35. Twenty-Five And Can Finally Drive
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE AND CAN FINALLY DRIVE
ROSIE
“No.”
“Rosie, you can do this.”
I look up at the building on the other side of this windshield. Vancouver Drive Test
. Absolutely forking not
. I pin my arms across my chest and shake my head. “Adam, no. I can’t do this. I-I-I…I’m not ready. I’ll fail.”
“When have you ever failed at anything?” Adam twists in his seat, taking my hands in his. “Rosie, you’ve been practicing so much. You’re doing incredible, and beyond that, you’re an extraordinarily safe driver.”
Translation: anal.
I’m an anal driver, and we both know it. Adam has lovingly reminded me that I can go a teensy bit over the speed limit and still be safe, but I’d rather continue driving my way: taking my foot off the gas pedal and letting us coast every time I get one or two miles over.
“I already know the examiner is going to be so impressed with how well you maintain the exact speed limit at all times.”
I narrow my eyes at the amusement dancing in his. “I know you’re laughing at me in your head, Adam
.”
He chuckles, pulling my hand to his mouth, sweeping a kiss over my knuckles. “I would never laugh at you. I only laugh with
you.”
“I’m not laughing,” I argue, lifting my shoulder to nudge Piglet’s tongue out of my ear when she sticks it there from the backseat. She settles on licking my temple. “Is this why we picked up Pig? Brought Bear? So everyone can watch me fail? And on my birthday, no less.”
“Connor, tell Mama she’s not gonna fail.”
“Mama no fail!” he shouts from the backseat.
I can’t tell you how often I’ve wished I had the same faith in myself that Adam and Connor have in me. They make it seem so easy, so natural, the way they believe in me. What I wouldn’t give to live one day inside the head of a person who never second-guesses themselves.
Adam runs his thumb over the dimple in my chin. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Overthinking. Forgetting how amazing you are, how many strides you take day after day to be better than you were. You get behind the wheel every single day, whether it’s with me, Archie, or Marco.
Whether we’re practicing for two hours or just running to Starbucks.
You constantly put one foot in front of the other and work on your goals and your fears.
You inspire me every day, Rosie. Even on your hard days. ”
“Do you wake up every day and think to yourself, ‘What can I say to Rosie today that’ll make her fall even more in love with me?’”
“Pretty much. I need you head over heels if I have any hope of getting you to change your last name one day. Every morning I wake up and ask myself how I can get us one step closer.”
“Shut up,” I say, all giggle-snort as that familiar heat climbs up my neck. Scuffing at the floor of the truck, I mumble, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“Rosie, what would you have done if you knew three weeks ago that you had your driving test today?”
“I would’ve lost at least three nights of sleep catastrophizing everything that could possibly go wrong, had a handful of anxiety attacks, and I definitely would’ve thrown up this morning.”
He smiles gently, brushing my bangs back.
“I wanted it to be a surprise so you weren’t stressing and in your head about this for weeks.
It was too much time for you to second-guess how much you’ve learned in these last two months.
” With my chin in his hand, he brings my lips to his.
“If you’re not ready, or you simply don’t want to—it doesn’t matter the reason; you don’t need an excuse—just say the word.
I’ll turn this truck back on and we’ll go get birthday cupcakes.
There isn’t a rulebook saying you have to do this. But you can
do this, Rosie. And if we leave here today without trying, that’s okay. As long as you walk away knowing you’re capable.” Another kiss, this one everything so inherently Adam. Sweet, soft, that bit of force that coaxes me wide open. “I believe in you.”
I glance at my son in the backseat, chattering on to the dogs who look at him like he’s their whole world. His sweater says Mama is a superhero
, and when Adam dropped him on the bed this morning wearing that, I thought it was simply a sweet gesture for my twenty-fifth birthday.
“Do you really think I’m a superhero?” I whisper to Adam.
“I know you are. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. You take the impossible and make it possible.”
Truth is, I feel like most things in this world are possible with his hand in mine.
Maybe that’s why I take a deep breath and step out of the truck.
And maybe that’s why, fifteen minutes later, when I drive off with the examiner in the passenger seat and Adam, Connor, and the dogs on the walkway, holding a poster board that says Go, Mama, Go!
I feel like I might actually
be a superhero.
And maybe, just maybe, when I pull up to the curb forty-five minutes later, that’s why I get to jump down from the truck, hold up my final grade with shaky hands, and shout out a sentence I never thought I’d get to say.
“I’m a licensed driver!”
* * *
“I have five cars. You can use one of mine.”
I open my mouth to politely decline, but Carter holds up a hand.
“Wait, it’s six. I have six cars. ’Cause Ollie won’t let me get rid of Red Rhonda.”
Olivia’s face lights. “You can borrow Red Rhonda! She’s such a great little starter car. I got her used when I was seventeen. She—”
Carter covers her mouth with his hand, pulling her back against his chest. “Once she starts on Rhonda, she doesn’t stop. And trust me, Ro, ol’ Rhonda isn’t gonna get you anywhere, except stuck in a ditch.”
Olivia frowns, ripping his hand away. “That was one time. She just needs new snow tires and she’ll be good as new.”
Carter’s gaze locks with mine, and he shakes his head, discreetly cutting a hand across his throat.
“I’ll probably keep up with the bus while I save. Maybe that’ll be my first big purchase after I graduate in the spring, when Connor and I get our own place.”
“You mean when you move in with Adam?” Carter asks, then grips his shoulder when Olivia gives him a little whack there. “Ow! Don’t make me tie those hands up, Ollie girl.”
She rolls her eyes. “The move-in discussion is one for them to have, not them plus you.”
“But—”
Olivia silences him with nothing but the fierce look in her eyes.
“Fine,” he grumbles. “But it’s not like Adam’s gonna let her go somewhere else. He’s pretty
obsessed with her.”
My gaze flicks to Adam beside me, only to find him already watching me. He winks, and the simple action, paired with him pushing that giant wagon with both Connor and Ireland inside, and
Bear and Dublin, Carter and Olivia’s golden retriever, sends a heady rush of blood to my head. He’s so innately at home in this role as a family man, like he was made to fill these shoes, and damnit, he does it so well.
It’s been two months since we’ve seen Brandon, and I haven’t heard from him once.
I knew that was it, the moment we walked out his door.
I knew there would be no going back, that he would take the easy way out, the one he’d probably been searching for since the beginning.
But if I’d had a shred of doubt, it would have dissolved in flames the night Archie came home from work, said he saw a pile of Connor’s things set next to the trash on the curb out front of Brandon’s condo.
The picture in my head was gutting, and once Connor was in bed for the night, I curled up on the couch and cried in Archie’s arms. The knowledge that it was so easy for Brandon to let go of Connor, to liken it to taking out the trash, it hurt like hell.
And yet, Connor hasn’t asked for him once.
His days are filled with more love now than they ever were, people who put themselves in his life because they want to be a part of it, and my boy is thriving, absolutely glowing.
I have so many incredible people to thank for that, but the one who’s made the biggest difference recently is the man standing next to me.
The one who picks him up early from daycare while I’m still in clinic, keeps him home for the day because he missed him so much while he was traveling.
Sings and dances with him in the living room.
Walks him to the local school at dismissal time just so he can see all the buses coming and going.
Lets him make a mess at the kitchen counter while they make breakfast together.
Wears bubble beards and bubble hats with him.
Reads to him while they’re lying in bed at night.
Loves him, unconditionally, the way a child is meant to be loved.
Nostalgia stokes a warm fire in my chest on this chilly November evening, reminding me of the childhood I had, all the ways my parents loved me and showed me every day.
All I want to do is give Connor a childhood like the one I had, and I hope somewhere, my parents are looking down at me, proud of the life we’re living.
Proud of me.
“Sorry, fellas. We’d love to give you two special permission, but you have to leave the wagon here. The bridge isn’t fully accessible, unfortunately.”
“The bridge?” I swing my head around, realizing for the first time that we’ve veered off Capilano Road, that we’re now in the entryway to some sort of park, talking to a smiling attendant.
I watch Adam and Carter take the kids out of the wagon, securing them to their chests in carriers.
The sight is so fucking attractive, but I can’t fully appreciate it in this moment. “What bridge, Adam?”
“Right on time too,” the attendant continues. “The lights go on in five minutes.”
“Lights? What lights? Adam, what lights?”
He just smiles, taking my hand, pulling me forward. My heart threatens to pound right out of my chest, because the only bridge and lights I can think of are the ones my parents were supposed to take me to see exactly thirteen years ago, on my twelfth birthday.