36. Stop beating around the bush.
36
"Stop beating around the bush."
Aaron Miles
My pulse is quickening, my hands are clammy, and I'm two seconds away from throwing up my guts all over Coach's front porch.
“Relax,” Marissa says as she takes my hand, grounding me in the moment. “It's going to be fine. We have a plan, remember?”
“Right.” We discussed it all night, this morning when we woke up, and on our way over here. Focus on the positives. Tell him we're sure of ourselves, that we’ve given this a lot of thought, and that we're happy. Because after all, that's what any parent wants for his children, isn’t it? Happiness.
Yet as she rings the doorbell, I’m still convinced he’s going to kill me.
“Hey, you two,” he says, opening the door. He's all dressed for work, wearing a navy-blue suit and a tie.
“Hey, Dad.”
He takes Marissa into his arms, lingering a few seconds longer than usual since he hasn't seen her since the hospital incident. When he pulls away, he offers me a smile.
“Son,” he says, shaking my hand. “What's going on? To what do I owe the pleasure of this morning visit?” He closes the door behind us as we enter the foyer.
“Sorry, Dad,” Marissa says, taking the lead—just as we discussed. “I know you're busy this week, but we won't be long.”
“It's all right.” He walks to the kitchen. “I have time for a quick breakfast. At least I'll have something in my stomach today.”
“Dad!” Marissa scolds. “Did you forget to eat again? You have to be more careful.”
Normally, I’d chastise him a bit, or at least remind him of that time we went hiking and he didn’t have a proper breakfast. But today, I keep my mouth shut.
“I know. I know,” he says, wa ving a hand in dismissal as he glances at me with a smile I can barely return. “I get lost in the game sometimes. So, what's going on?”
“Can we sit down at the table first?” Marissa suggests, twirling the ends of her hair.
Probably a good idea. I’m about to pass out.
“Uh-oh,” he groans. “I have to sit down for this? Now I know it’s serious.”
We take a seat at the kitchen table, and I try to focus on the swirling designs of the marble. Only I keep imagining my nose becoming a new part of it.
“First of all,” Marissa starts, both palms resting on the table. “We want you to know we both love you very much. This is not a spur-of-the-moment decision, and we’re both adults.”
“And we’re happy,” I chime in. Let’s not forget that part.
“And we’re happy.” She nods, glancing at me with a smile that makes all this anxiety worth it.
“Okay, what's going on? Stop beating around the bush,” Coach grumbles, raising his voice a few notches.
“We're dating,” Marissa blurts out.
Coach’s eyebrows furrow. “Who?”
“Aaron and I.”
“Dating, together ?” he asks, frowning so hard, we can barely see his eyes anymore.
“Yes.” Marissa nods vigorously. “We’re in love.”
Coach’s eyes fall on me, but I can’t read his face.
“We are,” I confirm, taking Marissa’s hand. She starts to caress mine with her thumb.
His gaze drops to our hands, his face still scrunched in confusion. “Uh, really? How long has this been going on?”
“What, the dating part or the love part?” she asks.
He arches an eyebrow. “Aren’t they the same thing?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Definitely not,” I breathe out, unable to keep my mouth shut.
“We’ve been dating for about two weeks, but we've been in love, well, for years.”
Coach’s blue eyes flutter closed, and a smile breaks onto his lips. “I always assumed as much. Why on earth did it take you so long to figure it out?”
“What?” Marissa and I both say at once. Well, she says it. I’m more exhaling my relief that I won’t end up as a decorative element of his kitchen table.
“You knew? Why? How?” Marissa demands, shaking her head. “I’m confused.”
“ You’re confused?” Coach arches an eyebrow. “I’ve been confused for years, watching you two act like you’re brother and sister when you obviously loved each other.”
This has got to be a joke. I rub both hands on my thighs, trying to make sense of this. “But you always said any guy who tried anything with your daughter would be a dead man,” I say, trying not to sound accusatory. “That she was off-limits to anyone on the team. Even back in middle school.”
He shakes his head slowly, like he always does when he starts getting frustrated. “I didn’t mean you! You’re like my son, Aaron. Of course I’d be happy to see my little girl and you together. I think that goes without saying.”
“Um.” Marissa winces. “Not really. You’re kind of part of the reason why we never admitted our feelings for each other until now.”
“Me?” He pokes himself in the chest. “Nonsense! I’ve been trying to help you two get together for years.”
Marissa and I both gasp, and my jaw might have just hit the floor.
“What?” he continues, his eyes on Marissa. “Why do you think I’m always asking about your love life in front of Aaron? That’s a pretty clear hint. And the off-limits thing was to keep the coast clear for you,” he adds, pointing at me.
At this point, I’m not even sur e any of this is real. It feels way too much like a parallel reality.
“I hope you’re less subtle with your hints at work,” Marissa mumbles.
“Come on.” He shakes his head as if we’re completely delusional. “I’ve been calling you ‘son’ for years. I was hoping one day you’d really be.”
“Seriously?” I blurt out. All these years, I couldn’t have been further from the truth. His words touch me.
“Of course,” he says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve always been like a son to me. I couldn’t be prouder to see my daughter by your side. Well, except maybe if you officially became part of the family.” He winks, and I freeze.
Marissa’s cheeks redden. “Dad! Are you serious right now? We just started dating.”
“And? Isn’t that where it’s headed? You guys have been in love for years. It won’t fade now.”
I glance at Marissa, a small smile pulling at my lips. He’s right. I’d marry her right this minute if I could. I know she’s always wanted a small ceremony. But she’s freaking out a bit, so I think I’m going to wait a few months before popping the question.
“So, was I really the only reason you kids didn’t start dating earlier?”
“Well, we were scared of ruinin g our friendship too,” Marissa mumbles.
“That’s silly. A big part of any romantic relationship is friendship. Trust me, your mom was my best friend.”
“Dad,” Marissa says, her eyes glassy. She takes his hand.
“It’s fine.” He places his other hand atop their interlocked palms. “She’s not physically here, but she’s never too far. And I’m sure she’s proud to see you two finally come together. I know I am.”
“Thanks, Dad. I can’t believe we waited all this time.” She glances at me, and I smile, my body finally decompressing from all the stress. “It feels so silly now, right?” she adds.
I nod, and we both laugh.
Coach clasps his hands. “Should we eat something? All that serious talk made me hungry.”
“Absolutely,” Marissa says with a chuckle as she gets up. She places a kiss on her dad’s cheek and walks to the counter.
I stand up to help her, but Coach places a hand on my shoulder, forcing me to sit down. “I meant what I said, son.” He fixes his eyes on mine. “I never imagined my daughter with anyone but you. I know you’ll make her happy.”
I’m about to answer, but before I can, he leans forward and mutters, “now, I know she can be a handful, and relationships aren’t always easy. But you’re a tough guy, you’re tenacious, and you’ll give it your best shot. Am I right?”
“Of course.” I nod eagerly, trying to hold back my laughter. “I know her well. Don’t worry.”
He chuckles. “And if things don’t work out between you two—and I don’t think that will be the case, but we have to prepare for every possibility, just like in hockey—”
Here we go. This is the part where he threatens me. I knew I wouldn’t get off scot-free.
“Then I hope it won’t change anything between you and me,” he says, his eyes welling up. “You’re the son I never had. You’ll always be part of my family, and I hope I’ll always be part of yours.”
I press my lips together and close my eyes to contain my emotions. All this time, I was scared that dating Marissa could endanger the bond I have with Coach. Now here he is, telling me the exact opposite. How could I have doubted that connection we share, even for one second? Of course that’s how he’d react. Coach and I are solid. “Coach, you are my family. Nothing will ever come between us.”
He gives me a curt nod, but his e yes are brimming with emotion. “Atta boy.” He leans forward to wrap me in his arms, and I take a second to appreciate this embrace. It’s probably the most meaningful hug of my life.
All these years, I’ve felt like I had one foot in the door of this family and one foot out. But for the first time, I’m all in. In fact, I feel silly for ever doubting that I had anything to lose. Families are forever, and this is mine.
Marissa Martin
During breakfast with my dad, we laughed and talked as if nothing had changed. Which is funny, because in a way, it’s true. Yet at the same time, everything has changed. Because Aaron casually had his arm around me as we were chatting, we exchanged knowing glances, and I even stole a kiss when my dad went to grab his briefcase for work. Things I once only dreamed of are now coming true, and I didn’t know it was possible to be this happy.
“That went great,” I sigh from the passenger seat as Aaron is parking at the end of Warlington Lane. “Just like I said it would.”
He smiles, putting the car into p ark. “You were right. Actually, it went even better. Who knew he was rooting for us all this time?”
I laugh as we get out of the car. “Right!”
Coming around the car to meet me at the front, he takes my hand and makes me spin. “Everything fell into place,” he says, kissing me on the forehead. “I can’t believe how lucky we are to have each other.”
“We are.” I smile, wrapping my arms around the back of his neck. He guides me backward until I’m pressed against the car. I rise to my toes, stealing a light kiss, but it quickly turns into more. The kiss deepens from a gentle brush of the lips to something more urgent, more passionate. Aaron’s hands tighten around my waist, pulling me closer, until there’s no space left between us. I can feel his heart pounding against my chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my own. His fingers thread through my hair, tilting my head back to deepen the kiss further. The world around us fades away. There’s only the heat of his body, the taste of his lips, and the way he makes me feel—like I’m the only person that matters.
“I love you, Marissa Martin,” he says, pressing his forehead against mine.
“I love you, Aaron Miles.” I draw my finger down his cheek, catching my breath.
He flashes his perfect smile, mak ing my heart jump. Then he kisses me, again and again.
And I know we have nothing to worry about, because we’re finally right where we belong. Deep down, I always knew Aaron and I were end game, but at the same time, it looks a lot like a beginning .