Chapter 49 Nate
NATE
Istared at my phone as the party buzzed around me.
Goldsboro. An hour from Esperance. Far enough that I wouldn’t run into anyone I knew in the waiting room. Close enough that I couldn’t use the drive as an excuse to cancel.
I read the confirmation twice, then a third time, my thumb hovering over the screen.
It was the first step in a journey I wasn’t sure I had the strength to navigate. That uncertainty was turning me inside out.
“There you are.”
Maya wove through the crowd toward me with two glasses of beer. I hurriedly locked my phone, sliding it into my pocket.
Of course she caught the movement, her eyes dropping for half a second, then coming back to my face.
“Here I am.”
Uncertainty flickered in her gaze as she handed me one of the glasses. “Thought you could use a drink.”
It took every ounce of self-control I had not to say, Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not that.
But I couldn’t. Not yet. Not while everything was churning around inside me.
“Thanks, appreciate it.”
I pulled the chair out beside me and tipped my head toward it. She sat down, crossing her legs and smoothing the skirt of her slim black dress over her knees.
Giving in to the urge, I leaned in and brushed a kiss against her neck, almost smiling when goose bumps rippled across her skin.
“Did I tell you how beautiful you look?”
The smile that spread across her face lanced straight through me. My heart squeezed so hard it hurt.
“You might have mentioned it.” She pretended to think about it. “Like, fifty times. At least.”
I brushed my lips over hers, light and slow, my hand cupping the back of her head. She hummed softly against my mouth and when I pulled back, her eyes stayed closed for a beat.
When she opened them, there was a soft, dreamy look in them that made me want to skip the party entirely and take her home.
“Well, that’s because it’s true.”
I let my fingers trail down the curve of her spine before draping my arm along her chair, turning to survey the room.
“Your mom sure knows how to throw a party.”
Nancy had outdone herself. Fairy lights crisscrossed above the vineyard terrace, casting a glow over the white tablecloths and mason jar centerpieces. Every seat was packed with family, friends, and neighbors, all buzzing with energy as the last of the evening sun faded over the vines.
Maya laughed and tucked herself closer against my side. “Oh yeah, back in June I heard her say, ‘Just a small gathering, John. Just close family and a few friends.’ By July she’d hired a caterer, a florist, and a DJ, and Dad had stopped asking questions.”
As if on cue, the music kicked up a notch, and a ripple of energy moved through the crowd.
Hannah shoved her way through a cluster of cousins, wine glass in one hand, and immediately clamped her other hand around Maya’s wrist. “You’re dancing. Now. Non-negotiable.”
“I was literally sitting down for two seconds—”
“And now you’re dancing. Poppy, grab her other arm.”
Maya shot me a helpless look over her shoulder as they hauled her away. I raised my beer in a silent toast, chuckling when she subtly flipped me off behind Poppy’s back.
I sat back and watched her lose herself in the music. The black dress, her bare shoulders, the way she threw her head back and laughed as Hannah spun her in a circle. I just let myself sit in the feeling, wallowing in it. I loved her. Every stubborn, generous, maddening inch of her.
On the dance floor, Maya grabbed Poppy’s hands and the two of them dissolved into laughter, completely abandoning any pretense of rhythm. Hannah tried to corral them back into something resembling a dance, failed spectacularly, and gave up with a dramatic eye roll.
A little girl broke free from one of the tables and made a beeline for the chaos. She couldn’t have been more than five or six, all ringlet curls and a poufy dress. She launched herself at Maya’s legs like a tiny heat-seeking missile.
Maya’s whole face lit up. She scooped the kid onto her hip, said something that made the little girl giggle, and started swaying with her to the music.
I took a slow sip of my beer.
An older woman passed behind Maya and squeezed her shoulder. Maya turned, lit up again, and pulled the woman into a one-armed hug without breaking her hold on the kid. They exchanged a few words, both laughing, before the woman drifted back toward the tables.
The song shifted into something slower and Maya handed the little girl back to a woman who had to be her mother. She ruffled the kid’s curls, waved at the mom, and turned back to her friends. Samara said something in her ear and Maya threw her arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.
I scanned the room. There were Maya’s grandparents, sitting at the center table.
Her grandmother leaned into her grandfather’s side, both of them watching the dance floor with soft smiles.
Dan stood at the bar with his arms crossed, shaking his head at the chaos but grinning.
A cluster of older men near the back raised their glasses in John’s direction.
Nancy chatted with her sister over glasses of wine.
Every single person at this party had a history with Maya. A story. A thread connecting them to her life in ways I was only beginning to understand.
I set my beer down, watching as the condensation formed a wet ring on the tablecloth.
This was Maya’s world. Every person at this party, every table, every glass raised in her parents’ honor.
This town, this family, this life she’d built in the place where she grew up.
The roots didn’t just go deep. They were part of the bedrock.
Tangled and buried and impossible to pull up without destroying everything above the surface.
She was never going to leave. Which meant the only way I got to keep her was if I stayed.
My fingers tightened around the glass. Fuck.
The song wound down and the DJ leaned into the mic. “Alright, folks, if everyone could find their seats for a moment, I believe someone has a few words they’d like to say.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Maya returned from the dance floor and dropped into the chair beside me, flushed and breathless. Her eyes were already on John, bright and expectant.
“Oh my god, he’s actually doing it.” She grabbed my arm. “Mom’s about to lose her mind.”
Nancy looked up from her table, confused, scanning the room for whoever had gone off-script.
John made his way to the front, a folded piece of paper in his hand.
He took the mic from the DJ with a nod and stood there for a moment, the paper trembling slightly between his fingers.
He unfolded it, smoothed it flat, ran his eyes over the words, then folded it again and slipped it into his breast pocket.
“Sweetheart, will you come up here with me?”
Nancy’s hand moved from her mouth to her heart as she pushed her chair back and walked across the room. When she reached John, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, whispering something to her. She nodded, tears already shimmering in her eyes. John turned his attention back to the room.
“I’m not much of a public speaker, as most of you know. Nancy’s the talker in this family.” A ripple of laughter moved through the crowd. Nancy swatted his arm. “But I figured thirty years earns a man the right to say a few things out loud.”
The room went quiet.
“Nance, when I married you, I thought I knew what love was. Turns out I had no idea.” He paused, his jaw working for a second.
“You taught me. Every single day for thirty years, you taught me. You taught me that love is showing up when it’s easy.
And showing up when it’s hard. It’s showing up when you’re tired and showing up when you’d rather be anywhere else.
You taught me that a good marriage is built in the ordinary moments.
The coffee in the morning. The conversations at the end of the day.
The way you always leave the porch light on for me even when I’m only gone ten minutes. ”
Nancy’s chin trembled. She pressed her lips together and gripped his arm.
“You gave me two kids who turned out better than I ever could have hoped for.” His eyes found Maya, then Dan.
“And that’s down to you. The home you built, the warmth you filled it with.
The way you made everyone who walked through our door feel like they belonged there.
That’s all you, sweetheart. Every bit of it. ”
Maya’s hand tightened on my knee.
“People ask me what the secret is. Thirty years, how do you do it?” John shook his head slowly. “There’s no secret. You just find the right person, and then you choose them. Every morning, every argument, every good day and bad day. You choose them and you keep choosing them and you never stop.”
He turned fully to Nancy, the mic almost forgotten in his hand.
“I choose you again today. And tomorrow. And the day after that. And every day for the next thirty years, if you’ll have me.” His voice caught on the last word, and he cleared his throat. “I’m the luckiest man alive, and I have been since the day I met you.”
A server came up with two flutes of champagne on a tray. They took one each and John held his up.
“To Nancy.”
The room erupted. Chairs scraped, glasses raised, someone whooped from the back table.
Nancy pulled John into a kiss that made the whooping louder, and when they broke apart, her mascara was ruined.
She was laughing through her tears and John was looking at her like she’d hung every single star in the sky.
Maya’s hand was still on my knee, gripping hard. Tears streaming, her smile radiant.
“Dad,” she whispered. “Oh my god, Dad.”
John handed the mic back to the DJ, whispering something in his ear.
A moment later, the opening notes of a slow song drifted across the terrace.
He held out his hand and Nancy took it without a second’s hesitation.
They moved together on the empty dance floor, swaying more than dancing, completely lost in their own world.
This was what it looked like. The daily, unglamorous, showing-up kind of love that filled a house with warmth. And left the porch light on. And made pancakes for a broken kid who wasn’t even yours.
The DJ’s voice came through the speakers. “Alright, all you lovebirds out there, come on and join them.”
I stood up and held out my hand.
The smile Maya gave me reached into my chest and wrapped itself around everything I’d been trying to hold at arm’s length.
She took my hand and I led her onto the dance floor, pulling her in close. She tucked her face into my neck, her long, slow exhale warming my skin as her body softened against mine.
We swayed. The fairy lights blurred overhead. Her fingers curled into my shirt and her breath fluttered against my throat.
I pressed my lips against Maya’s hair and closed my eyes.
The decision settled like a stone dropping into still water. Quiet. Final. I wanted this. More than I’d ever wanted anything in my whole life. And I was done running.
John and Nancy drifted close, Nancy still flushed and teary and smiling.
“Dad.” Maya’s voice cracked on the word. She let go of me and pulled John into a hug. “That was so beautiful, you big softie. You practiced in the garage.”
“Dan told you.”
“He did.”
John chuckled and kissed the top of her head.
Nancy squeezed my arm, her eyes still damp. “I’m glad you’re here, sweetheart,” she said quietly.
My throat tightened. “Me too, Nancy.”
John released Maya, and she slipped back into my arms, her hand settling over my heart.
Holding her felt so perfectly right that my ribs actually ached with it. God, I loved her so much.
In that moment, I knew just telling her wouldn’t be enough. After the push and pull, the silence, the months of uncertainty, my girl deserved more than words. She deserved the grandest of gestures. Solid proof that I was here to stay. Something she could hold on to.
I tightened my arms around her and let the thought take root.