Because, as much as they love me, or used to anyway, this does come off as a little nuts. Especially when a few weeks ago, Pres was here for a family dinner with a completely different man.
A man they all hated, but still.
“Why don’t we go sit?” I suggest, realizing we’re still all standing in the middle of the living room, awkwardly facing each other.
“Good idea,” Pres agrees. She takes my hand again as we all head toward the oversized sectional. It’s different from the one I remember, and now that I look around, I notice several new things in the room. A new abstract painting over the mantel. A fancy TV. A toy box.
Tilly’s gaze stays fixed on our joined hands as we all settle in. Even though I know Presley is holding it to sell our story, I can’t help but feel a little more at ease with her fingers curled around mine.
Her presence has always had that effect on me.
“So maybe we should start at the beginning?” I suggest.
Tilly and Lance nod. “That would be helpful.”
“I’m sure by now Mom has told you that Hollis and I have been talking for a couple of months. It started before that night he called during family dinner.”
Lance’s bushy gray brows furrow as Tilly’s cheeks go red. “Uh…no, I actually hadn’t mentioned that to your father yet. He’s been busy with work, and I wasn’t sure it mattered since we all got to chat with him in the end.”
“Oh.” Pres looks around awkwardly. “Well, that night Hollis called—that wasn’t spontaneous. I called him. We’d already reconnected. Mom was just covering for me.”
“Why did you keep it a secret?” Lance asks.
“Because it was new,” Pres explains. “And confusing. When Hollis first contacted me, I was so glad to have him back in my life, but then my feelings for him started to change, and I didn’t know how to handle that.”
She says it so effortlessly, I almost believe her.
“Wait,” Lance holds up a hand. “Your mother made it sound like you reconnected with him through social media. But he contacted you? How?”
Oh, fuck.
“He texted me.”
Lance’s gaze settles on me. “How did you get her number?” he asks, but it’s not really a question. He already knows the answer.
I let out a heavy sigh. This is a conversation that’s been a long time coming—one I wasn’t exactly planning on having five minutes after walking through the door. But I guess we might as well get it out of the way. “I always had it,” I confess. “I never lost any of your numbers.”
“So all the texts I sent…”
I shake my head, knowing this is gonna hurt. It’s taken a lot of therapy to get me to this point. To finally understand all the things I did to sabotage my own happiness in a futile attempt to protect myself. “I never got them, Lance. I blocked all of you the moment I walked out of this house.”
“Why?” He looks as wrecked as I felt that day.
“Because leaving you was something I could control. Walking away hurt a lot less than staying and someday finding out you didn’t want me,” I admit, as Pres squeezes my hand. I rub my thumb over the smooth skin of her knuckle. “I grew up believingI didn’t deserve anything good. That year I spent with you guys almost changed my mind. But when my mom showed up here demanding I come with her, it all just fell apart. Every ounce of self-worth I’d built crumpled at her feet, and I was nothing but a scared little kid again.”
“I’m so sorry, Hollis,” Tilly sniffles, her eyes glistening with tears.
“We tried everything,” Lance says, his voice hoarse. “I hired a lawyer, but by the time we could work anything out, your mother was long gone, and I couldn’t get a hold of you.”
I manage a sad smile. “It’s okay. I left as soon as I finished school, and I’ve had a good life.” I glance toward Pres, whose own eyes are a bit misty. “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
She smiles, and when we turn back to her parents, they both grin. “Yes,” Tilly agrees. “We can see that.”
Since it’s just the four of us, Tilly decides to forgo cooking anything for dinner and just order Thai for everyone. I’m a little bummed none of Pres’s siblings could make it, but also a bit relieved.
Telling Tilly and Lance has been stressful. Breaking the news of our marriage to the entire Creed family would have been exhausting.
While we wait for the food to arrive, Pres and I give them the edited version of our Vegas wedding story—one that does not involve copious amounts of alcohol or waking up with the world’s worst hangover and no recollection of the night before.
