“It seems worse today,” I observe in a soft voice.
“He had a rough night,” Andy explains.
“Like the kind you have?” I ask, and Andy shakes his head.
“I have trouble sleeping sometimes, but Jonah has really bad nightmares.” He looks into my eyes, his own full of worry and fatigue. “I think it’s because I remember everything, so I’m scared to fall asleep. But Jonah doesn’t remember anything from the day he got injured. When he sleeps, his subconscious sort of pushes up fragments and pieces.”
“Will you be okay at the club?”
“Yeah, external stuff isn’t really a trigger for me. Overwhelming emotions are usually what flare up my migraines.”
“How many have you had since I showed up?” Andy smiles at me, a smile that spreads warmth down to the tips of my toes. “There are less and less of them every day I spend close to you.” Andy turns to face me, cupping the back of my neck and tilting my head up, so I’m looking straight into his mesmerizing eyes. “The last couple of attacks had nothing to do with you.”
“Was it really bad, what happened to Jonah?” I can’t stop myself from asking when I understand the reason was Jonah’s struggle, and the pain flashing through Andy’s eyes paired with a tortured grimace are all the answer I need.
“Come on, Curls, it’s your birthday.” His lips brush over mine with a feather touch, and he slides an arm around my waist, steering me to the restaurant. “Let’s do this another day, okay?”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Thank you for telling me all that.”
“Baby steps.” Andy smiles, opening the door for me.
The meal flies by, bottles of bubbly come and go as we laugh and talk, and a cake with candles arrives at the end, the entire restaurant bursting into song, which I love because I never shy away from being the center of attention.
“Thank you for dinner, it was awesome.” I hug Jonah, and he hugs me back.
“You guys have fun.” He and Andy do a guy hug, and I catch Andy giving him a stern look. A silent conversation seems to go on between them for a couple of seconds before Jonah waves goodbye and goes his way.
“He’s a nice boy,” Leanne states. “Such sadness, though.”
“He’s been through a lot,” Gabe tells her, before changing the subject. “Are you getting blasted with photos as well?”
“Oh, yeah. Jill said not to dare pick Bo up tonight, that I should enjoy myself and sleep in.” Leanne laughs nervously. “Considering how well Phoebe knows her, she isn’t really a stranger, so I suppose it’s okay.”
“Mom and Lola will take great care of Bo, Leanne, don’t worry,” Andy reassures her, and I nod in agreement.
“Oh, there’s the club,” Trista exclaims with glee and grabs mine and Zoe’s hands, yelling at Leanne to join in and pulling us through the waiting crowd and into the building.
It takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the colorful lights, but my body gets swept away by the bass thrumming through it. The boys take a seat at our reserved table to give us some girl time and order us all drinks as we dance and laugh for a good thirty minutes before taking a break to fuel up on booze.
“You should slow down, cookie,” I prompt Leanne, who just threw down two shots one after the other.
“Now you listen to me, sugar. I fell for that lying, cheating son-of-a-bitch Torrance three days before I turned twenty-one.” She points a finger at me. “I’ve been raising my baby alone for over four years, and I haven’t had the night off since. I am over thirty, and I never got to party in my life. So not only are you not going to try and stop me but if need be, you will also hold my hair.”
“Uh, since it’s her birthday, I volunteer to hold your hair,” Gabe pipes in. Leanne seems satisfied, but his eyes betray him as he peers at her, making it clear part of the reason for his self-sacrifice has nothing to do with being nice to me and everything to do with guilt eating at his insides.
“Let’s dance,” Andy shouts over the music, a playful glint in his vibrant eyes and that boyish grin decorating his handsome face. And just like that, all thoughts of Gabe’s bizarre reactions to Leanne flutter away into oblivion.
We get lost in the music, our bodies pressed together as we lose the beat and just sway, and that word jumps to my mind again, the one I’ve been trying so hard to ignore since that night at Lola’s when I first met Jonah and Andy took his first step in letting me in. A pesky word that gets lodged into every one of my vital organs despite my best efforts to throw it back to my subconsciousness.
Forever.
Andy
“Tonight was fun,” Phoebe exclaims quietly as to not wake up Trista and Zoe asleep in the back seat.
“It was,” I agree.
“You still haven’t given me a present,” she points out, gazing at me through her lashes with a coy smile.
“I will, when we’re alone,” I promise, swiping a strand of hair off her face. “Have I told you that you look beautiful tonight?”
“You can tell me again.” Phoebe giggles softly and kisses my palm before letting me place my hand back on the wheel.
“White is definitely your color, baby.” I smile at her, the loose dress hanging low at the cleavage, golden strands adorning her neck, the combination making her seem luminescent.
“Just means you should give me more reasons to wear it,” she sasses, and I can’t help but burst out laughing, stopping abruptly when she shushes me.
“Subtle, Curls,” I chortle, shaking my head.
“You’re the one that keeps telling everyone you’re going to marry me,” she retorts with a smile.
“First of all, I only said that to Brian after he punched me in the face,” I defend myself.
“And second?” she wonders.
“There isn’t a second, that was my only valid argument.”
“You’re weird,” Phoebe states, then yawns, and the bit of hair I had swiped off her face is right back over her eyes.
“And you’re tired.” I tuck the wayward strand back behind her ear. “You can sleep, I’m totally awake.”
“Okay,” she concedes, resting her head on the window. “Wake me up when we’re home.”
“Home, huh?” I feel a rush of hope and joy that she’s calling the Grove home, but my question just hangs in the air, and I realize Phoebe’s already asleep.
I pull aside Gabe, who’s in his own car, to shoot him a nod, making sure he’s all good for the remainder of the drive. He gives me a thumb up and grins. Next to him, Brian waves and Mac salutes me from the back seat, Leanne passed out on his shoulder, so I’m calm knowing the rest of my family is safe.
My family. The thought is completely random, but it feels right, I realize with surprise.
The drive isn’t far, and in no time, Gabe and I circle the driveway square at the front of the inn, decorated with grass, flower beddings, and a big apple tree, pulling up in front of the door.
“I’ll take Leanne to her room,” Mac notifies us, holding the passed out southern bell princess style, while waiting for Zoe to slug her way to him, half asleep.