“Good night, Lola,” I say softly.
It takes an extraordinary amount of willpower, but I turn and go to my room.
After coffee with Marcus the next morning, we head to my house, where the family is waiting. It’s been a long time since we’ve all been at the St. Paul house together.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asks nervously.
We’re about to pull in the driveway. When I mentionedhaving brunch with my family, she looked terrified, but she said she was dying to meet them.
“They must hate me so much,” she says quietly.
“No, they don’t hate you. They didn’t hate you before I told them about Daniel either.”
I bring the car to a stop.
She turns to look at me. “They didn’t?”
“Well, Goldie might’ve briefly after I told her you left me in Nantucket?—”
She winces.
“But once she knew more, she was quick to forgive. She can’t wait to meet you.”
She lets out a long exhale. “I’m really sorry I did that, Tully.”
“I know. You’ve already apologized.”
“Do you think you can forgive me, though?” She bites the inside of her cheek.
“I forgive you,” I say, my voice hoarse. “I…don’t know why I’ve been hesitant to?—”
She reaches out and almost touches me, but pulls back. “I’d understand if you can’t move on with this. I appreciate you helping me, but…I don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck with…this turning into more.”
My mouth goes dry. Does she not want this to be more?
“I don’t feel stuck,” I tell her.
“Good,” she whispers. “Do you think you could ever…would you ever be able to trust me again to be more than friends?”
“I wouldn’t be bringing you to brunch with my family if I didn’t.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath, and she breaks out into a wobbly smile. “Really?” she breathes.
“Really.”
I kiss her hand again. “Are you ready?”
“Absolutely not,” she says, while nodding.
I chuckle. “Perfect. That’s my girl.”
We walk up the porch steps together, and the noise hits us immediately when I open the front door—voices layered over each other, something clattering in the kitchen, and then above all of it, Grayson’s voice shriekingHe’s here, he’s here, he’s here!—and then we start seeing faces, first the puppies’ and then everyone else’s.
Kevin twirls at our feet, and Bill stands stoically, waiting for us to notice him. I tell Lola who’s who, and she oohs and aahs over both dogs, giving them lots of scratches.
My dad gets to us first, and he hugs me and then steps back to smile at Lola.
“Hello, Lola,” he says. “I’m Everett. I’m so glad to finally meet you.”
