Chapter 21
Seven years earlier
“You really didn’t have to come,” I tell Liam, shutting the passenger door. “Grammy understands how exhausting residency is.”
Liam reaches into the back seat of his dented Ford Explorer, from where he extracts a foil-wrapped pan of lasagna.
“And miss Grammy’s seventieth birthday party?
No way.” He says it with a smile, but I can see the bags under his eyes and the heaviness of his posture, like the mere act of standing up might be too much effort.
Liam’s in his second year of residency and full-time master’s program, so it’s a big deal that he’s agreed to spend his only free Saturday for three weeks at my grandmother’s birthday party when I’m sure he’d much rather be rotting on the couch.
“We don’t have to stay long,” I tell him, taking his hand as we make our way toward the door. “Just give me the signal and we can go.”
“The signal, eh?” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. “Is that what you were giving me last night?”
I playfully roll my eyes, even though we both know it’s been a while since we’ve given each other signals of any kind.
In between long shifts at the restaurant and trying to squeeze in writing when I can, and Liam’s grueling hours at the hospital, most nights we are too tired to do anything other than eat leftovers and pass out in front of the TV.
Sometimes the sounds of late-night Tupperware infomercials wake us up long enough for a half-cognizant quickie on the couch, but that’s only if Liam didn’t work the night before. Or I didn’t just get off a double shift.
It’s not exactly the height of romance, but we both understand that this is a temporary arrangement, and it won’t always be like this.
In two years, Liam will be done with residency and his master’s program, then he’ll apply to fellowships in medical oncology, and we’ll finally be able to start our life together.
Though where that life will take place, I’m not sure yet.
Liam’s already been approached by fellowships all over the country. Boston. Chicago. New York. He’s thrilled and so am I, but I’m also nervous about what this might mean for us.
What if Liam accepts a fellowship on the other side of the country and we have to move? What if this puts a strain on our relationship? What if my mom goes through a depressive episode after another breakup and I’m not there for her? What if. What if. What if.
I want to lean in to the excitement of this new chapter for Liam, but the worries keep stacking up until I feel like I’m suffocating under the weight of them.
Liam and I approach the stained-glass double doors and ring the bell.
As a kid, I remember getting excited anytime Mom dropped us off at Grammy and Gramps’s, knowing I would get my own room and Grammy would have all the good snacks Mom usually couldn’t afford.
Now, twenty years later, the same house feels a lot less magical and a lot more like a graveyard littered with the ghosts of my wasted potential, as Gramps calls it.
The doorbell chimes and a moment later my mom appears, her hair wrapped in some complicated updo with a scarf, with massive hoop earrings to match the eclectic collection of vintage bracelets rattling on her wrist. If I didn’t know any better, I might assume she’s just stumbled out of Coachella or Stevie Nicks’s closet.
Her eyes brighten and she pulls us into big bear hugs like we’ve just returned from combat.
The first thing I notice is that she smells like weed, which Grammy is probably upset about, but I take it as a good sign. When she’s going through a breakup, she drinks. But when she’s in love, she smokes.
“Liam! So good to see you,” my mom croons, squeezing him a little tighter.
“Good to see you, too, Ms. Larsen.”
She wags a finger at him. “How many times have I told you to call me Maggie?”
“I think I’ll need to hear it once more, Ms. Larsen.”
She beams at him, and Liam’s smile stretches impossibly wider.
He might not open up to me about his own family, but it feels good to see him happy with mine, to feel like in some small way I’ve been able to give him the family he’s been missing.
My mom leads us to the backyard, where she introduces us to Steve, a tall guy with tattoos and shoulder-length hair who is a regular at the bar Mom just started working at.
After Steve wanders off looking for a beer, she pulls me aside and tells me it’s serious with him and she thinks he really could be the one. But she says the same thing about every single guy she’s ever dated.
“Does he have a job?” I ask.
“He works at a bank.”
“An apartment?”
“With an in-unit washer and dryer.”
“Any baby mamas?”
She gives me a look. “You really don’t trust me, do you?”
“I do, I just…” I glance toward Steve, who is shamelessly checking out Bella. “Don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all.”
Her gaze softens. “I know, baby, but love is about taking risks. Sometimes that means kissing a few frogs before you find your prince.”
As much as I want to protect my mom from any more frogs, I can’t help but admire her fearlessness, her ability to get back up and keep looking for love time and time again.
“Just be careful,” I tell her. “Please.”
Her mouth spreads into a smile, the kind that says I’ll try, before grabbing each of us one of Grammy’s homemade brownies.
“How are things with Liam?” she asks.
“Good.” I bite into a brownie, chewing before I add, “Liam’s looking at fellowships for after residency.”
Her eyes light up. “That’s great. I’m sure he’ll have his pick of programs.”
“He does,” I tell her. “Out of state.”
Her brows knit together. “You’re moving?”
“We don’t know yet. It’s just something we’re talking about. But it’s a definite possibility.”
“And how do you feel about that?” she asks.
“Scared,” I admit.
“What are you scared of?”
Everything, I think. I’m not like my mom, who can just go wherever the wind (or a man) takes her.
“The idea of moving across the country terrifies me,” I tell her. “What if it puts a strain on Liam and me? And I can’t imagine being away from you.”
Or not being here when you need me, I think.
She squeezes my arm. “Do you think Liam is the one?”
Before Liam, love was something hazy and hypothetical.
Something that happened to other people.
But now love is something concrete and real and Liam-shaped.
The way he kisses me good morning and refills my tea without being asked.
How he always asks me what I’m reading and listens when I tell him.
How he cares about the things that matter to me because I matter to him.
Sometimes I think maybe my life didn’t start until I loved Liam, until my heart learned to love and be loved, like maybe this was what I was made for.
To spend forever cherishing and being cherished by this formidable, brilliant, caring, sweet, loving man who makes my heart swell so big, I think I might break.
“Yes,” I tell her without hesitation. “I love him.”
“Then everything will work out,” she says, giving me a smile. “I promise.”
I smile back at her, hoping she’s right.
After we fill up on homemade brownies and lasagna, Liam and I catch up with everyone.
Liam might be running on fumes right now, but he never lets it show.
He laughs at all my brother’s cringey jokes and asks the right questions about Bella’s senior year science fair project.
He even notices Grammy’s new haircut and asks for her brownie recipe.
And when Gramps tells Liam he’s old friends with the chief of medicine at the university hospital and that he’d love to introduce them, Liam beams and tells him he would be honored.
It’s rare to get a smile out of Gramps, but Liam manages to get three.
As much as Gramps is still disappointed in me for dropping out of med school, I can tell dating Liam has cushioned the blow. Like by virtue of a kind of transitive property, some of his sparkle has rubbed off on me.
I pretend to listen, smiling politely as they talk hospital politics until Gramps turns to me. “Roslyn, any news on the job hunt?” he asks.
I jolt, surprised to find myself the focal point of Gramps’s attention. “I’m not really looking for another job right now,” I tell him.
“So you plan to just work at a restaurant forever?”
He says it like I sell feet pics on the internet and not like I work at a neighborhood bar and grill that serves half-price wings every Tuesday between 3 and 6 p.m.
“Well, no,” I say, my voice wavering ever so slightly. “But it’s a good job while I figure out what to do next.”
“And what is next, Roslyn?” I swallow hard, eyes jumping to Liam, who is in conversation with Jonah about applying to fellowships.
So far, all my writing has gotten me is a bunch of rejections, each one taking a jab at my already withering self-confidence, and I’ve started to wonder if this was all a mistake. If Gramps was right.
“I’m not sure yet,” I admit, feeling myself shrink under the intensity of his gaze.
“Hmmm.” That’s all he says. It’s not even a real word, and somehow it cuts worse than any scathing remark could.
I wish I could tell him how much I love writing, that I’ve begun work on a new manuscript I’m excited about, and I’m hopeful this one might be the one. But I already know that unless I’m announcing that I’ve decided to return to medical school, he won’t be impressed.
Gramps looks at me a moment longer, his eyes sharpening like every fiber of my being is endlessly disappointing to him—a look I’ve seen directed at my mom more times than I can count—before returning his attention to Liam.
They return to talking about Liam’s master’s program and the kinds of research he is interested in doing while I excuse myself to grab a beer from the kitchen. I’m sticking my head in the fridge when Liam comes up behind me, his hands folding around my waist.
“Liam, you scared—” But the rest of the sentence dies on my tongue as Liam presses his lips to my neck while his hands travel down the front of my dress, fisting the fabric like it’s all he can do to keep from ripping it off me right here and now.
“I have to tell you something,” he murmurs into my skin.
“If you’re going to tell me that we should go upstairs and lock ourselves in the guest bathroom, then yes, I agree.”
“As much as I love that idea, it’s something else.” He pauses, nibbling on my ear. “Something your grandfather just told me.”
“What’s that?” I ask, my breath coming out in short gasps as his lips trail down the side of my neck, lingering just above my shoulder.
He halts his movement, then spins me around to face him. “He just told me he’s friends with someone in the oncology department at the university hospital and there’s a fellowship opening there if I want it.”
It takes a moment to transition from thoughts of sex in the guest bathroom to a fellowship, but as I do, my hands fly to my face.
“Ohmygod! Are you serious?”
He nods, his eyes flashing with excitement. “This means we can stay here in Seattle, Ros.”
I imagine there must be champagne bubbles in my belly, making me feel impossibly light.
For a moment we just stare at each other, the joy on his face a mirror of my own. But after a beat, the expression dissolves, replaced with a trio of lines in his forehead as though he’s just realized something.
“What?” I ask with a nervous laugh. “Do you not want the job? Do you—”
“We should get married,” he blurts out.
I blink. “What?” I ask, sure I’ve misheard.
“I said we should get married,” he repeats, the words coming out firmer, more assured, like the last two seconds were all he needed to solidify them.
My brows narrow in confusion. “But we said we’d wait until after you finish your residency to get engaged. Right?”
“No—I mean, yes.” He shakes his head, limbs practically vibrating with nervous energy. “We had said after residency, but I don’t want to wait that long.”
“I don’t understand—?”
But before I can even finish the sentence, Liam’s dropping to one knee in front of the fridge.
“Roslyn Larsen, I’ve spent the last two years wanting everything with you.
From that very first night we met, I’ve wanted to be the reason you smile.
The thought that quiets the worry in your brain.
The memory that makes you blush. I want to be your easiest I love you and your hardest goodbye.
The reason you feel safe and loved. And I want to keep doing that forever, for as long as I have the privilege of being yours.
” He pauses, his warm, tender eyes flashing to mine, before in a whisper of a voice he asks, “Will you be my wife?”
I swear my heart stops. No, everything stops.
“Are you serious?” I ask, my voice as breathless as I feel. “Are you really asking me this? Right now?”
His chin bobs up and down, excitement building behind his features. “I am. I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. I love you and I want to spend forever with you.”
All the air rushes out of my lungs, and I press my palm to my chest, willing my racing pulse to slow down.
I knew this would happen. Eventually. Neither of us has been shy about our desire for a future together.
But this is so unexpected. So out of left field.
One minute we’re talking about staying in Seattle, and the next Liam is kneeling on the kitchen floor proposing.
But past the shock, I know I want this. I want this life with the man that I love.
The man who makes me feel braver, more certain than anything in my life ever has.
So I say the only thing I can think to say. The only thing that makes sense. “Yes!” I cry. “Of course I’ll marry you.”
There’s a brief moment of stunned silence, then we’re both crying and laughing as he pulls me into his arms and spins me around the kitchen, telling me how he’s going to buy me a ring, how he just has to finish residency then we’ll get married and start our life together.
You and me, he whispers into my skin. Forever.
I try to memorize the moment. Everything from the yellow sundress I’m wearing to the faint taste of chocolate on Liam’s lips as he kisses me over and over, telling me how he can’t wait to marry me. How much he loves me. And I say it all back, my mouth moving hard and fast against his.
There’s no ring, no candlelit dinner, but none of that matters because tonight I have everything I could ever want.
I have him.