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I’d caught her doing that a lot since we arrived. I imagined she was weighing me up, trying to work out what someone like me could possibly want with someone like Blake.
But then, out of the blue, she said, “Is it silly of me to be jealous of you for knowing Blake when he was just a child?”
“I, uh, I don’t really know how to respond to that.”
“Excuse me, losing my tongue like that.” She smiled and there was no malice there. “It’s just… you have this bond with him. I saw it the second you stepped out of the car. I’ve wanted nothing more than to know him in that way, but when Blake first came to us, he was angry and bitter. If I’m being quite honest, he was quite the handful.”
I smiled wistfully, imagining the seventeen-year-old Blake with his messy appearance and teenage boy attitude.
“What was he like when you first met him? He must have been what, twelve?”
I nodded. “He was adorable. He wore his Chucks constantly untied, and his hair was longer, messy, and always hanging over his eyes. But he had this goofy smile that, no matter what, made you feel better.”
When I met Miranda’s eyes, I was shocked to see the tear there. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She reached across the table and took my hand in hers, smiling. “These are tears of joy, Penny. When we found out that Blake was in foster care, I was sick with worry. You hear horror stories, reports of bad outcomes for children who age out of the system. But now, I can see that he wasn’t alone. He had you, sweetheart. You saved him.”
And he saved me.
For the next thirty minutes, I humored Blake’s aunt, answering questions and trying to fill in the blanks to paint a picture of teenage Blake for her. By the time the footsteps sounded in the hallway, Miranda had tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Thank you,” she said in a hushed voice. “And please know that I support Blake’s choice one hundred percent. I know he never loved Brittany. But I had hoped that over time, he would open himself up to the idea.
“He never got over losing you, Penny, and for that, I can only apologize. Ant may be misguided at times, but he really does have Blake’s best interests at heart. He just has a funny way of showing it.”
I was beginning to realize there was more than meets the eye with the Westons, and while I still didn’t trust Anthony’s actions or judgment, I had warmed to Blake’s aunt in a way I never thought possible.
“Penny, are you okay?” Blake’s gravelly voice reverberated through me, and a sense of contentment washed over me.
As long as we stuck together, we could survive anything.
I knew that now.
It had always been that way.
“Miss Wilson, I believe I owe you an apology.” Anthony Weston came into the kitchen and sat in the chair next to his wife. “Blake and I have reached an understanding. My nephew is an adult, and while I do not wholly agree with his decisions, they are his decisions to make. You have my blessing, and you do not have to worry about Miss Arnold any longer. I’ll see to it that she doesn’t bother you again.”
Miranda beamed as she took her husband’s rigid hand in hers, and I glanced back at Blake as he leaned against the doorjamb watching me.
He nodded, confirming the truth to his uncle’s words, and although I didn’t understand or care for the man’s tone, I knew it was as good as an apology, and it was the best I was getting today.
“Thank you, Mr. Weston,” I said. “I appreciate the sentiment, but please know that I love your nephew with or without your blessing.”
Anthony Weston shocked us all—he laughed. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it was a laugh nonetheless.
Blake moved behind me, and his hands came down on my shoulders. It was the first time I’d said the words, and I was saying them in front of his family. But it felt right.
I wanted them to know that I was standing by him no matter what. I loved Blake long before he fell into his life with the Westons, and I would still love him even if his uncle decided to cut him off.
“We should probably get going,” Blake said.
“So soon?” Miranda said.
“If we’re welcome, we’ll visit again soon.”
“You and Penny are always welcome. You know that, Blake. Right, Ant?” Miranda jabbed her husband in the ribs, and he spluttered, “Yes, yes. Was that really necessary?”
Miranda launched into giving her husband a verbal beating. Blake leaned down and whispered into my hair, “Ready to get out of here?”
