by J. L. White
With the front door bolted and the new window locks Jack installed for me, but you can understand that, right?
I do my best to clean out and close that big ol’ wound from my dad. After a few initial counseling sessions that feel absolutely pointless, I finally start to connect with my therapist and we begin to make progress. First, she gives me permission to grieve the fact that I got stuck with the dad I did and will never have the kind of relationship with him I see my friends having with their amazing dads. That’s the first thing. Then I learn to recognize my relationship with him isn’t ever going to be something I feel great about, and it may sting and throw me off balance sometimes as I go through life, but he doesn’t have to control me so much anymore either. She walks me through mental exercises about how I’ll act the next time he resurfaces, which get less and less scary every time I do them. Then she helps me see that there’s something hard-wired in us humans to need love and acceptance from our parents, no matter who they are, and she helps me not hurt so much over the fact that I’ll never have that from him.
I find a new level of peace inside myself. It’s one more scar I’ll always carry around, but it’s not oozing blood and puss anymore, sorry to be gross about it.
And I just summed up three months of counseling for you. You’re welcome.
I did file a restraining order against my dad, and spent about a day feeling a little nervous about it, but mostly I felt empowered. I still do.
And then there’s Jack.
Today, I come home from work and walk into my kitchen to find something on the island that stops me in my tracks.
It’s a beautiful dragonfly figurine maybe six inches across, with great wings of cut glass and a body made of polished silver. I slowly go over and pick it up with both hands, running my thumbs over the smooth wings. Then I notice the little piece of paper it was sitting on. It’s a hand-written note that reads: “Be the dragonfly, yo.” There’s a little arrow indicating I should flip the note over. The back says: “P.S. That cake was delicious.”
I look over to where the raspberry layer cake used to be and see he’s eaten the last piece.
I smile.
In fact, as I look back to the dragonfly, I’m more than smiling. My heart is lifting me right off the ground. Something in me clicks. I feel it. I damn near hear it.
Then I hear the door of Jack’s truck close out front.
I set the note and dragonfly on the counter, then hurry through the door to greet the man who understands me better than anyone. There he is, coming up the walk. Tsunami Jack. He still sweeps me away, but I don’t fight it any more.
I run up and jump into his arms. He laughs and holds me as I wrap my arms and legs around him. He tries to put me down but I hang on. He chuckles and squeezes me hard. “Hey, you. I take it you liked the dragonfly.”
I let him put me down, but I stay close, my arms still around his waist, and look up at him. I can’t stop smiling, and seeing the way he smiles back at me only makes my heart swell.
I open my mouth and let myself say the words I’ve felt in my heart for a while now. “Marry me, Jack.”
He blinks at me in shock, but all I can do is look at him earnestly.
“Please,” I say. “Make me your wife.”
He’s still recovering from his shock, but he’s starting to grin and he’s getting that light in his eyes I’ve learned is reserved only for me. “Uh, we’re doing this kind of backwards,” he says, holding my face in both his hands.
He’s glowing. My Jack is glowing. But I need to hear him say it.
“Propose to me later then,” I say. “Just say yes first.”
He grins and says “Hell, yes” and kisses me before I can even respond. Then kisses me again and again, then we’re hugging so tight and he’s lifting me up again.
When he sets me down, he says, “Go get your purse,” like he has a mission to fill.
I don’t argue or ask why. I dash in, grab my purse, and we hustle into his truck.
“Where are we going?” I ask as we’re pulling away, me tucked right in next to him.
“My place,” he says.
“Uh... my bed’s way closer.”
He grins at me and I grin back.
“I’m just saying. It’s not too late to turn around.”
“It’s not for that,” he says. “Well, not yet.”
When we get to his condo, he has me stand in the middle of the living room and points a finger at me, grinning. “Don’t move.”
I only grin back. Because I’m going to marry that sexy man right there.
He disappears down the hall toward his office. I wait with so much exhilaration, it’s flowing off my body and humming in the air.
For the record, I was wrong. Love is amazing.
When Jack comes back, he’s wearing an expression of love and excitement and nervousness, and carrying a little black ring box.
My breath catches.
I watch with an open mouth as he gets down on one knee and opens the box to reveal a softly swirling silver ring with a gorgeous central sapphire stone, off-set by diamonds.
I gasp. “Oh my god.”
“Do you like it?”
I nod earnestly. “It’s beautiful.” My heart pinches and I swallow past a lump in my throat. “It’s perfect, Jack. But when did you—”
“Months ago,” he says, smiling, but his voice is trembling underneath. It makes me realize the weight of what we’re doing. I don’t care. I want it. “I knew it was way too soon, but I saw it in the window and couldn’t help myself.”
He’s had this ring for months? He takes my hand in his. “Okay, hush now so I can propose properly.”
I grin. “Okay.” But I can’t resist slipping down and tucking myself into his arms.
“Sam,” he says laughing. “You’re supposed to stand there.”
“Uh-uh,” I say, shaking my head. “You have to do it like this.”
He laughs again, then his eyes get that tender fire in them and he takes my face in his hands. We’re kneeling together on the floor, stomachs and thighs touching, breath mingling. “God, I love you,” he says.
“I loved you first.”
It’s our new joke. He says he was first, because he fell in love with me when I almost died in the hospital, but I didn’t fall in love with him until later and he has my drunken escapade to prove it. But I say I win, because even though I thought it didn’t count when we weren’t having sex, I gave my heart to this boy years and years ago.
But Jack doesn’t play the game right now. He’s still looking at me with that fire, and holding me so close. “Samantha Lawson,” he says, in that way I love, “I promise to do my best to make you happy every day.”
You already make me happy every day, I think, but I don’t interrupt so he can propose properly.
“You’re my favorite girl,” he says. “My best girl. You always have been. Will you please be my one and only girl, for the rest of our lives?”
“Yes, Jack,” I say, only able to whisper past the lump in my throat. There’s nothing I want more.
We’re gathered on the second floor patio of Giovanni & Co, a classy restaurant and event hall in Swan Pointe, with a nice view of the ocean. The covered balcony we’ve reserved looks as it always does, the dark wood-beamed ceiling strung with twinkle lights and little iron lanterns. It has a great atmosphere, so there wasn’t anything more we needed to do to it. On one side of the room are two long tables full of food so good, even our resident foodie Chloe has been impressed. There’s a small, private bar area in one corner with an ample supply of drinks, and there are high cocktail tables scattered about so people can have a place to set their drinks and food while they talk. There are lovely gas stone fireplaces at the two outer corners of the patio, which keep the space cozy in spite of it being a mild, mid-December evening.
We reserved the room a couple weeks ago and sent out emails and texts, telling people to come in cocktail party dress, prepared for an important a
nnouncement.
We’ve gathered the Firework Girls and their guys, and flew in Jack’s family and my mother. We invited a few other key extended family members (including Isabella’s mother, who’s always kind of mothered me, and who honored me by taking the trouble to come), and friends (mostly Jack’s, because that boy knows everybody) who we knew would give the place a festive atmosphere. But aside from making sure the Firework Girls and our parents would be free, we let the chips fall where they may for everyone else, no offense to them.
It’s been a good turn-out, though, and now that everyone’s had their fill of food and are chatting happily with one another, Jack and I look at one another and smile.
He’s wearing a black suit and black tie, but he hates ties, so I loosened the knot when we first got here, and I gave him a kiss and said, “Now you look like my Jack.”
I’m wearing a form-fitting, sleeveless, silver dress, that’s covered in beads, falls to my ankles, and has a delicate slit in the back that goes to my knees. I’ve worn it several times to Ashley’s recitals, and Jack requested it, saying it’s his favorite.
Holding my eyes now, and holding my hand, he asks, “Ready?”
“Yes, please.”
We each take a deep breath and head over to the front of the balcony. The room slowly falls to an eager silence as people notice what we’re doing. They’ve been pestering us all night about the promised announcement, but we’ve stayed mum.
All Jack has to do is clear his throat and the last bits of chatter fall away. Still holding hands, we look at one another, grinning.
“Okay,” he says. “We have an announcement.”
“Really?” Ashley says, smiling. “We had no idea.”
Light laughter ripples around the room and I scrunch my face up at her. She does it back.
Jack and I look at one another one last time. Here we go. He faces the gathering and says, “We’ve set a date to get married.”
“I knew it!” Chloe says, beaming.
There are little swells of excitement as people react to Jack’s words, but he raises his hand to keep them contained so he can tell them the actual date. After he says it, I watch everyone’s faces: confusion, surprise, disbelief. More confusion.
Yeah, this was an awesome idea, I think, grinning.
“But...” Isabella says. “That’s today’s date.”
“Boy, you can’t get anything past a Harvard grad,” I say, winking at her.
Then the noise on the balcony swells as everyone realizes what’s happening.
“Wait a minute,” Chloe says, still in shock. “Are you getting married right now?”
Chloe’s been knee-deep in wedding plans for several months and still has a few more months to go. We were a little worried she’d be upset at us for cutting in line, but hope she’ll understand. I’ve never been one to fantasize about wedding cakes and bridal bouquets so there wasn’t much to plan, and once we made the decision, neither one of us wanted to wait.
We nod at her and I ask, “Is that all right?”
Her face is still puzzling something out. “Hang on. Your invitation was a text.”
“Well, it got you here didn’t it?” I say grinning, and the other girls start to laugh. In another second, Chloe joins in.
She looks at Grayson in amusement. “I’m thinking they may have had the right idea.” I’m relieved to see she’s not bothered.
“You just didn’t want to be the last Firework Girl to get married, did you?” she asks teasingly.
I wink at her. “We saved the best for last, sweetie.”
I turn to Jack, who pulls me to his side while gesturing to one of his clients, Marcus. He’s a professional chef and an amateur photographer, he restores classic cars and keeps bees in his backyard, he has two full tat sleeves and a long beard, and is an ordained mail-order minister. We had him over for beer and brats the other day as a thank you for his upcoming service to us, and spent the evening laughing at his decidedly un-minister-like stories. He’s the perfect person to marry us.
Marcus works his way to the front, wearing a friendly smile. Jack introduces him to the crowd, then lets him take over. As Marcus brings forward the witnesses who will sign the marriage license later, Jack and I keep looking at each other and smiling. We’re holding each other’s hand, and standing so close our arms touch and intertwine, shoulder to inner wrist.
And that’s exactly how we stand, looking into each other’s eyes, as Marcus begins the simple ceremony we wanted. It’s how we stand as we say our vows, and it’s how we’re standing when we officially become husband and wife.
Still holding my hand, Jack puts his other hand around my waist, and just in time, because I could use his support. He brings his lips to mine and carries me away in that delicious, raging flood that is all Jack.
EPILOGUE
Sam
Chloe’s wedding ceremony was one for the books, and the reception we’re enjoying is so grand and beautiful, it nearly tops Isabella’s.
Chloe’s wearing a gorgeous gown with a delicate, applique bodice and a flounced, layered Organza skirt. Her auburn hair is in a graceful updo, with little wisps framing her glowing face. Grayson is the proud and handsome groom, who cannot stop smiling at his new bride.
We’re all at the bridal table, sitting through a stream of toasts that are sometimes heartfelt and touching, other times awkward and overly-long, but Chloe and Grayson seem to like each one, so I figure that’s what counts. And yes, I toasted them too.
What I didn’t do was drink to them.
I didn’t drink to any toast.
I just sort of went through the motions, which I figured would be good enough since I’m not exactly the center of everyone’s attention right now anyway.
But after the toasts are over and we’re back to chatting happily at the table—Chloe on my left and Jack on my right—Isabella calls me out on it. I don’t think she means to. She just sort of looks at my still-full glass and absently says, “Hey, Sam, why aren’t you drinking your champagne?”
Then she gets this look and her eyebrows shoot up. “Oh my god, are you pregnant?!”
Suddenly everyone at the table is looking at us.
We didn’t want to steal Chloe’s thunder. God knows that girl deserves her moment at last, but one look at Jack and I know he’s giving it away. He’s wearing that big, goofy grin he’s been wearing ever since he found out. I can’t help it. I smile too.
Chloe squeals and launches herself at me. “Oh my god, I’m so happy for you!”
From around the table, we’re bombarded with exclamations and congratulations and questions about when did we find out and how am I feeling and when am I due.
It’s a little overwhelming, but Jack and I keep exchanging grins anyway.
“You’re going to be such a great mom,” Ashley says.
I give her a grateful smile. I’m not at all sure I’ll be a good mom, but I’m determined not to let that get the better of me. I’ll try my best.
“I don’t know about that,” I say. “But Jack will be a great dad.”
I have no doubts there.
“Oh my gosh,” Isabella says, “I can just see it. Jack’s going to be the fun dad who makes his kids feel awesome and loved, even when he has to use his dad voice.” I glance at Jack and see he’s blushing. Actually blushing. So freaking adorable.
“And Sam, you’re going to be like those cool Italian moms. You’re going to have that strong, steady love that your kids can count on, and a kitchen that constantly overflows with food.” My eyes are wide on Isabella, drinking in her every word. Will that be me? “And anyone who tries to mess with your kid will regret it for the rest of time.”
“Well, that’s for damned sure!” I say, and everyone laughs.
“Yet she can be so tender and nurturing when she wants to be,” Jack says, teasing me and rubbing my shoulders.
“Cut it out,” I say sternly, and everyone laughs again. “I just hope I make it through the newborn s
tage without breaking it.”
“You’ll be fine,” Ashley says.
“But they’re so bitty.”
Ashley shrugs. “They’re tougher than you’d think.”
“Just like you,” Jack says, throwing his arm around my shoulder and giving me the kind of look that makes me pay attention. “Bitty but tough.”
I lean over and give him a kiss. God, I love this man. “This poor kid will have to be tough,” I say, “with parents like us.”
“She’ll have the coolest parents ever,” Jack says, leaning back easily.
“She?” Chloe asks excitedly. “Is it a girl?”
“We don’t know yet,” I say.
“It’s a girl,” Jack says confidently. I don’t know why he feels so sure. I haven’t admitted I think it’s a girl, too.
Isabella raises her glass, smiling broadly. “A toast! To the next Firework Girl.”
I smile as we all raise our glasses. We clink our glasses and drink (except me of course), and the table eventually dissolves into the happy chatter that marks so much of our time together.
I think back to when it all started. Back then, it was just Isabella, Chloe, Ashley and me, sitting around Delsa’s diner, downing obscenely huge plates of Volcano fries.
Now here we are, each of us married and me with a baby on the way.
How things change.
But I know one thing with certainty. No matter what comes our way, no matter what changes the future brings, the Firework Girls are forever.
The End
Author’s Note
I was tempted to give Sam a nice, tidy ending with her father. I was tempted to give you, the reader, reassurance that he won’t be hanging over her head any more. After all as romance readers, we’re fans of the Happily Ever After. However, I felt that would be an injustice to the many, many people who have to live their entire lives with a toxic parent, with no easy out and no tidy ending. Sam’s power is this: regardless of what her father does or does not do, she found it within herself to create her own happy ending.
