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“You’ve never moved on. Not really.” She plucks another nacho from the plate and crunches it. She’ll have heartburn before we walk out of here; I know, I’ve been there. But she’s craving the chicken and cheese. And I know that feeling, too. “Neither of you.”
“We’ve tried,” I remind her.
“But it’s never worked.” She crunches another nacho. “And maybe that’s because you’re meant to be together.”
“I’m scared, Dani.”
“Let me ask you something.”
“What?”
“What’re you afraid of?”
Before I can open my mouth, she holds up her hand and goes on, “You could live the next six or twelve or twenty years without Truman. Or you could take a risk and love him and marry him and be happy together.”
“What if we hurt Ryle?”
“He’s a well-adjusted kid. You guys have made sure of that,” she says with wide eyes. “I think giving him both parents in a house, a sibling or two…I think it’s worth the risk, don’t you?”
“Marry him,” I repeat her words and blow out a nervous sigh.
“I see the way you look at him,” she tells me. “Not just the last week or two. Anytime you’re around him. I see it. Eric sees it.”
“Okay, there’s no question I’m in love with him,” I admit. “But I don’t know if he feels the same way.”
“It’s been six years. Seven since you told him you were pregnant.” She takes another drink and then presses her fist to her chest. “Ugh. Why are you letting me eat these?”
I laugh softly. “The pregnant mama wants what the pregnant mama wants.”
“And the heart wants what the heart wants,” she answers, and then she cackles when I roll my eyes. “Why else are you both still alone, Julie? Because you’re meant to be together.”
I take a deep breath and answer with a small nod.
“So, yes? You’re gonna marry him?”
“Whoa! Whoa!” I shake my head and grab my margarita again. “Let’s not get carried away. We’re hanging out. He’s kissed me a few times. No one’s said anything about marriage.”
“If he asked you tomorrow, would you say yes?”
“No, because I’ll be on the beach with you, and I’m not gonna accept a marriage proposal by FaceTime.”
“’kay.” She grins and rolls her eyes. “I’ll give you that one. But my point is, dragging your feet didn’t work. You’ve been dragging your feet through life since Ryle was born. Rush it, Julie. Rush in and grab Truman Woolff and be happy.”
“He got Ryle a remote control airplane,” I tell her, feeling a little bit giddy now about Truman, the father of my child. Truman—the man I never stopped loving. “They took it to the park to fly it today.”
“Very cool.”
“I can’t wait to talk to Ryle later.”
“And Truman.”
“Well, yeah, but I wanna hear Ryle tell me about the plane.”
“Do you have any Tums?”
“No. You don’t?”
“Ran out.”
