“Hi,
Dad.” I accept his hug. “This place looks great, is it
new?”
“They
just opened,” Dad tells us, as we’re led to our table.
“The owner has another one in the city. Your mom and I have
eaten there before, and it’s always delicious.”
“Sounds
great!” I take my seat, determined to stay upbeat. Just because
I’m not comfortable doesn’t mean I’m going to sulk
like a teenager for the rest of the night. Let my parents play
pretend all they like, I’m going to smile and nod—and
drink.
I
catch the waiter’s eye. “A bottle of wine, for the
table?” I suggest, and Mom happily agrees.
“Mmm,
everything looks wonderful,” she says, looking at the menu. She
reaches across and squeezes Dad’s hand. “Thank you for
picking this place.”
“I
wanted something special for my girls.” He smiles back at her.
“It’s not every day we get to celebrate twenty-five
wonderful years together.”
The
waiter returns with the wine and pours me a glass. “Oh no, keep
going,” I tell him when he pauses. “All the way to the
top.”
I
take a gulp, reminding myself again: cheery and upbeat, for Mom’s
sake at least. “How are things with work?” I ask,
steering for safe, neutral ground. He’s been in insurance for
thirty years now, and always has funny stories about the things
people try to claim.
Dad
gives a wry smile. “The usual. We’ve got a new
investigator in, and she’s turning up dodgy claims all over the
shop. One guy filed for ten thousand dollars, said his rare comic
book collection had been stolen; it turns out, his girlfriend burned
the whole lot up in smoke after he broke things off!”
I
laugh. “That’ll teach him.”
“Luckily
for us, he only had them covered for theft, not acts of revenge,”
Dad adds, smiling. “I didn’t realize those things could
be so valuable.”
“Oh
yeah, I knew a guy in college, he kept them all in the original
wrappers, wouldn’t even take them out to read.” I shake
my head at the memory. “I took one off the shelf to look once,
and he practically had a fit.”
“Why
don’t you tell your father about your new man?” Mom
interrupts. “Dee’s seeing someone,” she tells him
meaningfully.
Dad
looks surprised. “You are? That’s wonderful. Will we get
to meet him?” he asks, and I gulp. How about never?
“It’s
early days,” I say quickly. “Maybe later.”
Way
later.
“Well,
I hope everything works out,” Dad says. “Who knows? If
you’re lucky, you might just find yourself out to dinner one
day in the future, celebrating like this.”
He
beams at Mom. She beams back. I take another gulp of wine, miserable.
This is going to be a
long
night.
“Sorry
I’m late.”
Before
I can register the familiar drawl, I feel a reassuring hand on my
shoulder, and then, somehow, Will is standing by the table, dressed
smartly in a button-down and good pants.
I
blink. I haven’t had
that
much wine, so how . . . ?
“William Wyatt Montgomery,
it’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” he says, already
reaching to shake my father’s hand, and kiss my mother on the
cheek. “And congratulations on the anniversary. I wasn’t
sure if I was going to make it in time, I hope you didn’t
wait.”
“No,
Dee didn’t even say you were coming.” Mom looks
delighted. I manage a smile.
“I
didn’t want to get your hopes up,” I cover quickly,
shooting Will a confused look. “Umm, surprise!”
“It
certainly is,” Mom gushes. “Come, sit, let’s get
another chair. You’re right on time, we haven’t even
ordered yet.”
“Perfect.”
Will takes a seat at the hurriedly-added place beside me. He gives me
a questioning smile. “You doing OK?” he asks, and
suddenly, I am. Just like that, I’m not alone in this.
He’s
on my team.
My
tension unknots, and I relax, reaching to take his hand under the
table. I don’t know how he wound up here, but I’m glad to
see him. I squeeze, and Will squeezes back.
“Delilah
was just about to tell us what you do for work,” Mom starts
brightly.
“Mom,”
I start, warning, but Will chuckles.
“That’s
alright. I’m in the middle of a career change. I worked up on
Wall Street, but now I’m starting a new business, hand-crafting
furniture.”
“Wall
Street,” Mom echoes, looking pleased.
“Oh look, time to order,”
I interrupt, waving the server over before she can quiz him about his
401k. “Better decide what you want.”
Mom
starts deliberating, and I take the chance to lean in closer to Will.
“How did you know where we were?” I whisper, catching a
breath of his familiar scent.
“Lottie
told me. I figured you could use the back-up.” His eyes are
flecked gold in the candlelight, full of reassurance, and right now,
I could gladly lose myself in them and never come up for air.
“Thank
you,” I breathe, feeling overwhelmed with relief—and
something else, something that tugs and shimmers in my chest. I try
to pull it together, covering with a smile. “Seriously. You’re
saving my liver some serious damage.”
Will
flashes that heart-stopping smile. “Anytime.”
We
order, and too soon, Mom is back to quizzing Will about his career,
family, and everything else under the sun. I try to move the
conversation to other things, but the third degree continues even
after they bring our food. It’s delicious, but I can’t
focus, I’m too busy trying to run interference—and
checking anxiously if Will is getting tired of their enthusiastic
questions. Maybe this is my fault: if I’d brought other guys to
meet them before, maybe they wouldn’t be piling on like this,
but to my relief, Will seems perfectly at ease, talking business with
my dad and fending off questions from my mom about his family and
whether he loves kids.
“Leaving
finance,” my dad is saying, as the waiter clears our plates
away. “That’s a big risk.”
“Not
really,” I speak up. “His furniture is beautiful, and
he’s working on some great new designs. I can’t wait to
see how they turn out.”
Will
looks surprised, then bashful. “We’ll see. I’m
talking to some design stores in the city, I hope to maybe have a few
pieces carried by the fall.”
“No
maybe about it,” I say firmly, and he laughs.
“If
I had one tenth Dee’s ambition, I’d be set.”
My
mom gives a little sigh. “We’re hoping she’ll turn
some of that focus to other things,” she says meaningfully.
“Like a family, perhaps.”
I
tense, about to interrupt, but Will just rests a calming hand on the
back of my shoulders. “She’s got plenty of time for that,
don’t you, Dee? Right now, she’s building her future,”
he continues easily. “And it’s clear from the way people
talk about her around town, they think the world of her. You must be
very proud of everything she’s achieving.”
Mom
blinks. “We are. Of course we are.”
There’s
a pause. I look over to Will, touched. I can’t believe he’s
standing up for me like this, and even more, that he means it. I feel
a lump in my throat, and quickly take a sip of water.
“How
about dessert?” I say brightly, changing the subject.
Will
groans, “How are you still hungry?”
“It’s
a skill,” I grin back. “Years of training, nothing but
hard discipline to get me to this point.”
“I’m
going to have to up my game to keep pace,” he sighs.
“You’ll
live.”
Mom
gets up. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.”
She heads towards the bathrooms, and Dad waits a moment, then bobs up
out of his seat too.
“Just
need to check in on something.” He winks and disappears to go
talk to the server. Will and I are finally alone.
I
let out a long breath, and reach for my wine.
“How
are you holding up?” Will asks. I give him a faint smile.
“Better,
with you here. Thank you. You know, they’d be giving me that
quiz about future plans and family if you weren’t here to take
the bullet.”
“I like them,” Will
says. “They just want you to be happy.”
“Well,
they love you,” I tell him, then pause, suddenly feeling shy.
“I can’t believe you came,” I say softly.
Will
gives me a quizzical look. “You want me, I’ll be there.
That’s just the way this works.”
This?
I feel that shiver in my chest
again. I swallow, about to ask exactly what “this” is,
but my parents rejoin us at the table, and a moment later, the server
brings over champagne and a small, perfect chocolate cake, decorated
extravagantly with fresh flowers and fondant.
“For
the love of my life,” Dad announces, getting to his feet. Mom
gasps and claps her hands together, tears glistening in her eyes as
Dad makes his toast. “It was the best day of my life when you
agreed to marry me, and every day since then, I thank my lucky stars
I found you. Here’s to another twenty-five years together,
darling.”
The
other diners break into applause. He leans down to kiss her, and they
smile and whisper sweet nothings to each other. It’s the
perfect picture—except I know there’s way more to the
story, lurking just out of the frame.
Like
the woman he kept out in Charlotte, and the night when he finally
came clean: Mom throwing all his clothes out the window onto our
front lawn, and then sobbing for hours on the bathroom floor like
I’ve never seen before—and never want to witness again.
I
hate myself for feeling this way: looking at their happiness now and
seeing nothing but past pain. God, why can’t I just let it go?
Why am I the only one who remembers all the lies?
“I’ll
be right back,” I murmur, and bolt from my chair. I hurry to
the restroom and lock myself in a stall, trying to process all the
emotions whirling in my chest.
It’s
just a dinner, I tell myself. If this is the story they want to tell
themselves about their marriage, it shouldn’t matter to me.
I
take a deep breath, then another. Soon, I’m able to get my
emotions back under control. I rinse my hands under cold water and
touch up my makeup, and by the time I rejoin the table, I’ve
got a big smile plastered on my face—and I keep it there for
the rest of the meal. Only Will shoots me a couple of questioning
looks; Mom and Dad remain oblivious, feeding each other cake and
cooing happily until the check is signed and thankfully, this
anniversary is over.
We
say our goodbyes at the table, and I promise to come visit them soon.
“You too, Will,” Mom says hopefully. “We’d
love to see you again.”
“That
would be great.” He shakes my dad’s hand.
“Congratulations again.”
We
exit the restaurant. “So,” Will begins, placing a hand on
the small of my back, guiding me across the street to where he’s
parked. “Do you want to tell me what that was about—”
He
doesn’t get to finish; I’m already pulling his face down
to mine and kissing him with everything I have. He stumbles back,
surprised, but I loop my arms around his neck, kissing him hungrily,
desperate and searching.
“Wait.”
Will tears away from me. “Your parents . . .”
He quickly looks around, so I tug him back into shadows behind his
truck, hidden from view as I push him up against the passenger door
and claim his mouth again. This time, he doesn’t protest, just
sinks into the heat as I cling to him, pressing my body against every
inch of him, licking into his mouth and making him groan.
“Thank
you,” I tell him, when I finally have to come up for air. I
kiss along his jaw, nibbling at his earlobe. “Seriously, thank
you for doing this.”
I
feel Will chuckle against me. “If this is my reward, sign me up
for every anniversary, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.”
“Baby,
I’m just getting started,” I promise. His face is
shadowed in the darkness, but I can see the light in his eyes, strong
and bold with passion, that reckless hunger that’s ricocheting
in my veins, too. I catch my breath, my heart pounding. We’re
on the edge of something here, and all it’ll take is just one
small step to send me hurtling into the unknown.
I
touch a finger to his lips, and take that step.
“It’s time for you to
take me home.”
Will
drives me back to his place, silent in the dark with the windows
rolled down. I keep my hand in his, our fingers intertwined, trying
to ignore the wild racing of my heart and the knot tangled tight,
just beneath my ribcage.
I’ve
done this before, but somehow with him, it feels brand new. Every
look, every touch, full of possibility—and a risk too,
something deeper and more dangerous than I’ve known before.
This
matters.
He
matters.
He
leads me inside, and flips the lights on. “You want something
to drink?” he asks. “I have water, beer . . .”
“No,
thanks.” I stand there, just inside the doorway, watching him.
Will’s
expression changes, softer now. “We can talk, if you want,”
he says gently. “I don’t know what was going on at
dinner, but something’s up.”
I
shake my head. “I don’t want to talk,” I tell him,
swallowing back the knot in my throat. “I just want you.”
Will
exhales slowly, then he closes the distance between us and brings one
hand to my cheek. “Dee . . .” he murmurs,
still concerned, but I clench my jaw, determined.
“You’ve
made me some awfully big promises,” I say, smiling; flirty, the
way this should be. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving a
lady unsatisfied.”
Will’s
eyes flash, and his lips curl in a grin. “Never.”
“Well
then . . .” I slowly unhook the straps of my
dress and let it glide to the floor. I feel his eyes on me, devouring
me as I stand there in my bra and panties. The heat rushes through
me, a gorgeous anticipation, and I feel my nerves slip away under the
hunger in Will’s gaze.