Angie shakes her head and pulls away from me to gatherup her bags. I take one of the duffels and two of the suitcases, while she takes the remaining pieces, and together we head downstairs. I look back and see her stopped in the foyer, taking the house key off her set, and moving into the room with her piano. The metal clank of the key on the lid is deafening. Angie stands at the piano, likely remembering all the time she spent perfecting her skills. She may not want a piano, but another promise I’m making is to get her a piano as soon as possible.
My heart breaks for her as I see her head drop and her shoulders shake as the realization settles in that this is no longer her home. If this is how her parents reacted, then I can’t imagine how mine will react.
When she turns around, I put on a brave face.
But deep down, I am breaking for her.
We walk as quickly as we can out of the house with snow and ice covering the walkway. I drive us back to the park, get out, and round to the passenger side and open her door. I sit on the doorframe and reach my hand out, lightly tracing her jaw that’s clenched from the force of her refusing to let the sobs free.
“Baby,” I whisper. It’s that name that has her breaking, falling forward, crippled, and overwhelmed with emotion. I catch her. Angie gasps for breath as the events of the last hour catch up to her. I hold her to me as if that’ll keep her together. “Let it out, Angel. I know this is hard. I know that you love your parents. I know you wished they’d love the partner you choose.”
Her whimpers of sadness are like daggers to the heart. Was that the last time she’ll see her parents? If it was, did it have to end like that? While I’ll never understand their reasoning, as I’m not a parent—how could they do that to their only child?
I place kisses on the side of her head and pull back to look at her. Slow tears fall down her face and I wipe each one away gently with my thumbs. “I’m gonna love you enough for three people. I promise.”
Angie’s lips tremble from my admission and I place a kiss on her forehead, pulling her to me in another hug. My legs have gone numb from how I’m sitting, mixed with the cold when Angie pulls back. But comforting her is more important than my comfort.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“You don’t need to thank me.”
“I do. I wouldn’t have been able to do that if it weren’t for you.”
I wipe a stray tear from under her eye and cup her face. “You would have. Your parents are going to miss out on your strength and light. I feel bad for them.”
Her blue eyes slide up to mine, and a small smile cracks for the first time since earlier this afternoon. “I love you. I don’t think I’ve said it enough.”
“You don’t need to say it all the time for me to know how you feel,” I reassure her. “So you know, I love you too. And I promise to be the best roommate you’ll ever have.”
“I know,” she says with a small smile and a few more tears trailing down her cheeks. “Are you ready to tackle your family?”
I nod solemnly, giving her a quick kiss, and standing up before shutting the door and rounding back to the driver’s side.
Me: Headed to the house.
Evan: I just got here.
Malcolm: I’m leaving the firehouse now.
Ford: I think they’re in a good mood.
Me: I’ll drive slow.
After texting my brothers, I drop my phone in the cupholder and head off in the direction of my parents’ house.
My grip on the steering wheel can be accounted for by two things: navigating the snowy backroads and nerves over telling my family that Angie and I are dating.
The ride there is silent. Which is good because I feel like I’m gonna barf. My nerves somewhat settle when I see Malcolm and Evan’s trucks parked in the driveway and I pull in behind Ford’s since he still lives here.
“I haven’t been here in years,” Angie says quietly while looking up at the sprawling home.
Growing up, I always thought everyone had houses like ours. I wouldn’t call it a mansion—but with five boys, my parents invested in a four-thousand-square-foot home, which gave us just enough room to not be on top of each other. But then I’d hang out with other friends from school and realize how privileged my brothers and I were to live somewhere like this. I can’t help but think that this might be my last time here.
“Are you ready?” Angie asks and takes my hand in hers.
“No,” I tell her honestly, “but this is the next step to being out in the open.”
She nods and places a kiss on the top of my hand, then unbuckles her seatbelt and gets out of the car.
