by Chloe Cox
“It was always about Harlow, Alex. I was always doing this for Harlow. And I’ll do worse than testify,” I say. “If you go after them, I go after you.”
And the next thing I see surprises me. I see Alex Wolfe looking at me, and understanding. I see him understand exactly what I mean, exactly how far I’ll go. I see him understand that I belong, body and soul, to the woman standing behind me.
He doesn’t know what to say.
I do.
“Get out,” I say. “Before I throw you out.”
“That won’t be necessary,” he finally says, getting up slowly. I don’t think I hit him that hard. I think he’s just shocked. Alex looks at me, and at Harlow, and he nods. He says, “You’re my son, Marcus, whether you like it or not. That’s why I believe you. So, all right. Hands off the Chases.”
He smiles wryly at Harlow, and I ball my fists up, feel my back go up. I don’t even want him to look at her.
“You won,” Alex says to Lo. Then he looks at me and tells me, “And you’re still my son.”
I grit my teeth. I don’t care what he says, what he thinks, how much pride he needs to save. As long as he walks out that door and never comes back. He looks at me. I look at him. This is my line in the sand.
I won’t even give him the satisfaction of a goodbye.
He turns around, and for the last damn time, Alex Wolfe walks out of my life.
Out of our lives.
“Marcus,” Harlow whispers.
It’s not until he’s out that door that I realize how hard I’m breathing, how my muscles ache to move, how much pure adrenaline is coursing through my veins. And it’s not until he’s gone that it’s safe for me to feel anything but protective, but as soon as she speaks, as soon as I hear her voice and know she’s safe, know she’s mine, I see my future map out in front of me. For the first time, it’s a good one.
I turn around and see her, my Harlow, standing there. Beautiful. Head up. Strong. And this look on her face, this look in her eyes, that I can’t mistake for anything else. It’s love, but it’s also compassion.
The love of my life says, “Marcus, he’s your father.”
I cross the room, because I suddenly know that I won’t breathe again until I can touch her. I put my hand up against her cheek and watch her lean into it, her eyes half-closed. She’s the most beautiful thing on the planet. She’s the best person I’ve ever known.
And there’s something I need her to understand.
“You, Harlow, you’re everything,” I say. “You are my everything. You’re the reason I learned how to laugh. You’re the reason I learned how to be strong. You’re the reason I learned how to be good. I am who I am because I found you. Because you let me love you.”
Jesus, it feels good to say it.
Harlow’s watching me, letting tears fall down her cheek and into my hand. She’s smiling, but I can see, in those baby blues, she looks just how I feel. Like she can’t believe she’s living this moment. Like no one ever deserved to be this lucky. And I want her to know it’s not luck, not for her. I’m the lucky one. I’m the luckiest man who ever lived, because I’m the one who gets to make sure she has the life she deserves.
“Lie to me,” she whispers. “Tell me I’m dreaming.”
“Don’t have to,” I say back. She smiles, and tries not to cry some more. I love her for that, too. “Everything I did, I did for you, Lo. Everything that I am, I am because I love you. And if you let me love you from now on, I will be better. I promise you. Every damn day, I will be better.”
Harlow blinks back tears, shaking her head just so slightly. “Shut up,” she says. “I love you just the way you are.”
“That’s good,” I say. “Because you’re mine.”
“Yours,” she says.
I look at Harlow’s face, and see the best parts of who I want to be reflected there. I see the man she’s made me. And I see the woman who holds my heart in her hands.
And I kiss her.
epilogue
HARLOW
Four months later…
I'm standing in my parents' old bedroom, by myself, and I have a decision to make.
When Marcus told me the truth about why he left, it changed everything. It didn't feel like it would, not at first. I mean, I'd already decided to forgive him, and I loved him, and honestly there wasn't anything he could have said that would have changed that. Obviously it hit me hard, right in the heart, to find out that he'd done all of this for me and Dill. That it had been about me and Dill, all the time. But there was so much going on that I don't think I fully felt it right away.
Some things take a while to grow, I guess.
It crept up on me at the weirdest moments. I'd be doing dishes or whatever, and I'd think of some random night back in high school when Marcus came by and surprised me while I was doing dishes, and instead of that memory leading inevitably to the end of Marcus leaving me—instead of reminding me that he'd crushed me, that he'd thrown me away—I thought about what he'd sacrificed for us, instead.
It changed everything.
Every memory, every feeling, every insecurity, every scar.
It took a while for that change to seep through me. That first week? There was a lot to take in. Alex Wolfe getting back in touch with Marcus, refusing to leave him alone, not wanting to let his son go. I guess that part is understandable. Marcus rejecting every offer Alex made, Marcus demanding the truth. Finding out that it really was Alex who had paid someone to break into my home to trash the place and scare me into selling. That it was Alex who had paid someone to sabotage my septic system, right after he came here and warned me that old houses like this always fall apart.
I should have been outraged—and wow, was Marcus furious—but all I remember thinking at the time was how much those stunts backfired. All they did was give me an excuse to let Marcus back into my life. As Marcus would say, I guess irony is a bitch.
So Marcus threw away his future with Alex Wolfe's company. Demanded that Alex buy out his equity, telling his father he wanted nothing to do with him. Telling him over and over again that if Alex ever did anything to threaten custody of Dill, Marcus would go to the police or the FBI or the SEC or whoever, and tell them everything he knew about everything Alex had ever done. That Marcus himself would take care of Alex. Etc. Etc.
That apparently hit home. Alex Wolfe looked like someone had knocked the life out of him, like he was about to shrivel up. If you'd told me that would happen, I might have thought I'd feel happy, but I didn't. All I felt was pity.
Slowly, though, the truth about what Marcus had done started to take hold within me, and I realized that I would have to change everything I thought or felt about the last five years. Every time I felt loss, or grief, or hurt because of Marcus, now I know that he was feeling the same thing, on the other side of the country, completely alone—and he was doing it for me and Dill. He chose to go through that, knowing that I'd hate him, knowing that I wouldn't know why, and that he'd never get the credit for it.
And he did it because he loved me.
I like to think I would have been strong enough to do something like that for him. I hope I'll never have to find out.
Believe me when I say that I'm not holding it against him. He's right, that making a decision like that for me, without talking to me, wasn't fair. But it's hard for me to be mad at him for making a mistake about the exact way he planned to sacrifice for me. I mean, honestly. Only Marcus could continue to beat himself up for something like that.
Which: that is something I am working on with him. And he is getting better. He is starting to forgive himself for some of the things he's done. Every time I tell him how much I love him, and how proud I am of him, it seems to sink in a little bit more.
That's reason number one I'm standing in this empty bedroom that used to belong to my parents. I've pushed all the furniture out into the hall, except for the bed, which is in the middle, and covered with a painter's tarp. Then there's me, standing by myself with a couple of ca
ns of red paint. I have no idea what I'm doing. Like, none at all. I don't even know what I was thinking. I was just speed-walking past the hardware store on my way home from the gym, not being used to the December cold yet, and I don't know what happened exactly, but some red decoration caught my eye.
I just knew something needed to change.
And now I'm second guessing myself, shaking. Wishing Marcus was here with me, and at the same time knowing I need to make this decision alone.
Marcus and Dill, by the way? Partners in crime. They're off together right now—when it snows heavily, Marcus has taken to doing these Rocky runs in McCarren park, where he tows Dill on this little plastic sled behind him. It always, always ends in a snowball fight, usually because Dill's been stockpiling snowballs the whole run and then mounts a sneak attack.
Watching the two of them together leaves me speechless, sometimes. Not just me, either. Maria has the same reaction. And she plans to stay in the area now that Marcus bought her house back from Alex at a steep discount, since the development plans were totally ruined, and basically gave it back to her for free. Anyway, the both of us are completely undone, watching Marcus with Dill. They already have their own private jokes, their own weird guy humor, and Marcus has been learning about video games, thinking seriously about investing. And what's more, I can see the happiness on Marcus' face. I can see him fall in love with us as a family, too.
It's like this whole new world has opened up for Dill just having another parent-type in his life. And as Shantha pointed out, pretty soon Dill's going to be dealing with girls, and my advice would have been crap. Marcus, on the other hand? Marcus is smooth, when he's not sacrificing five years of his life in secret.
"He got you back, didn't he?" Shantha said. "Took him what, a month?"
Yeah, can't argue with that.
Everything has come together. Shantha's bar, Maria's house, Marcus has even bought Pops' old gym. Marcus is grudgingly still talking to Alex, because I made him promise, even though he still won't let Alex anywhere near Dill and me. I can live with that for now, but I'm not going to let Marcus cut off contact with his father, not as long as Alex has a chance to change. And even though Marcus has rented an apartment nearby, he hasn't spent a single night there. Everything seems so perfect.
Which means I should be able to paint this damn room. And still my hand shakes.
It's just a coat of paint. I mean, it's not like I'm setting fire to the place or anything, but it feels…so permanent. And it’s my parents’ bedroom.
I kind of blame Dill for this. He came back from camp, not long after our showdown with Alex, and I told him all triumphantly that we wouldn't have to move and…his reaction could at best be described as indifference. I think he may have actually been a little disappointed.
It kind of took the wind out of my sails, a little bit. Had to think about it a bunch. Which was good, because I realized that I had just been treading water. Like, Dill? He doesn't have the same emotional connection this house, because he doesn't have the same emotional connection to the past in this house. Where for me, this place is…
It was full of ghosts, I guess. Full of the past. And so Dill being fairly indifferent made me realize two things: one, that I needed to start moving forward with my life. So I decided to go back to school, which Marcus is literally thrilled about—I've never seen anyone so excited about college. He keeps bringing me brochures.
And two, it made me realize that maybe this wasn't all about Dill. I mean, I don't think that eleven year old boys generally know what's best for them, and I do think it matters for Dill to be around people like Maria, but I had to confront the possibility that this was also about me. That I fought so hard and held on to this house so tight because I was fundamentally afraid of the future. I had been holding on for dear life for so long, trying not to let my past swallow me alive, that the past ended up holding me prisoner instead. I was afraid to let go of anything. It was like those nights I spent lying awake in my bed, too afraid to move or speak or even breathe, until Marcus lay down next to me.
I never even moved into the master bedroom. I still called it my parents' bedroom.
Which is why I am now standing here with a bucket of paint and some last minute nerves. Because I don't want this to be my parents' bedroom anymore. I want it to be our bedroom. I want it to belong to Marcus and me.
I want him to move in, for real.
If I'm honest, I want way more than that. I want him for the rest of my life. But there is a part of me that is still so anxious about pushing him too hard, about losing him again, even though I know it's crazy, I know in my heart that we fit together perfectly. So I know my anxieties and fears about this will fade with time, but for the moment, I can't even start painting. I definitely can’t bring up marriage.
I keep standing motionless in the middle of the room even as I hear Marcus and Dill come in downstairs, unable to move. Even while I hear Dill tear through the kitchen, knowing he's going right for the Oreos and I should probably do something about that, even as I hear Marcus come up the stairs.
God, my heart is pounding.
I hear Marcus head to my bedroom—my old bedroom—and I hear the moment where he wonders why it's empty. Where he looks down the hall. And then I hear him walking towards me, and I'm starting to feel that surge of heat come over me.
"Baby, what're you doing?" he asks.
I turn around just as he comes up behind me, and I lean into his chest. He's sweaty from his Rocky run through the snow, but I love how he smells. I love how he feels against me, the way he wraps his arms around me, the way he nuzzles the top of my head. It's all perfect.
"You ok?" he says.
I nod into his chest and take a deep breath. Now or never.
"I'm painting this bedroom," I say.
"Yeah, that's what it looks like," he says. "Why?"
"Because I want it to be our bedroom." I look up to see this gentle smile on his face. A thought occurs to me. "You like red right? Oh man, I should have asked. I mean, 'ours', right? I should have asked. I can go back, get a different—"
"Shh," he says, and gives me a not so quick kiss. "I love red."
"Marcus," I say. I can hear the nervousness in my own voice. "It's not just about the paint."
"I know,” he says. He’s smiling, still. “Tell me."
Oh God, why is this so hard. I'm trembling. It's like I can feel this wonderful future just ahead of me, and all I have to do is not screw it up, and I am terrified I will choke. I'm terrified that I will say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing, and the universe will punish me for it and take him away again. It’s so crazy. So I do the only thing that's ever helped when I feel like this: I look into Marcus' eyes.
And I see it all there. I see everything. I see how much he loves me.
"I want you to live here," I say. "I want this to be our home."
I can't quite say the rest. I can't quite say, please make me your wife. I'm not brave like he is, but oh man, I will take what I can get. And what I get is Marcus' smile, bright and big, and his strong arms squeezing me tight.
"I can do better than that," he says. He quickly kisses me on my bewildered forehead, and then shouts loud enough for Dill to hear, "Yo, Dillinger! It's time!"
It's what now?
"Be right there!" Dill yells back up.
Marcus must see my look of confused panic. He laughs.
"You know how I've been helping Dill with his homework?" Marcus asks.
I've always been skeptical of this. NASA couldn't help Dill with his homework, but Marcus and Dill have spent a lot of time at Dill's computer. I figured bonding is bonding.
"Yeah," I say. I'm wary.
"I haven't been helping him with his homework," Marcus confesses. I suppress a smile. "He's been helping me with something."
Oh, God, they've been plotting.
Just as my mind is spinning with all of the things these two could come up with together, Dill comes running in at that little bo
y speed, only this time he's carrying Marcus' laptop. I have to stop myself from lecturing Dill on running around with someone else's computer, but it's easy to do once I see how excited the little man is. Dill is actually bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, grinning from ear to mischievous ear.
"What have you done?" I say. I almost don't want to know.
"C'mere," Marcus says, leading me over to the tarp covered bed. We all climb on top of it, Dill lugging the laptop along and setting it up in front of me.
"We made you a special game," Dill explains while he boots everything up.
"You did what?"
"You'll see," Marcus says.
"You have to play it to the end," Dill says, running the program. "I'll help if you want."
I open my mouth in mock shock. Like I'd need help. "Little booger," I say, and put him in a quick headlock before giving him a kiss on the top of his head.
Dill doesn't even complain about the kiss.
Something is definitely up.
I watch the computer screen while the game loads. It's got rudimentary graphics and music stolen from other famous videogames, which makes me smile. Dill did most of it himself then, and he did it quickly. But the puzzle is something different. My little character has to collect all these puzzle pieces with strange patterns on them and arrange them in a particular order, making what looks like a square with almost a barcode design on it. It's not too hard, but it's not easy, either.
Dill is smirking.
Finally I get the last piece, and then the music starts to change. Haltingly. Clumsily. But undeniably.
It's Mendelssohn’s Wedding March.
I cover my mouth with my hands, afraid to speak.
The square has floated up off the ground in the little simulation, and now it's rotating around, like a Rubik’s cube, until the weird stripy patterns start to form letters.
It says, I LOVE YOU. MARRY ME.
"That's from Marcus," Dill says helpfully.
I look at Marcus, who's already looking at me. I can't look away from those eyes. I can't look away from the past that I see there, that past I wanted to run away from, and how, in Marcus' eyes, it's changing. It's all leading up to this. It's not something I need to run away from, or leave behind. It made me. It made him.
