Chapter Twenty-Two
Two weeks after Jeremy and Emma’s departure, life has settled into a new rhythm.
I still wake up to the smell of Robert’s weekend pancakes, still practice corner kicks during free periods, still get texts from Maya about increasingly elaborate plans for various social events.
But now I also wake up to good morning messages from Emma, sharing photos of Michigan snow or complaints about her AP Literature teacher.
Now Jeremy sends me articles about soccer scholarships and asks about my college application progress.
The addition of these new relationships doesn’t feel overwhelming anymore; it feels like expansion, like my world growing larger in ways that make sense.
“You seem happy,” Derek observes, walking beside me to the parking lot after school. “Settled, I guess. Like you’re not carrying around as much weight as you were a few weeks ago.”
“I feel lighter,” I say. “Nothing seems complicated anymore.”
“Speaking of complicated, how’s Emma handling things with her mom?”
“Lilly backed down from her ultimatum after my mom’s… intervention, so Emma doesn’t have to choose between having a relationship with me and keeping her college funding.”
“That’s good. Crisis averted?”
“For now. Emma’s still dealing with passive-aggressive comments about ‘family loyalty,’ but at least she’s not being financially blackmailed anymore.”
He unlocks his car and opens the passenger door for me, a habit he’s developed over the past few weeks. “What about your mom? How’s she adjusting to having Jeremy back in your life?”
“She’s coping better than I thought she would, but that’s with me around, not sure how she is when I’m not.”
“I wonder what she told Lilly.”
“Me too,” I sigh as I sit in the passenger seat. He closes the door and heads to the other side getting in.
As he starts the car, I look over at him with a smile.
“She wants to invite you for dinner this weekend.”
Derek’s eyebrows rise. “A ‘meet the parents’ dinner?”
“More like a ‘get to know the boyfriend’ dinner. You’ve been so supportive through all the family craziness, and Mom realizes she doesn’t really know you very well. She wants to fix that.”
“I’d love to have dinner with your family.”
“Even if Robert tells embarrassing stories about me and Mom asks you about your five-year plan?”
“Especially if Robert tells embarrassing stories about you. I need more ammunition for future teasing.”
“I’m reconsidering this invitation.”
“Too late. I’m already mentally preparing for interrogation and planning to charm your parents with my wit and maturity.”
“Your modesty, you mean.”
“That too.”
Saturday evening arrives with the kind of gentle warmth that makes California winters feel like a gift from the weather gods. Derek shows up at our door exactly on time, wearing khakis and a button-down shirt that suggests he’s taking this dinner seriously.
“Good evening,” he says, shaking Robert’s hand and hugging Mom like he’s been practicing the greeting all week.
“Hi Derek,” he greets.
Mom appears from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “Derek, thank you for coming. I hope you’re hungry because I may have made enough food for eight people instead of four.”
“I’m always hungry, especially when someone else is cooking.”
Everyone laughs and heads inside. The smell of roasted chicken fills the house, along with what appears to be three different vegetable dishes and homemade rolls. Mom has clearly gone all-out for this dinner, and I can see Derek taking in the effort she’s put into making the evening special.
“Can I help with anything?” he offers.
“You can help me carry things to the table,” Mom says, already loading his arms with serving dishes. “Olivia, grab the salad and rolls.”
“Olivia tells us you’re interested in marine biology,” Robert says, passing the mashed potatoes. “What got you interested in that field?”
“Honestly, the Catalina trip,” he says. “I’d never really paid attention to ocean ecosystems before, until then.”
“And you’re thinking about studying it in college?” Robert asks.
“Maybe. I’m looking at schools with strong marine science programs. UC San Diego has an incredible program, and Scripps Institution of Oceanography is right there.”
“That’s not too far from here,” Mom observes. “You’d be able to come home on weekends.”
“That’s part of the appeal. I like the idea of being close to family. And close to Olivia, if she ends up at a UC school too.”
The casual way he includes me in his future planning makes my chest flutter. We haven’t talked explicitly about trying to stay near each other for college but hearing him say it out loud makes the possibility feel real and exciting.
“What do your parents think about your college plans?” Mom asks.
“They’re supportive. My dad’s an engineer, so he appreciates the science aspect. My mom just wants me to be happy and financially stable, which marine biology might not guarantee, but she’s willing to let me figure it out.”
“Smart parents,” Robert says approvingly. “Sometimes the best thing you can do is give your kids room to explore their interests.”
As dinner progresses, I watch Derek navigate questions about his family, his goals, his values.
He’s respectful but not stiff, thoughtful but not overly serious.
When Robert tells the story about me getting lost at the pier when I was seven and being found two hours later building sandcastles with a family of strangers, Derek laughs at exactly the right moments and asks follow-up questions that show he’s genuinely interested in understanding who I was as a kid.
“She’s always been independent,” Mom says fondly. “Sometimes to a fault.”
“I prefer to think of it as self-reliant,” I protest.
“Remember when you were twelve and decided you were old enough to take the bus downtown by yourself?” Robert asks Derek. “She had the whole route planned, knew exactly where she wanted to go, had emergency money and a cell phone. Very responsible and completely unauthorized.”
“Did you let her go?” Derek asks.
“We followed her on the bus,” Mom admits. “Sat three rows behind her and watched her navigate the whole trip like she’d been doing it for years. She never saw us.”
“That sounds exactly like something you would do,” Derek tells me. “Thorough planning followed by confident execution.”
“It’s one of her best qualities,” Robert says. “And occasionally one of her most terrifying.”
After dinner, Derek insists on helping with dishes despite Mom’s protests. I watch him dry plates while chatting easily with Robert about basketball playoffs and college football rankings, fitting seamlessly into the rhythm of our family’s evening routine.
“He’s lovely,” Mom whispers to me while Derek and Robert debate the merits of different coaching strategies. “Polite, thoughtful, clearly adores you.”
“You like him?”
“I like that he makes you happy. I like that he’s been supportive through all the family changes without trying to insert himself where he doesn’t belong. He seems mature for his age.”
“He is. Sometimes I forget we’re only eighteen.”
“The good ones make you feel like that. Like you’re both older and younger than you actually are.”
After the dishes are done, Derek and I sit on the front porch steps watching the sunset paint the sky in shades of orange and pink. The evening air is warm enough that we don’t need jackets, and the sound of waves carries up from the beach two blocks away.
“That went really well,” Derek says, bumping my shoulder with his. “Your parents are great.”
“They liked you too. Robert doesn’t usually engage that much with my friends, and Mom was practically glowing during dessert.”
“Good. I want them to know I’m serious about you, about us. That I’m not just some guy you’re casually dating.”
“Are we serious?”
Derek turns to look at me, his expression more intent than usual. “I’d like to be. I know we haven’t talked about labels or anything official, but this feels like more than casual dating to me.”
“It feels like more than casual dating to me too.”
“So we’re officially serious?”
“We’re officially serious.”
He leans over and kisses me, soft and sweet in the golden hour light. It’s not our first kiss, but it feels significant in a way that earlier kisses didn’t; like we’re marking a transition from figuring out what we are to knowing what we want to become.
“I should probably head home,” Derek says when we separate. “Early soccer practice tomorrow.”
“Drive carefully.”
“Always do.” He stands and pulls me up with him. “Thank you for tonight. For letting me be part of your family dinner, for wanting me to meet your parents properly.”
“Thank you for being someone worth introducing to them.”
As Derek drives away, I sit on the porch steps for a few more minutes, processing the evening. Something has shifted in our relationship—not dramatically, but definitively. We’re no longer just two people who enjoy spending time together. We’re two people building something intentional and lasting.
My phone buzzes with a text from Emma: “How was Derek’s dinner with the family?”
I’d forgotten I’d mentioned it to her during our daily check-in call. “Really good. Mom and Robert love him. We’re officially serious now.”
“Finally! I could tell from your video calls that you two were crazy about each other.”
“Was it that obvious?”
“You get this dopey smile when you talk about him. It’s very sweet and slightly nauseating.”
I laugh, typing back: “Thanks for the sisterly honesty.”
“That’s what sisters are for. Speaking of which, I have news.”
My phone rings immediately.
“What kind of news?” I answer.
“The good kind. I talked to Dad about the possibility of finishing senior year in California, and he thinks it’s a great idea. He’s already looking into the legal aspects of temporary custody arrangements.”
“Really? What changed?”
“Mom and I had another fight about college choices. She wants me to stay in Michigan for school, close to home, where she can ‘continue to be involved in my life decisions.’ I want to explore options in California, maybe go to school near you.”
“And that led to a fight?”
“A big one. She accused me of trying to abandon the family. I accused her of trying to control my entire future, and it escalated from there. Dad heard the whole thing and pulled me aside afterward to ask what I really wanted.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I want to finish high school somewhere I don’t have to walk on eggshells around my mother’s feelings. That I want to get to know my sister without having to justify that relationship constantly. And that I want to make my own choices about college without guilt trips about family loyalty.”
“What did he say?”
“He said those were all reasonable things to want, and that maybe some distance would be good for everyone involved. He’s going to talk to your mom about the practicalities of me living there temporarily.”
The idea of Emma moving to California, living in our house, finishing senior year at my school, feels surreal and exciting and slightly terrifying all at once.
“Are you sure about this? Moving across the country is huge.”
“I’m sure. I’ve been thinking about it since I left California two weeks ago. I felt more like myself during those few days than I have in months. I want to see what it feels like to live somewhere I don’t have to manage other people’s emotions constantly.”
“When would this happen?”
“Probably winter break, if we can get all the legal and school stuff sorted out. I’d start second semester at your school.”
“Emma, this is incredible. Scary, but incredible.”
“I know. I’m nervous about leaving Dad, nervous about Mom’s reaction, nervous about starting over at a new school. But I’m more excited than nervous.”
Emma moving to California will bring new challenges, new adjustments, new opportunities for growth. But as I head inside to tell Mom and Robert about Emma’s decision, I’m not worried about those challenges.