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“Maybe.”
“Real snacks? Not just peanuts?”
“It’s usually one step above peanuts.”
“So…walnuts?” Her eyes light up with an idea. “Wait. Let’s tell the flight attendants it’s our honeymoon! We’re newlyweds! That’s when you get the really good stuff.”
I nearly choke, wondering if I’ve somehow broadcast what’s been on my mind all night and all morning. Did I accidentally mutter a proposal when I was zoned out in the cab?
“Whatever you want,” I say, appeasing her right as we arrive on her parents’ doorstep. “But you have to do this first.”
It’s important that we’re here. Last night, Whitney dumped two decades’ worth of baggage on her parents, and they deserve to have a turn to speak and make amends. If that’s not what they intend on doing, I’ll assure her it’s fine.
I’m her family now.Chapter Twenty-FiveWhitneyDerek knocks with a heavy fist before I can chicken out.
Dishes clatter in the kitchen and then my mother’s voice calls out from the other side of the door.
“Just a minute,” she says quickly, the deadbolt rattling.
My heart is liable to explode. I’m sweating, though maybe that’s just from the box of warm donuts I’m cradling against my chest.
The door opens, and I hold my breath, knowing this is the moment that matters. My parents either listened and took to heart what I said last night or they didn’t. Either they’re willing to make a change, or this conversation is DOA.
My mom sees Derek first and her brows shoot up in surprise. She offers him a brief smile before turning to look at me standing there beside him. For two seconds, neither of us moves. Then her gaze flits to my chest and she shuffles on her feet, adjusting her grip on the door.
“I’m here to get my luggage,” I say quickly, guarding myself against the worst possible scenario. “And to drop these off.”
I hold out the donuts and her forehead wrinkles in distress. “You’ll come in for a second though, won’t you? Or do you need to get to the airport right away?”
I tell her I can stay for a little while.
“Good. Come in. Come in and we can talk for a second. I think there are a few things that need to be said.”
Derek says he’ll wait for me down on the street and tells my mother it was nice to see her again. I’m glad he’s not coming in. The next few minutes will be hard enough without an audience.
Dad is sitting on the couch with his coffee, and though he’s already showered and dressed for the day, he looks like hell. Dark circles sag under his eyes and when he sees me, he only offers a small pleading smile, like he’s not quite sure how I’ll react to him.
I want to go straight to him and give him a hug, but I hover near the door, waiting. My mom isn’t sure what to do with the donuts. She holds the box in her hands. My dad clears his throat, looks into his coffee for advice, and then chances a quick glance over at me. It breaks my heart to see them like this.
I never wanted to hurt them, and I think that’s why it took me so long to gather the courage to speak up and ask for what I needed.
My mom eventually sets the donuts on the counter and then walks into the living room, flattening a hand over her hair and then her dress. She turns to look at me and speaks suddenly.
“I don’t really know how to start,” she says, frowning at the ground in front of my feet. “I know you don’t have long, so maybe we should just cut to the chase? Yes?”
She looks to my dad for backup and he nods.
“Whitney,” she continues with a weak voice. “I want you to know that your dad and I are sorry for how we’ve handled things. After what you said last night…well, we got to talking and we realize we messed up—” She looks away and takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. When she turns back, there are tears brimming in her eyes. “Your dad and I, we love you very much, and we’ve done a poor job of showing you that sometimes. You were always our easy child—good grades, never got in any trouble when you were growing up—and I think, in some ways, we took you for granted.”
Pretty soon, there’s not a dry eye in the room.Fifteen minutes later, when I return to the sidewalk, tears drying on my cheeks, I feel a hundred pounds lighter. Like if I’m not careful, I might just float away on a breeze. Derek’s leaning against the brick wall beside the door, and when he sees me, he straightens up and pockets his phone.
Without a word, he walks straight for me, takes my luggage out of my hand, and hugs me. His hugs are my favorite thing about him. More than his kisses. More than anything we did in that hotel room last night. His body eclipses me and it’s as if I’ve just slipped behind an impenetrable shield. The world can’t hurt me as long as he’s there.
