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I’m seated in my parents’ living room, staring at an invitation card while my parents watch me carefully.
“You’re looking at me like you’re expecting me to burst into tears,” I say dryly, looking up at them.
They shrug simultaneously.
You know how twins can sometimes have some form of telepathy? They can sense each other’s pain, guess what the other person is about to say, that kind of crap? Well, my parents are like that. I don’t know if it’s because they’ve been married for so long or because they love each other so much, but Thomas and Carla Lawson are like two halves of a whole. They’re each a part of the other, and I grew up wanting to find love like theirs one day.
I thought I had it with Matthew as a teenager. Then with Rush in college, and then Kris, Brock, Richard. Safe to say, I’ve dated plenty, and with each relationship, I’ve found myself becoming more and more of a cynic about love. My parents are lucky. Love like theirs isn’t for everybody, and I’ve accepted that.
My dad’s piercing brown eyes are fixed on me.
“He’s your first love. We’re not sure how you’re going to react.”
I notice all the gray hairs mixed with his short dark hair. He’s getting old; they both are. I feel a pang in my chest at the thought. I hate having to deal with my parents’ mortality. In my mind, they’re superheroes that will live forever.
“We just want to make sure you’re okay with this,” my mom adds. Her eyes are a delicate gray color. They look so different seated together—my mom so elegant and classy, my dad with his beer belly and balding head.
I’ve heard numerous stories about how there were some hiccups in the beginning of their relationship, mostly because my mother comes from an affluent family and my dad was just some young lost kid when they met. My father stopped by the coffee shop and met the girl he couldn’t leave behind, as he put it, so he moved to Arcola and they built a beautiful life together. They faced a lot of criticism, but they transcended it all.
“Of course I’m okay with it. Matt and I are history. We broke up a long time ago. You can’t still expect me to be pining over him,” I tell them.
“We don’t, but we all know there are underlying issues with regard to this new development that we need to talk about,” Dad states.
I get to my feet.
“No, we’re not doing this. I have a lot to do. I’ve barely finished unpacking.”
I finally put my big girl pants on and moved back to the town I grew up in. Two weeks after I tried and failed to convince myself that LA was the right place for me to stay, I called my dad and informed him that I had made a decision.
It wasn’t a bad idea to start working my way up again from my roots. I drew a firm line at living with my parents, however. They helped Noah and me get a two-bedroom apartment near Noah’s new school. He started there a few days ago.
My son took it pretty well when I told him we would be moving here. I had been scared he would have a meltdown or freak out about it, but he was surprisingly chill.
According to him, he didn’t have a lot of friends in LA. I thought long and hard about it and decided Arcola would just have to be a fresh start for the both of us. I would have reconsidered my move, however, if I knew the Cranes would be in town.
I’m not sure why I’m so surprised. Of course they’re here. The family practically founded this place. They’re in control of almost everything, from the department stores and small businesses to real estate. There are several billboards bearing their family name in bold letters. When I was younger, I used to joke that the town might as well be named Crane. That’s how influential they are here.
I guess it makes sense that Matthew would want to get married here. It’s just a cruel twist of fate that I happened to move back here during this time. There will be no avoiding him. Any of them.
“Are you going to the wedding?” my mom questions quietly.
“No! I mean, I don’t know,” I say with a groan.
The disadvantages of living in a small town like Arcola are that rumors and gossip spread like wildfire. I’m a hundred percent sure the Cranes already know I’m here.
He already knows I’m here.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before I moved back?” I demand accusatorily. “And don’t even try to deny anything. I know you knew. Why didn’t you guys tell me?”
They’re silent for a few seconds. Soon enough, my dad speaks up.
“We’re sorry, honey. We thought about it and just thought this was the best thing for you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I’m trying really hard not to lose my shit because this is seeming more and more like a ploy with each passing second.
“It means it’s time, Christine.”
