Page 125 of Turning Back

He flicks the lights on and the spare bedroom transforms into a baby’s nursery.

“What?” I say, stunned. “This is… This is…”

“All your stuff from the secret room up in the attic apartment. Our stuff, right? Your Christmas tree. Your record player. Your stupid vintage suitcases. I want Adley to know how fucking great you are. How original and perfect you are. I want her to be able to appreciate you. My father never gave me that. He never let me appreciate my mother for who she is. But I appreciate her now. I’m not gonna make that mistake with you and Adley.”

I hug him hard for a few moments. He is perfect. Way too perfect for me, but just the right amount of perfect for Adley.

“I have a lot to live up to,” I tell Quin.

“No,” he says, taking my hand. “You be you. That’s all I need.”

I kiss him. I place both hands on his strong shoulders and kiss him. “And you be you,” I whisper into his mouth. “We’ll be us.”

“I like the sound of that,” he whispers back. “Now tell me what you think of this room. I need feedback.”

I laugh and then turn around to take it all in.

The crib is something I would’ve picked it out. White. With a giant mobile hanging over it. Little bees and butterflies bob and dip their way around an off-kilter circle. The bedding is yellow and white. And one whole wall is painted with chalk paint. There are giant hand-drawn dandelions on that wall. There’s even those little fluff things blowing in a make-believe breeze.

“Look up,” he says.

I know what’s there before I look, but seeing my drawings on the ceiling—my handwritten I’ll Fly Away song—it stuns me. “What have you done?” I whisper, barely daring to breathe as I slide down his body and stand there, hand on my heart in disbelief.

“I really hated that nursery for Adley Bric decorated. I was only pretending to like it so you’d be happy. So I made a new one at my house. I went to every antique store in Denver. And I pried the sheetrock off the secret-room ceiling and took it to a local artist to replicate. He drew the flowers too. I was gonna lie and say that was me, but I’m way too boring for that. You’d never buy it.”

Boring. I laugh. “No, Quin Foster. You’re the farthest thing from boring that ever existed. You might be way too exciting for me.”

“I knew Adley would live here eventually. I didn’t know how long that would take, so I’m glad it came sooner rather than later.” He shrugs. Like this is just what boring, normal men do for their crazy girlfriends.

He turns me so he can see my face. “I love you, Rochelle Bastille. I’m done sharing you with the world. You’re mine and you’re gonna marry me. You’re gonna have to settle for boring, so I’m really sorry about that. But I’ll try my best to make you happy.”

I kiss him, whispering, “I love boring. Your brand of boring is exactly what I need.”

Chapter Thirty-Five - Quin

Once upon a time, I was unhappy.

I just didn’t realize it.

I had no idea how much I was missing out on until Rochelle and Adley came back.

But they’re not why I’m happy now. Other people can’t make us happy. Only we can make ourselves happy. Rochelle and I faced our fears, just like Smith and Chella did last year, and our lives are so much better because of it.

The door buzzes.

Rochelle and I ignore it. We know who it is. I’m setting the table. This is the first time I’ve ever used this table and I can’t think of a better time to break it in than for Christmas dinner with the people I love. Rochelle is busy with the food. Chella is bringing dessert, so she didn’t have to bake.

We went and got our Christmas tree last weekend. All the way up to the National Forest. Chella and Smith came too. Watching Smith use an ax was almost the highlight of my day.

Almost.

My highlight was realizing this is the fourth time Rochelle and I have done this little trip and the second time Chella and I have done it. Adding in Adley and Smith created something new, and we don’t miss the past. In this small way, we’re happy to share.

It’s an old tradition done a new way.

Of course, Chella and Smith’s tree is filled with sophisticated ornaments and looks like it belongs in a department store.

Our tree looks like it came out of my grandma’s attic. But hey, that’s just how we roll here at the Foster house.