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“She has good taste.”
Holden busts out laughing, but the doorbell ringing cuts it off with a choked sound. His face pales slightly. “They’re here.”
“I’m on it!”
Amelia breezes past us for the door and comes back with Margaret and Reginald. He’s carrying a bottle of sparkling cider and she has a bouquet of sunflowers. They’re introduced to Dad and they hug Beatriz as if she were an old friend instead of a former employee.
My hand goes to the box in my pocket. I wasn’t expecting a larger audience. My nerves stretch tighter until I see Holden with Margaret and Reginald, talking and smiling easily, and I realize the night just got more perfect.
Dinner is served, and we all sit and pass around wild rice, asparagus in melted butter, warm rolls, salad, and grilled halibut that Dad cooked to perfection.
But the food is almost tasteless in my mouth. Every bite, every minute takes me closer to the moment. I look across the table at Holden. He’s sitting between his uncle and Beatriz. He catches me watching and I fully expect him to do something suggestive with an asparagus spear. But he’s behaving himself. Subdued but in a peaceful way.
Do I want to ruin that? Freak him out? Make him run for the nearest exit?
I force myself to calm down before I freak out. From my right, Margaret touches my wrist and gestures at the empty chair at the head of the table, opposite Dad.
“Are we waiting for one more person?”
My stomach clenches and Amelia bows her head for a moment.
“My wife, Nancy—River and Amelia’s mom—passed away three years ago,” Dad says. “Cancer.”
Holden looks stricken. “Fucking hell, I should have told you…”
“Not at all,” Margaret says. “There is so much for us to catch up on. I’m very sorry for your loss. All of you.”
“Thank you,” Amelia says. “After dinner, I’ll show you some photos of her. If you’d like.”
Uncle Reg smiles. “We’d like that very much.”
The heavy moment passes and settles into something warm and deep, and the conversation flows easily with our mother now included and so much more than an empty chair.
But time feels like its rushing out from under me. I take a sip of water; my throat’s parched, and before I know it, the dishes are cleared. Coffee and dessert—Beatriz’s homemade Pé-de-moleque—squares of peanuts and molasses are served. Amelia kicks me under the table.
I heave a breath and start to rise when Dad beats me to it.
“Typically, we do this at the beginning of the meal, but better late than never.” Dad stands and holds up his water glass. “To Margaret and Reginald. Holden has become such an important part of our family, and we’re so happy to have you here too. To family.”
We all raise our glasses. Dad smiles at me proudly. Over the last year, we’d had a lot of talks about my relationship with Holden. It took Dad some getting used to the idea, but he wasn’t homophobic. Like me, he thought football had a default setting and his desire to see me excel at the sport clouded everything else. My happiness with Holden, he said, was better than any Super Bowl victory.
“Although I wouldn’t mind one of those either,” he’d teased.
I smile and watch Holden endure Beatriz smacking a kiss on his cheek. He’s surrounded by love, and I know there’s a part of him that still doubts it’s all real.
My nervousness fades as the surety of my love for him rushes through me. I could wait five more years, but why? There will never be anyone else for me but him. I’ve known this since the beginning. Holden can say no to me, but at least he’ll never wonder if my love is temporary. Never fear I’ll abandon him or leave him out in the cold.
I clear my throat and stand up. “I have something to say.”
All eyes are on me and Amelia is already pressing a napkin to her mouth.
“Firstly, I’m not good at making speeches. But tonight turned out to be better than I’d ever imagined. Reginald and Margaret, thank you for being here. Thank you for loving my Holden the way he deserves to be loved.”
Holden bows his head, shaking it slightly.
“You do,” I say to him. “You deserve so much, baby.”
I push my chair back and come around to his side of the table. Holden stares, his green eyes wide and disbelieving. I get down on one knee and a sob erupts from Amelia, but she stifles it quickly. Beatriz’s hands are clasped to her heart, tears already streaming.
