painful every time I hear it. The crunch of the metal on the pavement as you move. When did they say you could try putting weight on your knee again?”
“I see my physical therapist again on Monday. He’s an ass.”
I have to laugh. “You don’t like him then?”
“No, I do like him. He’s just pushing me harder and faster than I think I’m ready for.”
“He wouldn’t do that if he thought you weren’t ready, would he?” By the huge pause, I can tell there’s something more to this. “Are you not ready?” I keep walking ahead and the crunch of her crutches stops feet behind me. As soon as I realize she is no longer beside my shadow, I stop and turn around to look for her. She’s looking down at her braced knee as her dangling toes point toward the ground. “What is it? Did I say something wrong?”
The scent of mocha and caffeine filters under our noses. My instincts, and knowledge, tell me we might need a minute or thirty before we keep going. I loop my arm through hers and point to a small café table on the corner. She doesn’t fight, which tells me she might have as much to say as I do.
I grab us a couple of hot chocolates from inside and finally join her on the sidewalk. “Thank you.” She wraps her hands loosely around the cup. “You didn’t say anything wrong. You didn’t say anything that I haven’t thought in my head a thousand times.”