I sink into one of the chairs at the table, taking a long sip of coffee and watching her move around the kitchen with that grace she always has. My shirt hangs off her shoulder, legs bare except for those fuzzy socks with the cats on them. Outrageous. I’ve seen her in lace, and somehowthisis hotter.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she says without turning around.
“Can’t help it. You’re a vision.”
She huffs, but I catch the tiny smile she tries to hide as she turns and slides a plate in front of me.
“What time are we heading over to your parents’?” I ask.
“Dad said any time after ten. He wants help hauling the Christmas stuff down from the attic.”
“Right.” I nod, chewing slowly. “You think he’ll be in a decent mood?”
She snorts. “Define decent. He’ll be grumpy about the ladder, the cold, and probably the fact that you’re better at lifting things than he is now.”
“So…normal, then.”
“Exactly.”
Her dad is still a man of few words and smiles when it comes to me, even though I think he respects me in his own way. He doesn’t hate my guts. At least, I don’t think he does. That’s probably as close to approval as I’m ever gonna get.
Still, though. Today matters. It’s not that I need some ceremonial blessing to know I’m all in with Violet. I already know that. But this is her family. She’s given me everything—her time, her trust, her whole damn heart. The least I can do is look her dad in the eye and tell him how serious I am.
Violetand her mom are busy stringing the garland, working in sync as they carefully balance the glass baubles and tinsel. Their voices are light, filled with laughter, as they share inside jokes and reminisce about past Christmases.
I linger by the doorway, my hands in my pockets. It’s like I’m watching something that’s too intimate for me to fully understand. I really am grateful for it, though. This is exactly what I want with Violet. What I’ve wanted since I first laid eyes on her all those years ago. To be part of something real and whole.
But first, there’s one more thing I need to do.
I glance over to Violet’s dad, sitting at the dining table. Taking a deep breath, I cross the room and pull out the chair across from him.
“Mr. Larkin,” I say, keeping my voice low enough that Violet and her mom can’t hear over their chatter. “Got a minute?”
He looks up. “Suppose I do.”
I clear my throat, suddenly aware of how dry my mouth is. “I wanted to talk to you about Violet.”
His eyes, the same shade of green as hers, fix on me with that penetrating stare that always makes me feel like I’m seventeen again.
“What about her?” he asks, voice neutral but gaze vigilant.
I lean forward, clasping my hands on the table. “I know I haven’t always been what you wanted for her.”
He doesn’t deny it, just waits for me to continue.
“But I love her. More than I’ve ever loved anything in my life. And I’m asking for your blessing to marry her.”
The words hang in the air between us. He doesn’t react immediately, just studies me with an inscrutable expression, fingers tapping slowly on the tabletop.
“You hurt her before, when she was barely a young woman,” he says, voice low but sharp. “Badly.”
I nod, surprised that he even knows, but accepting the hit. His ire toward me makes more sense now. “Yes, sir. I did.”
“And how exactly do I know you won’t do it again?”
It’s a fair question. One I’ve asked myself a thousand times.
“I spent years learning what life is like without her,” I say, holding his gaze. “And I won’t survive losing her again.”
