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Abel sighs. “He showed me what I needed to see. My dad calling this morning—I let it make me second guess myself. He only calls when he needs something. This time it was money to buy food at the commissary, but I know he’s lying. His caseworker’s filled me in on all the shitty details, but basically my dad is playing his usual games. It’s sad and it hurts, and it was a reminder of the fucked-up situation I grew up in. Made me worry I was going to fuck this up.” He pulls me closer. “Us.”
“Your fear of history repeating.”
“Yes. And just—this old, awful idea that because my family’s such a fucking mess, I could never have a family of my own. I needed to help them first, because they needed it so badly. Or at the very least, I needed to not make another mess the world didn’t need.”
My heart breaks for this man. “Abel, baby. That’s a really dark cloud to live under. Especially when deep down you want to fill up a minivan with a hot wife and some kids.”
He laughs. “I’ve got the hot wife. Or I hope I do.”
“What did Dad say?”
Abel looks down at me. I’m in his shadow now, the sun hot on his back. I feel the heat seeping into his shirt. He’s sweating.
But he doesn’t move. He keeps me in the shade. Keeps me cool, even if it means he gets burned to a crisp.
“He reminded me that I’ve been in love with you for along time, Jenny. I was always thinking about you. Always trying to do little things that would make you smile. But I also didn’t want anyone catching on, so I did my best to be subtle.” He shakes his head, a smile on his lips. “Turns out I wasn’t very subtle at all. Joe reminded me of that fact. Showed me all the little, and then the not-so-little, things I’ve done over the years for you. Things my dad never would’ve done for anyone in a million years.”
I pull him closer. “You needed extra proof that you aren’t like him after y’all talked. That makes sense. You didn’t realize you were creating your own pattern all this time—a pattern of love. Hope. Exceptional kindness. God, Abel, that is beautiful.”
His voice is husky when he replies, “Joe is good.”
“The best.”
“I know none of it makes up for the way I acted. But I hope you can forgive me. I hope you believe me when I say I’ve always wanted to make you smile, and I’ll keep trying. For the rest of my life, I will bust my ass to make you happy, Jenny.”
Happy tears. Ah, yes.
“I’m okay with bumps in the road,” I say thickly. “It’s you shutting down that I can’t handle. Disappearing.”
“Everything I’m learning about myself—about us, our story—that’s helping me figure out how to be better. I’m working on it. I was just telling my dad to get therapy, and I’m going to get some too.”
This man.
He really would do anything for me. And I would do anything for him.
“I know you’ll work hard for us, Abel. You’ve worked hard your whole life. Now I can’t wait to share my life with you.”
I hear his breath catch. He’s crying.
I’m crying. I’m tilting up my face and he’s leaning in tokiss me. We laugh when Tai licks the undersides of our chins. Cher steps on my feet, eager to join the party.
“Marry me,” he says.
My chest contracts. I pull back. “What?”
“For real. Be my wife. It’s way too soon. I get it. But it’s also not nearly soon enough.” He falls down on one knee right there in the sand. Grabs my hand. That’s when I see he’s got the ring held up between his thumb and forefinger. “Be my wife. For real. Pick out a white dress and a venue and make me your husband.”
My heart bursts, even as my eyes prickle with tears. “You already are my husband.”
“The budget is no budget.”
“What if I really do want to elope?”
Shaking his head, he slides the ring onto my finger. “Now you’re just talking crazy. You want to fill up that minivan with kids, we gotta get married. For real. In front of all our friends and our family. Say yes. Please?”
“Yes.” I cover my mouth with my hand. “Oh my God, Abel,yes!”
We make out for a while. Until I’m panting, resisting the urge to climb my fake husband—soon-to-be-real husband—like a tree.
