I hoped not. "My family might not understand our choices, but they’ll make concessions as long as we’re happy–and you make me happy." Usually. Although right now, my insides were all squiggly.
He nodded, rolling his lip ring between his teeth.
We drove past empty lanes, spotlight lamps glaring over the lot.
I parked next to his car, the shadow of our first ‘fight’ that occurred here looming over us. Tension bubbled up my throat with a broken laugh. “Why are you so quiet?”
Harvey used his elbows to push himself up in the seat. “You said you feel…complicated things.”
“Yes?” Didn’t everybody?
His nostrils flared and he pushed back against the headrest to look at the ceiling of my car as if he could crack the shell into some great universal philosophy beyond. “You obviously care about your family, and you care about me. But you had to know they wouldn’t be thrilled about a guy with tattoos and piercings. Plus, you’re coaching me to be your Daddy.”
“Okay?” I frowned. Was he psychoanalyzing me again?
He pushed back his cap. “So, am I supposed to replace your family?”
“What? No. You’re over analyzing this phone call. I didn’t want my mom to worry.”
“I guess you’re right, but your family saw you as pulling away from them to be with me for the winter festival. Then, you had to call your mom for permission to spend time with me. It kinda feels like this tug-of-war where you need to ‘choose’ one, but appease the other later. Our relationship is weirdly tied up in your independence–like a wedge.”
I let out an incredulous laugh. “What are you talking about? I tried to protect you, today. And yes, I do try to findcommon ground with the fam. There’s give and take in every relationship.”
His fingertips ghosted the top of my thigh. “I know, but I’m not sure you’ve actually created healthy boundaries with them.”
“It’s not all going to change in a few weeks. I have created boundaries with them.” A few, at least.
“Are they trampling them? Are you not enforcing?” He shook his head. “I’m worried we’re going to spend the rest of our lives fighting or dealing with tension from them. Sleepovers, holidays, random babysitting, and forced dinners? That’s not me." He touched my leg before I could spiral in a full-blown panic. "I’ll try. I’ll go to some things if it’s important to you. I don’t want to be a troublemaker. I just want to be with you.”
“Wait, we…" My brain short-circuited. “Did you say the rest ofourlives?”
He flushed and squeezed my knee. “I mean, maybe.”
I blinked, dizzied by the idea of decorating a tree together, promise rings glinting like the star we were placing at the top. “Everyone’s talking as if we’re getting married," I said. It hit differently when it was Harvey.
He leaned over the center console. “Wh-what was that?”
“Ah, nothing.” I theatrically fluffed my hair out of my hood. “Listen, Harvey, I started my rebellious phase a long time ago, so this isn’t a fling or a wedge for me. My family tried to get rid of the last guy that made me happy, but I found a way around that.”
Harvey tensed. “What do you mean?”
“Mr. Waddles hangs out here with me. We have all the privacy we need.” I kissed Harvey’s cheek.
He laughed and gestured over his shoulder. “Are you going to hide me in your back seat?”
“No, but we can do other stuff in there.” I wagged my brows.
“Perv.” He smirked and leaned in for another kiss. The embrace grounded me with dopamine, the bells on my bootstinkling as I inched closer. But the console dug into my thigh. Why was it so hard to kiss comfortably in the front seat?
I eased away and rubbed his arm. “This may be hard to hear, but some of my family are actually cheering for you. None louder than me.”
His gaze fell heavy on my lips before flicking to my eyes. “I know.”
I sighed and reclined in the seat. “Why do we always have big talks in the parking lot? And this might be one of our last. Maybe we should cover more. I mean, I could worry you’re going to leave me once you start training. New place, new people, I won’t be at the mall on breaks anymore, you don’t like my family…”
“Shelby.” He gently massaged my neck like he was kneading knots out of dough. “I don’t want to leave you. Tonight, tomorrow, or next week. I’m sorry I was projecting.”
Tension eased in waves and my eyes fluttered shut for a second. I didn’t want this to end. “It’s Christmas. I don’t want to worry. I want to keep celebrating.”
