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“I guess that’s pretty close to fair. What made you change your mind?”
I kiss her fingertips. “Part of it was your father. Today I saw where bitterness can lead a man, and I don’t want to find myself at the end of that road. But mostly, I did it for us.”
A slow smile curves her lips. “I love it when you use words likeus.”
I cradle her face in my hand.
When my marriage died, it took my ability to trust as collateral damage. I let resentment reign in my heart like a spiteful monarch huddled in his castle, determined to starve out the enemy until the bitter end.
But ever since I tasted whiskey on Alexis Kelley’s lips, a new tenant has taken up residence in my chest: a benevolent queen whose generosity knows no bounds.
And she has no room for bitterness.
“I love you, Alexis, and I’m so proud of you for having the courage to tell your father you’re not going to grad school.”
“Honestly, it felt really good to say it out loud.” She nods to the house. “Your ex-wife is still staring at us.”
I don’t even glance in Bonnie’s direction as I slant my lips over Alexis’s sweet mouth.
“Let the world stare,” I say. “I’m done hiding my love for you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Alexis
The last week of the fall semester is cold and rainy, but no amount of chill can dampen my enthusiasm.
Not only do I have the next eight weeks off before I have to return to Brookstone, I only have one semester remaining until I’m done with academia for good—or, at least until I decide how I want to make a living.
Right now, my post-graduation plan is to try my hand at everything and see what clicks. If I decide to attend grad school in the future, it’ll be at a school of my choosing, in a field I care about.
And I’ll have the full support of my family behind me.
But I’m getting ahead of myself...
“Are you sure all you have in here are trinkets?” Trevor asks. My bestie kindly agreed to help me carry the card catalog to the environmental studies building, wrapped in a shower curtain to protect it from the rain. “If this thing fell on your foot, it would crush your toes.”
“Then we definitely shouldn’t drop it.” I bump the automatic swing-door opener and wait for the path to clear before I start backing into the building.
Today’s the last day of Natural History, which means it’s time to present our cabinets of curiosity to the class. I was afraid the card catalog would be gone when we returned to the antique shop a week after my niece’s birth, but thankfully it was still there. I’ve dusted and buffed and varnished the old thing to a beautiful finish. I’ve labeled each drawer with the contents therein. As pointless as this elective has felt at times, part of me is glad to have something to show for it.
Not so glad that I’d want to take it again, and thank God I don’t have to.
I lead Trevor to the classroom where a few folks have already set up. Gavin looks up from his desk as we enter, flashing me a smile.
Trevor and I carefully set the card catalog down on a table. I thank him for his help in getting it here and shrug off my rain coat. I’m not surprised to see that I’m the only one who chose to lug a hunk of furniture into class. Everyone else seems to have opted for plastic or cardboard containers with slots, the kind my mom uses to store beads and other small charms that she uses for her sculptures.
In the couple of minutes that remain before the start of class, I remember to text my mom about our plans for Friday. I want to do something nice for Erica and Lorenzo, so I’m inviting my family over to my place for dinner. Gavin and Trevor have both offered to help me cook, and Mom already said she’d bring dessert.
After my niece, Olivia, was born, my mom finally let me in on just how involved she’d been throughout Erica’s pregnancy. Bringing over meals to reheat, taking Erica to doctor’s appointments, even dragging her old massage table out of storage to give Erica weekly prenatal massages. It was during one of these massage sessions that Erica broke down and told my mom she wanted to quit teaching. The rest came pouring out in the days and weeks that followed.
I’ve forgiven my sister for what she did to Gavin, and he’s forgiven her, too. We agreed there was no point in harboring resentment toward her or my father for things they did in the past when there s so much to be thankful for in the present.
I send off a quick text to my mom and then thumb over to my conversation with Erica. Our thread is essentially a long sequence of photos of Olivia. I scroll through them, de-aging my niece from three-months old to three-minutes old. At the very top is a photo I took of Erica holding Olivia at the hospital.
I’ve never seen my sister look as happy as she did the first time she held Olivia in her arms. The joy from that moment has followed her home. She’s not a completely different person, and I’d still describe her as prickly, but she doesn’t dig at people like she used to.
My dad, for his part, has fully committed to his new position as World’s Best Grandpa. Like the rest of us, he’s positively in love with Olivia.
