AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Later, when Bailey’s in bed and I’m guiding my parents through the barbershop to head back to their hotel (they’re treating themselves to a real shower while they’re in town), my mom stops and gives me a tight hug. “I like him,” she whispers in my ear.
I smile. “So do I.”
“Good.” She hugs me once more, then threads her fingers through my father’s and heads across the road to the hotel. I walk back through the barbershop and into my home, and I find Des alone on the couch, reclining with one arm curled around his head. He shifts on the sofa to give me enough space to lie down in front of him, and I find myself wrapped up in his warmth—and I know I’ll never be alone again.
EPILOGUE
DES
After so manyyears as an outsider, I never realized how good it would feel to have a home. And when the holidays roll around, I find myself surrounded by dozens of people who treat me like one of their own.
Mia, Bailey, and I arrive at Grant and Fiona’s house bearing bottles of wine and bags of snacks. We’re ushered inside with hugs and kisses, into the chaos of the gathered crowd.
Along with everyone who was in Lovers’ Peak for Thanksgiving, there’s Dorothy, Margaret, and their partners Eli and Hamish. There’s Lottie, the Viceroy women’s mother, there’s Mia’s parents, and all the children. For the first time in my life, I find it easy to talk to various people. I don’t feel like I stick out at this gathering, like I don’t belong.
We eat way too much food, and I spend more time than I’d like to admit just watching Mia interact with her friends. She’s bottled sunlight. She’s energy and fire in human form. She’s magic.
“I’ve always wanted a man to look at Mia the way you’re looking at her,” Earl says, taking a seat next to me with a slight grunt of effort. He puts his drink down on the floor beside his leg, smiling at me. “You care about her.”
“Yes, sir.”
“She’s more fragile than she looks, our Mia,” he says, eyes drifting toward his daughter. “You sure you can handle her temper? You can treat her right even when she infuriates you?”
I huff, meeting Mia’s eyes from across the room. She smiles at me, and it’s like the warmth of the sun’s rays on my skin. “Is it crazy to say that her temper is one of the things I like most about her?”
Earl barks out a laugh. “Yes, son. It is.”
I chuckle. How can I explain to this man that when Mia is angry at me, when she’s snippy and sassy, it’s a reminder that I exist—that I matter. I’ve spent so many years drifting through life, being on the outside, but that’s impossible with Mia. She drags me by the collar and forces me to be present, to be here—with her.
“You’ll take care of her,” Earl says, and it isn’t a question.
“I love her,” I reply.
He smiles softly at me, then shakes my hand. “Welcome to the family, Desmond.”
“Des! Yoohoo! Des!” Irene pokes her head around the corner of the kitchen and beckons me. “We need someone nice and tall to get something from the upper cabinets.”
“Duty calls,” I tell Earl, who just laughs.
In the kitchen, I find Irene, Dorothy, Margaret, Lottie, Agnes, and my grandmother crowded around the island. I’m put to work opening a cabinet over the fridge, where the bottles of alcohol reside. I pull them all down as Dorothy hoots and starts hunting through cabinets and drawers for a cocktail shaker.
Irene giggles, then pats my arm. “Thank you, honey.”
I’m run out of the kitchen shortly afterward, but my chest still feels warm. That has never happened in all my childhood at my aunt’s house. No one would ever specifically searchmeout and askmea favor. As I wander back to the living room and take a seat next to Mia, slinging an arm behind her shoulders, I start to wonder if that’s what belonging is all about.
It’s not just accepting affection from others—it’s being seen. It’s being important enough that someone is angry with you. It’s doing favors for people. Being here is being part of something bigger than myself.
Mia puts her hand on my thigh and leans into me, then turns her face to mine. I lower my head and kiss her softly, my heart growing three sizes in my chest.
“Ew! Mom! Des! Don’t be gross!” Bailey comes stomping toward us and throws herself on the sofa beside Mia, scowling at us. “Kissing is disgusting.”
“You won’t always think that,” Mia warns.
“Yes, I will,” Bailey replies emphatically. “I’m never going to kiss anyone, ever.”
I chuckle, letting my thumb stroke over Mia’s shoulder. A kid comes running into the living room and calls Bailey’s name, and she’s off again.
“Will you sleep at our place tonight?” Mia asks quietly.
