“Ah, actually, my sister is getting here in a few hours.”
“No way!” She flips herself over and looks at me with wide, excited eyes. “Wait, which one? Is it Hope?”
I nod, laughing at how big of a deal this seems to be. It’s a big deal to me too; she was at her boyfriend’s for Christmas this year, so Hope and I haven’t seen each other in person since Thanksgiving. It’s a long time for a family that grew up super close.
I just didn’t think all that would be so interesting to DeeDee.
“Yeah, it’s Hope. She’s on her way in from Halifax right now, and I’m meeting her at the airport.”
DeeDee pounds on my chest with her fists. “That is so exciting!”
I make a spur of the moment decision before I can consider the risks.
“Do you, uh, maybe want to meet her? She’s here for three nights.”
DeeDee’s eyes get even wider than they already were, and her mouth shapes itself into a shocked ‘O.’
Shit. Too much.
“I can meet Hope?” she says on a gasp.
“Uh, I mean, only if you want to. No pressure. I just thought it would be fu—”
“I’m going to meet Hope!” DeeDee woops. “Mon dieu, I can’t believe it!”
I let out a nervous laugh. “You sound like she’s some kind of celebrity. I like my sister, but she’s not that interesting.”
DeeDee shifts her eyes down, cheeks flushing. “I just, ah, you tell me all those stories, and I kind of feel like...”
“Like what?” I prompt when she trails off, rubbing a hand along her arm to reassure her.
“It’s stupid, but I feel like your whole home town is this story book, and now I get to meet one of the people in it.”
The lump in my throat rises even higher.
“That...I didn’t—I didn’t know you felt like that.”
She shrugs. “I know it’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid.” I give her arm a squeeze. “DeeDee, that’s...that’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me.”
She still won’t look up, so I press my lips to her forehead and let them rest there for a moment. I hear her sniff, and I’m about to ask if she’s okay when she smacks my chest. Hard.
“You dork! Why didn’t you tell me she was coming? This is big news!”
I pull back, and she glares up at me.
“Well, it was kind of a last minute decision, and you and I weren’t...”
“Oh.”
A weight settles in the room. For all that happened last night, we still haven’t actually had ‘The Talk’ yet—the ‘what are we doing and where is this going’ talk. Part of me wants to just let it be, to stay in this bed forever and not worry about what comes next. After hearing everything DeeDee’s been through, the last thing I want to do is put her through more.
Only this conversation seems to be forcing itself on us whether we want it or not. The questions are always there in the back of my head, and I see them in her eyes sometimes when we look at each other.
I don’t understand how what’s between us can feel so strong and so fragile all at once, but I do know that this weight seems like it could crush us if we let it, and ignoring it only seems to make it press down even harder.
“DeeDee, I know that we moved kind of fast, maybe too fast, and—”
“Non.” She shakes her head, her chin tilting up with determination. “I needed it to move fast. I needed to feel...I needed to know...”
She reaches for my hand and twines her fingers through mine before bringing them to her heart.
“And now I know, but...I’m still scared. This is a lot. It’s so good, but...but it’s like the more good it is, the more I worry I’m going to mess it up.” She drops her gaze and murmurs the last part.
“DeeDee.” I cup her cheek with one of my palms. “DeeDee, you’re amazing. All of this, it’s...like you said, it’s so good. You couldn’t possibly mess this up.”
Her lips pull up into a sad smile, and I want to wipe it off her face. I want a real smile.
“This doesn’t have to happen overnight,” I assure her. “There are no rules for what this has to look like. It can be whatever we want it to be, and it can take as long as we need it to take.”
Her expression softens, but it’s still sadder than I’d like. “You are too good, Zach.”
It’s not the first time someone’s told me that. That’s what I was taught to be: a good person, someone who gives people what they need.
“Can we just...keep doing this for now?” DeeDee asks. “Can we keep seeing each other like this without making it more yet? I want to feel ready.”
“Of course.”
“And is it okay if we do not tell anyone?”
A bolt of pain runs through me. I’m ready to shout that DeeDee Beausoleil is mine from the rooftops of Montreal. I’d also shout the news that I’m hers, but I’ve accepted the fact that everyone seems to have known that for a long time. Hearing that she doesn’t feel the same urge to make wild and totally pre-emptive proclamations is a bit of a sucker punch to my pride.
Still, that can wait. It can all wait. This is more important.
“My lips are sealed,” I inform her. “Although not gonna lie, everyone is going to know something is up with me. I haven’t got that great of a poker face.”
“You have a cute face.” She strokes my cheek. “I really, really like it.”
“Imagine that. I really, really like your face too.”
She pulls me down for a kiss, and I hope Valérie has headphones on or something because we are about to head into round four.
“Brother dearest! It is I! Returned from a far land!”
Hope sprints across the arrivals area, brown hair flying and thin limbs flailing with her glasses slightly askew. She abandons her suitcase halfway to where I’m standing and leaps into my arms to tackle me with a hug that almost knocks me over.
“Hey, tiger.” I hold her tight before depositing her back on her feet. “Ugh, you’re heavy.”
“Asshole.” She punches my shoulder. “What’s with your beard?”
“What do you mean what’s with my beard?”
“You look like a farmer.”
I drop my arms to my sides and throw my head back to proclaim to the ceiling. “Why does everyone say that?”
“Because it’s true. Don’t worry; it’s cute.”
Hope skips away to pick her bag up and starts leading the way out of the terminal.
“Do you even know where you’re going?” I ask as she forges on ahead of me.
“I’ll figure it out.”
That’s Hope for you, always rushing headfirst into whatever situation she finds herself in, acting fast and only asking questions once she’s stuck.
She got stuck—literally—every second day when we were kids. I was always pulling her out of crawlspaces or tunnels or whatever totally dysfunctional object she decided would make a good flotation device. She once jumped into a lake with three battery-powered fans strapped to her back, thinking they would help her swim faster.