When we all sit down for dinner, we have to add multiple extra chairs, and even then the lot of us hardly have enough elbow room to eat. When Archer is home, and if he were to—God forbid—someday end up with someone whoisn’tAllie, we’d have so many people at our dinner table that we’d need to add a second one. Not to mention the potential of Zander falling in love and bringing someone home too—no matter how adamantly he claims it’ll never happen.
My grandmother leads our conversation, as she always does. She takes time to ask each of her grandchildren—Allie and Weston included—for updates on what’s happening in their lives. Zander talks through his preparations for the start of his fourth year at Golden State University and his place on the hockey team. Allie mentions she’s on track to graduate a semester early with her culinary fine arts degree at the same school. Weston speaks of his excitement to work with the Huntington Surf Academy and his high hopes of competing next year. I finally announce to everyone that I’ll be attending school in Irvine and moving into Livia and Lou’s house when they head to Costa Rica—though I’m not sure what Weston and I will do when they come back early next year.
Despite giving up my future at Berkeley, and losing out on an entire semester of my education, there isn’t a hint of disappointment in the eyes of anyone I love. Only pride. Every person at this table knows the decision I made earlier this summer, and I know I’m a lucky one to have the freedom to beso honest without fear of judgment. To be so wholly supported when starting over. To be held while healing.
It’s why I’ve decided not to tell my parents yet about what happened with Parker today, because the truth is, I wasn’t lying to myself when I decided it would be the last time I thought of him. I refuse to continue allowing him to hold any space inside my soul, not when I have so much love to fill it instead. I know I’ll have tough days, and I know there is still pain to process, but in this home, and surrounded by my family, that darkness doesn’t need to exist.
Tomorrow, I’ll sit down with my parents to talk about it so we can expedite the restraining order. When I’m haunted in the middle of the night, I’ll have Weston to hold me through it. I’ll find a counselor at school who can help me work through the deeper gashes that haven’t quite healed. At this moment, though, I feel an immense urge to be entirely present. Especially when Wes grips my knee beneath the table, holding me with tender reassurance.
We pull cards for dish duty. Wes and Zander lose, so while they go about cleaning up after dinner, Everett plays cornhole with Livia and Lou while Dahlia and Allie video call Archer. August helps my mom pick flowers from her garden, and Elena goes for a walk with my grandparents. I find myself sitting on the back porch with my dad as the sun begins to sink below the horizon.
“You know I wasn’t exaggerating when I said you could live at home and be my baby forever, right?”
“You know I wasn’t exaggerating when I said absolutely not, right?” I chuckle, leaning against his shoulder.
“I know.” He sighs. “It’s hard watching you grow up sometimes—falling in love, getting hurt, and figuring out who you are. Having you close to me this time made me feel like Icould do a little more to protect you, and I guess I’m afraid to let you go now.”
“You weren’t this sentimental when I left for college at eighteen. Or when I moved in with Parker,” I say softly.
“Maybe I should’ve been. Maybe that’s what’s scaring me now.”
“You taught me how to protect myself. I’ll be okay.”
“I know.” He nods, chin brushing over the top of my head as he holds me against him. “You can always come back home, Sugar.”
“I don’t think I’ll need to this time,” I whisper, my words laced with unbreakable confidence. “Weston is different.”
“I think he is too.”
That confirmation from my father settles over me like the crackling of fire on a breezy beach evening. I’m not in the habit of asking permission or seeking approval over the things or people I love, and my parents have never set that expectation themselves. I’ve always been given unconditional support to seek a life that is solely mine, but hearing my dad’s favor of Weston from his own lips is another omen cementing my faith that this is exactly where I’m meant to be.
A throat clears, and I lift my head to find Wes standing in the doorway that leads from the house. “Hey.” He smiles bashfully. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”
“No.” I laugh. “I was actually just going to grab dessert. Do you want some, Dad?” I ask, lifting out of the swing.
“Yeah. Grab some for Mama too,” he says, adding when I take a step forward, “Your shoe is untied, Sugar.”
“Oh.” I pause, glancing down to find the lace of my yellow Converse unraveled.
“I got it.” Weston drops to his knees in front of me, gently grasping my ankle and setting it on his thigh as he reties my shoe. When he finishes, he presses a kiss to my calf, eyes driftingup to peer at me through his lashes—the pure adoration in his features enough to make me tremble. “There you go, love.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, cheeks flushing. Weston takes my hand, interlocking our fingers as he grabs the handle to the back door.
I peek over my shoulder at my dad, who watches the interaction with rapt reverence, a tender smile taking over his features when his eyes meet mine. A mutual understanding. This one is different. This one is forever.
Later, after we’ve had cake—well, I had cake while Allie forced Weston to try at least two bites at the threat of deep offense, even though he claims to still hate sweets—he and I sit on the back porch of my parents’ house as the sun finishes sinking into the Pacific beyond us. The clouds are painted in a deep hue of rustic orange and violet, lingering daylight casting the earth in gold.
I’m shading the tattoo on his thigh with some washable markers I found in a kitchen drawer, doing my best to match the color of the sky on his skin.
“I love you, Willow,” he murmurs softly.
“I love you too.” I laugh, lifting my head to catch his gaze.
The fading sun pools inside his eyes, setting that gray-blue aflame. There are no longer storms within his irises—the clouds that used to haunt him seemed to have vanished entirely, leaving behind only radiance.
“Your eyes used to be so shadowed,” I whisper, grabbing his face. “Dark and turbulent. That’s gone now.”
His full lips tick upward at the corner of his mouth. “Guess it’s all the sunshine you shrouded me in. I was lost in darkness and found myself in your daylight.”
