“Maybe one day we can do it together. Pay it forward a little.”
Char’s hand finds mine. “I’d like that. Might even be cathartic for me.”
“For both of us.”
Betty barely stops as she deposits two glasses of orange juice at our table, a small portion of each sloshing over the side onto the table.
“This town doesn’t know what it’s in for,” I grouse.
Char reaches for a napkin, dabbing the spilled juice.
“There’s something else I need to tell you.” I hesitate, hoping she’ll be okay with this. “My mom’s finally agreed to move up here.”
Her eyes widen, then soften into a grin. “Dave, that’s amazing.”
“Yeah, but it affects both of us,” I say, rubbing my neck. “I love my mom, but?—”
“Are you kidding? Considering my mother figures are a foster mom in Candy Cane Key and an unhinged fairy godmother who might manage to piss off the whole town, having a real one here sounds amazing.”
“You sure, babe? We’ve only started living together. Now you’re going to have to welcome your boyfriend’s mom into the equation.”
“I love your mother. And I know how long you’ve wanted this. For a girl who would’ve given anything to have a mom like yours growing up, I’m not turning down the chance now.”
“God, I love you.”
“Keep that up, brown eyes,” Betty says, slapping the check down on the table. “You might just make it after all.” She winks.
“What the?—”
“Oh, relax. She’s just looking out for me.”
This makes my tense shoulders relax. Because there’s no way I can fault anyone who wants the best for my girl.
The next fewmonths pass in a soft rhythm of paint fumes and laughter. By the time my mom’s scheduled to arrive, the guest room smells like fresh linen, and the kitchen is tricked out with everything we need for cooking Sunday dinners together. I have to admit, having my mother here with Char when I’m working twenty-four-hour shifts at the firehouse makes me feel a sense of relief I hadn’t realized I needed.
I wake up early to make breakfast, my famous “grumpy snowman” pancakes. I tell her it’s tradition, but the truth is, I can barely keep my hands from shaking.
When Char walks in, her hair loose and her eyes still heavy with sleep, she stops mid-step. The pancakes on her plate aren’t snowmen at all. They’re hearts.
I watch as she tries to push the sleep from her eyes and focus.
Spelled out in chocolate chips on the two heart pancakes in front of her are two words that nearly undo her.
Marry Me?
For a heartbeat,she just stares. Then she gasps, tears spilling over as she rounds the counter, flinging herself into my arms.
“Yes, yes, yes!” she squeals into my chest.
I laugh, relief and joy twisting together until I can barely breathe. “Don’t you even want to see the ring?”
She leans back, eyes bright with happy tears. They’re the only ones I ever want to see shining there. “Ha! Sure. But it could be made of licorice for all I care.”
I slip the ring onto her finger anyway. The round solitaire glitters in the morning light, but not half as much as she does.
She looks down at it, then up at me, voice trembling. “I can’t believe you did this.”
“Well, I had a little help,” I murmur, brushing my thumb along her cheek.
