I don’t know if I completely agree with that. “I’m not beating myself up over it anymore,” I begin, continuing before he has a chance to argue. “And I know now it doesn’t make me a failure or the shame of the family. But I do think I’m responsible for some of the blame, Hollis. I was his boss, and I let him manipulate me.”
“When it comes to manipulation, I don’t think you allow someone to do anything, Pres. There is no consent. I think that’s what makes it truly terrifying. You don’t realize you’re a puppet until it’s too late.”
“Well, I’d say I learned my lesson and will never date an employee again, but…” I shrug, causing him to laugh.
“I do remember you saying, quite sternly in fact, that you were not my boss.”
“That’s right. You asked what you should call me instead. I said my name, obviously. And you, with that cocky grin and stupidly handsome face, replied and said…” I lower my voice, trying to mimic his. “‘Nah, I’ll just call you wife.’”
He chuckles. “That I did. Impeccable impersonation, by the way. I didn’t know I sounded like a stoned surfer from a nineties sitcom.”
I bark out a laugh and shrug. “The truth hurts.”
“Speaking of names,” he says, turning his attention to the water glittering in the distance. His expression turns hesitant. Nervous even. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
I set my coffee cup down on the table beside me and turn in my seat to face him. “Okay.”
“It’s a topic I think we’ve purposely avoided for a while, and I think that might be my fault. When your mom brought up the question of our last name at the wedding, I know you dodged the question because you knew it made me uncomfortable.”
I nod. “I didn’t mind. I just don’t understand why it was necessary in the first place. What about this has you so nervous? Are you afraid to ask me?”
He shakes his head. “No,” he says before briefly pausing. Then he turns to me. “Pres, I don’t want you to take my last name.”
My mouth falls open, but no words come out. Heat starts to creep up my neck. My throat feels thick. “Oh,” I say as my voice wobbles. “Okay. Yeah. That’s fine.”
His eyes widen. “Shit. Now I’ve really messed this up. I didn’t mean it like that.”
Tears sting my eyes. “Well, you just told me you don’t want me to take your name, Hollis. How else am I supposed to take it?”
He takes my hand, closing his two large ones around it. “I don’t want you to take it, because I don’t want it either.”
My eyes jerk up. “What?”
“Pres, my mom—we’re gonna have to find something else to call her, ’cause I really hate referring to her as anything maternal. But anyway,that womanjust crashed our weddingand demanded I pay her for keeping me alive for eighteen years. That is not the name or legacy I want to pass down to our kids.” His eyes widen ever so slightly. “You know, if you want kids. I realize it isn’t something we’ve really discussed.”
“I want kids,” I say with a warm smile. “Not yet, though.”
“No, definitely not yet.”
“And I might want to adopt.”
“Yeah?” His eyes soften. “I like that idea.”
We stare at each other, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “We’re getting seriously off topic.”
“Right.” He nods, although I can tell both of us seriously want to circle back to that conversation at some point in the near future.
“All those times I called you Beck in the past. Did that bother you?”
He shakes his head. “No. Honestly, I never really thought much about it until we got married. And when we did, I knew it was something I didn’t want to keep.”
“So if you don’t want me to take your name. What are you planning?—”
“I was hoping we might take yours,” he says with a hesitant shrug. “I know it’s not traditional, but we’re not exactly either. And I asked your parents, and they were more than?—”
I throw myself into his arms. He catches me with a loud grunt. I pull back, cupping his chin with both hands. “You really want to be a Creed?”
He grins. “I thought I already was.”
