Chapter 21 #2
For a second, I picture Pete sitting beside me, humming along. Then I shake it off, put the truck in gear, and pull onto the road.
If I can just finish this house… maybe it’ll be enough to hold it all together when the rest starts to fall apart.
We go out, and it's nothing fancy, just downtown Wisteria Cove on a Saturday night, where the air smells like fried fish, ocean salty air, and everyone who knows us smiles curiously when they see us together, holding hands. Strings of warm lights zigzag above Main Street, and someone’s busking outside the diner, playing an off-key version of “Brown Eyed Girl.”
From the moment tonight when she slipped her hand into mine, just like that, the weight I’ve been carrying gets a little lighter.
It’s stupid how something that small can make the world feel steady again.
I’m focused on the house because it’s the one thing that I can control.
I’m so afraid of messing this up, that I’m trying to control something and it’s not helping.
I need to focus on my family and Rowan. People are what matters.
Even old Mrs. Eaton stops, squints at us over her gold glasses on a chain and says, “You two look good together. Don’t mess it up.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I answer, pretending to be serious.
Rowan looks up at me, her cheeks pink, her smile soft. “This is weird.”
“Good weird?”
“Yeah,” she says, eyes shining. “Really good weird.”
Rowan didn’t even blink when I asked her if she’d mind going to Mom’s for our date. She knows time with Pete is precious and if we get a chance to go, we’re going to go.
We barely make it to Mom's front porch and the smell of butter and garlic hits. Rowan groans. “That smells so good.”
We don’t even get a chance to knock. The door flies open, and Mom’s standing there like she’s been waiting. “There they are! My favorite couple!” She grins when she says it. I know she’s so happy for us.
“You say that to Remy and Ivy, too,” Rowan teases.
My mom waves a hand. “And I mean it every single time I say it to whoever I say it to. Get in here before the garlic bread gets cold.”
My mom's kitchen is pure luxury in the best way. She lives in an old, restored Victorian that is stunning. I helped her restore everything down to the outlet covers. Music is playing, flour dusted on the counters, Junie drawing horses at the table, Pete pretending he’s helping, but really he's eating from the charcuterie board she has laid out. It smells like heaven. My mom hasn’t been big on cooking most of her life, but recently she’s gotten into it more and she’s made some amazing dinners.
Mom moves to the stove, stirring sauce like she’s conducting an orchestra. Pete’s beside her, trying and failing to look useful.
“Pete, go relax, I've got it,” she says as she lays a hand on his forearm.
He looks over his shoulder. “Well, they're here now, so we can eat, right?”
“Yes.” She laughs and reaches over to grab a potholder.
He smirks at me. “You hearing this, Finn? She's trying to starve an old dying man.”
Pete loves to say things like that to get a rise out of us.
We all know he’s on borrowed time with his cancer.
At first, we’d get upset when he said that, but we realized that’s his dark and humorous way of making light of it, so we go with it.
He uses it to coerce us into getting ice cream.
He’ll say, “Let’s go get ice cream.” And if he needs us to give in, he’ll say, “You would deny a dying man?” So now we just laugh and go with it.
I think he thinks that when he does die, it will make it easier on us because we talked about it, even joked about it. We’re a dark family, what can I say?
“I’m staying out of it,” I say fast. “I’ve seen her swing a wooden spoon.”
Mom flicks her towel at him. “You’ll thank me when your pasta doesn’t taste like drywall.”
Pete grins. “Donna, your pasta could never taste like drywall.”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s what you said right before you lied and ate my burned soft biscotti.”
Rowan laughs and grins, and I swear my whole chest aches watching her fit right in as she sits with Junie at the table, talking to her.
Mom finally spins around, hands on hips. “Don’t think I don’t see you two giggling back there. Everyone get to the table, so I can feed you before you all starve, apparently.”
Pete mutters, “Impossible woman,” and brings over a basket of garlic bread that could feed a small army. “Deadline,” he mouths. “She’s been a menace all week.”
Mom drops into a chair with a theatrical sigh. “Three chapters behind. My editor’s sending me GIFs of ticking clocks. I’m writing something new. It's a small-town romance with a witchy twist. And I have to get it just right."
I nearly choke on my beer. “You’re writing what?”
She grins. “Oh, don’t look so scandalized. You all inspired me. Love, chaos, questionable decisions. It’s the Bennett family brand.”
Pete leans in. “You should see her Pinterest board. It’s called Wisteria Cove Hotties.”
“Pete!” she gasps, smacking his arm playfully with her kitchen towel. “Don't tell them that.”
Rowan’s laughing and I’m just staring at her, completely gone. “I want to see that,” she wiggles her eyebrows at me, knowing that this is at my expense. My mom is notorious for including people she knows in her books. We never know who her next victim will be.
“Anyway,” Donna says, cheeks flushed, “it’s called Mistletoe & Magic. Due next week, if I can get these last chapters knocked out.”
“I can't wait to read it,” Rowan says as she passes out napkins and forks.
Dinner is everything I love about this family: loud, messy, full of laughter, and second helpings. Mom fusses over everyone, making Rowan eat more garlic bread, patting my cheek, and getting Junie another napkin.
Junie tells Rowan about school. Ivy calls during dessert just to say that her and Remy will be there in an hour.
For once, it feels like time’s slowing down, like maybe nothing’s slipping through our fingers. It’s easy, and comfortable. But deep down, we all know better.
Rowan fits in and is smiling like she belongs here. Like she’s always belonged here right here by my side as my partner.
And right here, I know exactly what I’m fighting for. Because she’s it, she’s everything.