Drift (Lengths) (24 page)

EPILOGUE

“We can back out at any time,” Isaac says, squeezing my hand as we walk up the front steps to Marigold and Rocko’s house. When he stops, I do the same, and he tips my chin up so I’m really looking at him. “I mean it, Lydia. I love you, and I’ll come back for you once this apprenticeship is over next December.”

I grab him by his jacket and pull him close, then inhale the smell of him, which is a mix of crisp cologne and powerful, gorgeous man. “Stop. Please. I’ve told you one hundred and fifty times that you’re not going without me. This is an adventure.
Our
adventure. Now let’s get inside before all the food is gone.”

I start to walk away, but Isaac pulls me back, a
n uncharacteristic cheesy grin plastered on his chiseled, handsome face. “From what Deo has said, missing the meal may not be a bad idea at his mom’s place.”

I love the way Isaac has settled himself into our little family. I pull his face closer so I can nip his bottom lip. He lets out a low growl of pleasure, and I swat him back. “Don’t you dare listen to what Deo says about
anything
, or we’re going to have problems, Mr. Ortiz. Now come on!”

I never would have agreed to a formal going away party if Marigold hadn’t insisted, and she can definitely be as charmingly pushy as her son. When Isaac and I sprang the news on everyone that we were leaving for a year in Bogotá, Colombia, the timing lined up perfectly with the anniversary celebration she was throwing for Deo and Whit.

I’m glad that Marigold is the one handling it, since Mamá has been a wreck since I told her I was taking off.

I mean, she’s happy
—absolutely she’s happy.

But with Genevieve and Enzo both gone, and now me, she feels like she’s done something wrong.

“All these years, we’ve stayed together,” she said when we told her, mopping up tears with one of her good linen napkins. She had made
enchiladas de mole de xico
in celebration of my firm’s winning the case because of me and Isaac’s art show absolutely blowing the critics away. Which was why he got invited to Colombia. And Munich. And Zurich. And Sydney. Isaac had become an art world darling, and the world was open to him.

I didn’t want him to miss a single thing, and I didn’t want to miss
him
. So I arranged to see the world with the man I loved at my side.

“Mami, we’re not leaving you,” I said, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. “Not for good. We plan to come back. We plan to be together, all of us. But first, we need time to find our way.”

“I’ve never met a family as wonderful as yours, Dinah. And I would be just as miserable as Lydia if we didn’t see you.” Isaac got up and went to hug Mamá, who had chosen the night’s menu based on his preference. My heart went all squishy and warm seeing the way he treated my mother and the way she treated him.

Isaac had definitely melted away the last remnants of my ‘pitbull’ cred.

Papi finally broke through her sobs. “Dinah,
mi amor
, by some crazy luck we managed to raise an entire brood of smart, capable children who feel confident enough to fly the coop. Trust me, they’ll come home to roost. In the meantime, you and I can enjoy some peace and quiet. I don’t know if I even remember what that’s like.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, and my mother gave a damp laugh.

Isaac looked across the table at me and winked, and I thought,
Right here. This. I want this in another two or three decades. I want Isaac and I to have what my parents have.

“You look beautiful, if I haven’t already told you.” Isaac pauses at the door, and his words break through my memory.

“You did,” I say as I snuggle close and lay my head on his chest. “But I never get tired of hearing it. I love you.”

“And
that
, I never tire of hearing,
belleza
,” he says, just as the front door flings open and Marigold pulls us into her bracelet-adorned arms.

“I’ve been watching the clock all day, waiting for you two to show up!” she cries, leaving slightly wet kisses on both our cheeks. She pulls me to the side and whispers, “Just got this in. Try it out the next time you two take the skin boat to tuna town, if you know what I mean.”

She hands me a bag, and I hope I’m not blushing as beet red as I think I am. When I peek inside, I see the organic chocolate body paint I asked her about a few weeks ago. Isaac raises his eyebrows, but I mouth
later
to him, thank Marigold, and say a silent prayer that Isaac’s incredible mastery of English does not extend to dirty euphemisms. Gotta love Marigold, but she has memorized way too many freaky ways to refer to sex. 

The house smells the same as always
—incense, hemp and whatever crazy organic concoction Marigold has thrown in the oven. Deo was right to warn Isaac: her food is hardly edible. But I love this woman something fierce, so I will happily choke down whatever she puts in front of me, just like I did when I was a kid and my mom would bribe me to eat my veggies with the promise of a trinket from the treasure chest she put together for me.

I was a notoriously stubborn kid and a picky eater to boot. Usually the “treasures” were just erasers and small notepads, but I acted like they were bars of solid gold. My competitive streak would kick in and I’d
need
to earn a prize, so I was bound and determined to eat that damn broccoli or asparagus and collect my unicorn eraser, come hell or high water.

Tonight, the prize I get to leave with after I eat some questionable tofu casserole is Isaac. And our future together is worth more than gold. I think about how my mother pulled me aside after the third dinner I brought Isaac to and told me he was “the one.”

My mother’s always known what was good for me better than I ever did myself.

“It’s so good to see you, Marigold,” I say, pressing her in another tight hug. “Thank you so much for letting us crash your party for Deo and Whit.”

“Don’t even say that!” She shakes her head and all her long, wavy hair swishes on her back. “This is your party, too. I want all of my kids together today.” She presses her lips together and blinks back tears, fanning her face for a few seconds. “Whoa! I’m getting a little weepy. Blame it on the menopause, I guess! Hormones gone wild!”

Isaac does an amazing job of keeping a straight face, and I realize how much I’ll miss having Marigold and everyone else a phone call or quick drive away.

I don’t think any one of us—Beckett or Rodriguez—has ever taken for granted the unique bond and love that the matriarchs of our two families have for all of us. Both my mother and Marigold have considered all of us their children—even the boyfriends and girlfriends of our collective group.

Maybe that’s another reason we’ve all been so damn lucky in love: we have always had an abundance of it in our lives
, we always knew it was important.

Marigold pinches Isaac on the side. “
All
of my kids,” she adds with a wink.

Isaac smiles affably, but looks at Marigold with the same confusion he always throws Deo’s ways. I so get it. Being around the Becketts is like being at a Mad Hatter’s un
-birthday party or a pirate fight in Neverland.

“Thank you so much again,” I say, following Marigold into the house with Isaac clutching my waist like it’s a life preserver.

“Oh, come on, Lydia! You aren’t even going to ask me what I meant by that? You know I’m horrible at keeping secrets,” Marigold says, throwing her hands up. Her rows of gold bangles clink together as they slide to her elbows.

“That...that you’re happy to add Isaac to the family?” I guess. I love Marigold to pieces, but she’s an odd duck, so I don’t ever claim to understand what she’s alluding to.

“Well, that too.” She gives another flirty wink and pinches Isaac again. This time he chuckles good-naturedly. He’s warming up to our crazy ways, slowly but surely. “Of course I am. Handsome man like that?” She clears her throat and rocks back and forth on her feet like a little kid with a secret. “But the other thing...well, go in the backyard and see for yourself.”

I give Marigold a puzzled look, but she just keeps on grinning like she can’t wait for me to see.

I pass by the table of food loaded with strange nuts, grains, and veggies, tuck the body chocolate behind some hand-thrown pots to grab on my way out later, and slide the door to the backyard open.

I can’t believe it.

There are so many people; it’s a full-fledged reunion party.

My parents are dancing on the patio to the funky music playing. Rocko is manning the drink station and serving Grandpa Beckett an ice cold beer.

Deo’s carrying Whit across the grass over his shoulder like the goofy-ass caveman that he is.

Cohen’s being dragged over to help Caro, Cece, and Maren with some crazy new dance moves.

And even though they weren’t supposed to be in until Thanksgiving, Deo’s sister Hattie is playing bocce ball with her boyfriend, Ryan, and jumping up and down to cheer when she throws the winning ball. He grins and scoops her into his huge arms, kissing her quiet.

“I had no idea Hattie and Ryan would be here!” I cry. “I thought they didn’t have break until next month. Come on, babe, I’ll introduce you.”

But it’s when I’m walking toward Hattie to introduce her to Isaac and demand information about that stunning ring I can see sparkling on her fourth finger from across the yard that I nearly get trampled.

Twice!

First, I’m tangled and tripped by the arms and legs of my youngest sister, Genevieve, who hurls herself at me and yells, “Lyd!” As soon as she releases me and I catch a breath, I’m scooped up by our brother, Enzo.

“What...what...what?” is all I can stutter as I hug Gen close and kiss Enzo’s cheek. “What are you guys doing here? I can’t believe it! Enzo! You came home!”

My handsome brother shrugs and gives me his signature half smile. The one that’s always made the girls crazy. “Couldn’t miss the chance to say goodbye to you a second time, sis.”

My eyes brim with tears remembering how he bailed, leaving town without a goodbye to anyone and breaking our mother’s heart in the process. Gen and Adam
—who’d been there for his whole terrible fall-out with his ex—explained his reasoning, and, once his life settled down, he started to open up more and let us know what was going on in his enigmatic life.

But hearing about what he went through and listening to his explanations didn’t cut it for me. What I’d been missing, what I needed, was this
—the chance to hug my brother and see with my own eyes that he’s okay.

“How long are you in town for?” I ask him.

I glance over my shoulder and see Isaac standing back, giving me my space with my family, but smiling broadly at me—finding happiness in the fact that I have everyone I love in one space right now.

Every single person.

My cup seriously overfloweth.

“In and out trip. I’ve got to be back for work Monday,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. “But no worries, things are good. And I see things are good for you too, Lyd.” He gives Isaac a quick salute.

“Isaac come meet my brother, Enzo,” I say, smiling as they shake hands before I turn to my sister, pulling her aside. “And you!” I cry, grabbing her in another long hug. “How the hell did you manage to get in from Belgium? And where is your husband?”

Gen looks around, then leans in close and raises her eyebrows. “Don’t tell a soul. He ran to get back
-up sustenance, if you know what I mean.”

I stifle a giggle, knowing that Adam is going to get reamed if Marigold finds out that he brought additional food into the house for those who just can’t stomach her culinary creations.

“He should be back any time, though. He’ll be so happy to see you.” Gen looks me up and down, her gorgeous face glowing with happiness. “It’s so good to see you, Lydia. So, so good. Is that my dress?”

I turn self-consciously. “Yes. I’m sorry! I know I gave you shit about your clothes growing up, but guess what? You have awe
some taste, and I’m an old, stuffy ex-lawyer who owns nothing but gray suits and yoga pants. I promise you, I’m going on a shopping spree soon.”

“Not without me,” she says. Her smile is gorgeous and confident. When did my tantrum-throwing baby sister become such a beautiful, composed woman? “I’m glad you’ve realized my taste is awesome,
by the way. Remember how you used to say if a Vegas showgirl and every pop star from the 80s had a baby, she would dress like me?”

I grimace. “Shit. That was low. And now I can eat my words. And beg you to help me build my own wardrobe.”

“My pleasure.” Gen grins and yanks me close, her whisper tickling my ear like it always did when we were kids. “Cece filled me in on everything. Seriously, I’m just so happy for you. Is that—” She nods to Isaac and raises her perfectly arched eyebrows high on her forehead. “Is that your man?” When I don’t answer immediately, my sister points over toward Isaac, and I swat her finger down.

“It’s rude to point,” I hiss.

“Oh, a guy that hot? I’m gonna bet he’s used to it. Good catch, sis,” Gennie says, elbowing me in the ribs and laughing like a loon. “Isaac!”