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“Because that was the day.”
“The day?”
He leans forward so he can look at me. “That was the day I noticed you. That I really saw you.”
“You saw me?”
“Yeah. You were young. It was not something I would have pursued. But I saw the strength you had in keeping the family going.”
“I did my best.”
“I fell in love with you right then. And I didn’t forget you. You were always in the back of my mind. It was so pure, that love I felt. I held on to it even though I couldn’t show it in any obvious way. I knew that my dad—that the things he did, were something I’d never let happen to you. Because you deserved everything. No one should ever dim that light in you. Especially not me.”
I’m quiet. I never knew that Drew thought about me. That maybe he’d loved me all these years. “And then we got to the wedding.”
“I was terrified. Because you landed in my lap. And I was not the man who could ever protect you. Not where I was then.”
“But you learned.”
He draws me closer to him. “Yes, I learned.”
He kisses me. Not the frantic one in the shed, or the crazed ones in those early days in his office. Or even the ones that led to that first weekend we were together.
It’s a kiss of comfort. Of knowing each other.
Of safety.
Of trust.
“I love you, Drew Daniels,” I whisper against his mouth.
“And I love you, Ensley James.”
We gaze at each other, reveling in the same love we’ve known for months now, when the light snaps on.
Nurse Candace stares at us, her mouth a line. “Well, this is disgusting.” She walks right back out, muttering, “She just had his baby. Kissing her sister.”
Lila’s eyes pop open, and when she sees us in our embrace, she shrugs. “That’s our family. Keeping it screwed up.”
“It is,” I say to her. “It really is.”
Epilogue
ENSLEY
Wedding bells peal as Drew and I wait in the church’s foyer for the ceremony to begin. Drew is best man, but he’s left the groomsmen’s dressing room to wait with me for the moment when Maria and Vera usher in the unusual members of the wedding party.
“They’re crazy,” I say.
“Completely crazy,” Drew concurs.
“What are the odds this works perfectly?”
“Zero. There is no chance.”
Oh boy. I should have worn flats. I check my sparkly silver platforms. They perfectly match my belt and a tiny hat positioned in my hair. My dress is coral, long-sleeved for a February wedding. It has fringe hanging off the bottom. It’s smashing. I found it for twelve dollars at a thrift store in downtown Atlanta.
But this is no outfit for what is about to happen.
