Chapter 42 Cheers
Chapter forty-two
Cheers
Jameson Sinclair
Marigold frowns at my leg propped up next to her in the booth.
“Goldie, I’m fine,” I insist with a laugh. “Quit worrying.”
In the two weeks since my injury, Marigold has done everything possible to ensure that I’m resting my knee.
Thankfully, there was no tear, but there was a significant sprain.
The doctor instructed me to follow a rest protocol for a few weeks and complete gentle physical therapy.
He seemed to think I would be able to be a part of the later rounds of the playoffs if the Thrashers make it that far and Coach Rhodes decides to let me play.
“I feel like we should have gotten everything to-go so you wouldn’t be in this cramped booth,” she says, her face lined with concern.
“This is too important for a to-go order. Plus, how can we pester Amos if we eat somewhere else?”
That gets her to smile, which in turn makes me smile, too.
We drove to Kimmy’s Diner today to celebrate a special occasion: Marigold’s last day at the paper.
Charlie was shocked when she came into his office two weeks ago to give him notice of her leaving.
I thought Marigold might change her mind when he told her she was one of the best reporters to walk into the newsroom.
But she stayed true to what she wanted most, and I’m proud of her for that.
“He might not even be our server,” Marigold says as she cranes her neck to look around the slightly dilapidated diner.
Everything is clean, but nothing is new.
The cracked booth with a chipped table that we’re occupying is proof of that.
As is the jukebox that only plays three Johnny Cash songs on repeat nearby.
“In all our years coming here, he’s always served this section. And I think even if we sat somewhere else, he’d serve us. He likes us.”
Marigold shakes her head and laughs. “He does not.”
Amos walks over at that moment, his wrinkled face set in a firm scowl.
“Doesn’t that look like a man happy to see us?” I ask her with a smirk.
She presses her lips together to stifle a laugh. Amos stops at the end of our booth and pulls out his small yellow notepad and pencil.
“Long time no see, Amos,” I say.
He dips his chin. “I thought you two wouldn’t come back after graduation.”
I give Marigold a look that says see?
“We’ve been busy, but today is a special occasion,” Marigold tells him, making my smile grow. It makes me beyond happy to see her choosing what she wants, not what she feels like she has to do.
“Coke floats, then?” Amos grumbles.
Marigold’s face lights up and she nods.
“Plus two burgers and a pancake with lots of whipped cream!” she adds.
He scribbles on the notepad, then nods again.
“Be right out.”
“Thanks, Amos,” Marigold beams.
The old man’s lip twitches a little like he might smile, but he just turns and heads toward the kitchen.
“He remembered!” she whispers excitedly.
“I told you he likes us.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Maybe you’re right. He cares in his own grumpy sort of way.”
“I’m proud of you for saying today is a special occasion,” I say to her. “I’m proud of you in general, lately. It’s been amazing to see you so relaxed and happy.”
Her cheeks tint a rosy pink.
“You should get most of the credit for that. I wouldn’t have done any of this without you.”
I shrug. “You’re still the one who had to do everything. I’m just the emotional-support boyfriend.”
She lets out a little laugh. “You’re way more than that.” Her expression softens into something sincere. “Really, Jameson, I can’t thank you enough. I’ve been drowning for so long, not realizing that I was holding my own head underwater.”
My throat tightens at her description. I hate the idea that she felt that way and that there was a period of time when she was alone, too.
Of course she had her roommates, but she didn’t tell them everything she was dealing with until recently.
I wish I could go back and make different choices.
Maybe we wouldn’t have gone through all this pain if I had.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Marigold says with a pointed look. “And you shouldn’t be. You can’t blame yourself forever.”
Marigold never fails to see right through me. Even when I wish she couldn’t.
Amos returns and sets two ice-cold glasses in front of us. Vanilla ice cream mixed with the Coca-Cola foams over the edge of the scalloped rim of the glass.
“Thanks, Amos,” I say, and he grunts before walking away again. I think that’s all we’re going to get out of him tonight.
“I just wish I could go back in time is all,” I say once he’s gone.
“But we can’t, so there’s no point dwelling on it. I wish I would have done a lot of things differently, too.” She picks up her glass. “Now toast me, before I freak out and call Charlie to ask for my desk back.”
I chuckle and pick up my glass, holding it in the air.
“To choosing what’s right for you, no matter what anyone else thinks,” I say, meeting her gaze.
She gives me a soft smile and whispers, “Cheers to that.”
We clink glasses, then take a sip in unison.
Marigold wipes away some foam from her lip with a giggle, and everything that was at war within me settles at the sight.
My mind flashes through hundreds of versions of her that have sat in that same seat.
One with braces, short hair, long hair, tears, laughter …
and then I fixate on the Marigold that’s here now.
A woman who’s fierce and brave and somehow, inexplicably, mine.
I don’t think I’ll ever stop regretting the way I hurt her months ago, but I know that I wouldn’t have this version of her without that event.
Everything we’ve gone through this first year of college has molded and shaped us into the people sitting here today.
And as I watch her drink our childhood favorite, I’m overwhelmed by the idea that I’ll get to watch her change for years to come.
Because now that I have her?
I’m never letting her go.