The pause is momentary because determination sets in Andrew’s eyes, and he takes his first step. Long strides, hell-bent on me.
When he reaches me, he cups my face and kisses me. It isn’t fierce or desperate or even hasty. It feels like he’s been on his feet in the most uncomfortable pair of shoes while braving a smile and acting as if he’s completely fine, only to come home and take them off with a promise to himself that he’s never going to put himself through that again. It’s relief. There’s reassurance and comfort in this kiss.
He pulls away and looks at me. A glance at my face and a quick scan over my body like he’s checking on me. Making sure I’m okay. I almost hear it in his soft sigh, and I nearly answer with a weak no. I am most definitely not okay.
“I’m not him,” he whispers.
“Wha—”
“I’m going to take care of you,” he adds. “Iwantto take care of you.”
I sigh, turning my face. “Andrew, I have some shit I need to work through, and it wasn’t fair how I treated you. I shouldn’t have kept you hidden from everyone. You deserve so much better than that.”
“I know. But you were scared. And I need you to know I’m not him. I’m not going to be careless with your heart. I’m going to take care of it.”
My chin trembles. “You are?” I ask tearfully.
He nods. Not a quiet, calm nod, but fast up and down bobs leaving little room for doubt. He kisses me again, letting his lips linger on mine. “I love you,” he whispers.
I smile, loving the sound of those words from him. They sound safe yet profound. “I love you, too,” I tell him, meaning it with every fiber in my body.
“I know.”
“I really do,” I add. “I’m so sorry I didn’t say it before, but I do.”
“I know.”
This must be what it feels like to be cherished. Like I’m worth the time and energy and love. And none of it’s a chore, it’s an honor. It’s an honor to love me. And the realization that someone would care enough about me to come all this way just to tell me he loves me causes everything to feel light. The shackles hooked to my heart are starting to disintegrate. And with time and patience, something Andrew is willing to give me, I can see them eventually disappearing, right alongside my past.
“Grace!”
We both startle. Andrew turns around to see we’ve drawn a small crowd. My parents, Jade, Trevor, and a sleepy Avery.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Andrew.” I hear my mom’s voice croon and look just as she pulls him into an awkward embrace. “Grace has told us so much about you.” I guess introductions are a bit redundant at this point.
I reach for Andrew’s hand, and his eyes glisten with the knowledge that my parents know who he is. He isn’t some strange man who crashed their party by bursting through the doors and kissing their daughter. He’s Andrew Cohen, Grace’s boyfriend.
“This is Jade,” I tell Andrew, just as my eyes meet Jade’s. “And her husband Trevor.”
Andrew extends his hand to greet them, but my sister ignores the offer and hugs him the way my mom did, like how she embraces family.
The hubbub of Andrew’s arrival dies down, and the dancing continues. My parents entertain their guests while Jade and Trevor call it a night with a fussy baby in their arms, and it’s just Andrew and me at our table. There’s scattered specks of confetti over the clothed tables alongside champagne glasses in various stages of fullness. We’ve managed to snag one of the last few slices of cake, and we’re enjoying it with Andrew’s arm draped over the chair behind me.
“Fifty years,” Andrew comments. “That’s a long life together.”
“Mh-hmm,” I answer.
“What’s their secret?”
I shrug my shoulder. “My dad always does what my mom says. That might be a good start.”
“Oh yeah?” he teases. He pinches my side, and it causes me to curl closer into him. “So happy wife, happy life?”
“Something like that.”
“Hey, where’s our son?”
I stifle a laugh, covering my mouth with my hand. “Our son?”
