Page 65 of The True-Blue Romance

“It is,” Joey agrees, his hand finding purchase at the back of my head, fingers tangling in the waves of my hair. Our loved ones keep talking, sharing beers and wine, and Savannah eats hummingbird cake, barefoot in the grass with flowers tied up in her hair. I’ve found home, and it’s been where I was all along. How lucky can a man be?

EPILOGUE

JOEY

Lee is shaking like a leaf in the passenger seat.

All I can do is hold him, be the best I can be for him. It took him a few excruciating weeks to make the decision, but today we’re at the care facility for him to say goodbye to his father and sign paperwork to make a proxy at the care facility his healthcare surrogate. Today Lee is retiring. Maybe some might find it shitty, some might not understand, but after the horror Lee’s father put him through, I’m proud of my man for making the decision that’s best for him. No one deserves to have to care for their abuser in the end if they don’t want to. No one. Lee owes his father nothing.

Lee takes a deep breath, steels himself, then exits the car without looking back. I hurriedly get out, almost twisting my ankle in the process, and chase after Lee into the care facility. We’d called ahead and let them know the purpose for today’s visit, so they all treat us a little kinder than they usually do. Lee’s shoulders are up to his ears, back a straight line as he marches toward his father’s room.

I resist reaching out to take Lee’s hand, not knowing if my touch would give him courage or break him in half. Lee wipes a hand across his face before pushing into the room. Lee’s father is white haired and frail looking, eyes yellowed as he angles his face toward us. There’s nothing there in those eyes—no remembrance, no memory of the son he spent most of his life terrorizing.

“I’m not hungry,” Alfred says.

Lee clenches his fingers. “That’s fine.”

His father turns back toward the television, eyes glazed over and unknowing. Lee won’t say what he has the right to say. He won’t be awful or unkind because that’s not Lee. Instead, he sits in the seat beside his father, while I stand by the door, trying to make myself appear unassuming. Lee looks less like he’s going to cry and more like he wants to punch something, which isn’t a look I’m familiar with seeing on his gorgeous face. After ten silent, hard minutes, Lee stands and moves toward me.

“I’m sorry,” Lee’s father says, then turns back to the television. I don’t know if he’s apologizing for all the years of abuse, for the drinking, or just because he thinks in his broken brain that it’s something he’s supposed to do, but it’ll never be enough.

Lee leaves the room without another word and finally tangles his fingers with mine.

Maisie is waiting for us at the front desk. She tilts her head back toward her office, and we follow her in. It takes Lee four swoops of his signature to make a proxy at the care facility his father’s healthcare surrogate, with some parameters that Lee figured would make his father happy.

“This isn’t rare,” Maisie finally says when Lee is done signing. “I’ve done a lot of these over my years.”

“People won’t understand,” Lee mumbles, mouth tight, jaw clenched. “But it’s my decision.”

“That it is. I wish you the best.”

“Thank you.” Lee tightens his grip on my hand and all but drags me out of the care facility. The warm August sunlight washes over us, sweat already dotting my neck, just under my shirt.

“Okay?”

“Yes, I’m finally free. I feel good. Let’s go open the restaurant.”

“Are you sure?”

Lee shoots me one of his aw-shucks smiles that’ll always threaten to send me to my knees. “I’m sure. I’m okay, I promise.”

We leave the care facility behind without looking back.

“Is this all right?” Lee asks as he dissects his appearance in the full-length mirror of our bedroom. “You know I hate dressing up.”

“You dressed up for our wedding,” I say from the edge of the bed as I tie my dress shoes.

Lee shoots me an unimpressed look. “Obviously that was different.”

“You look beautiful. My handsome boy,” I promise with a wink. Lee flushes, tugging at the light blue button-down that fits him perfectly, tucked into the black dress pants that I had hemmed to fit the length of his legs without skimming the tops of his shoes. “The ring really tops the entire outfit off.”

Lee looks down at his hand, studying the ring we got just a week or so ago after shopping around for a while. He wanted a ring for work, as well as one for special occasions. The ring for work is one of those black silicone rings that blue-collar workers favor. But the ring for special occasions is a yellow-gold band. Engraved on the inside are the words true blue, and something about that makes me feel a little more emotional than I ever could have expected.

“Are you nervous? About opening the restaurant?”

“Kind of? Benji won’t be there full-time since he’s in culinary school, and I’ve really sort of come to like that kid. He’s a good sous-chef when he listens.”

“It’s going to be a busy rest of the year.”