Chapter 22 April
APRIL
When we return to the Culpeppers’ backyard, Cheryl is standing at the kitchen window. She sees our joined hands and breaks into the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. She turns to Mr. Culpepper and he nods.
“Your mom is watching,” I warn.
“I think she knew before even I did. She has this uncanny ability to sense things before they even happen.”
My heart does a full somersault because does that mean she could tell how I felt too?
Thankfully, no one utters a word. It’s business as usual in the Culpepper household with lots of food, fun, and laughter.
We play golf darts with the twins, Claudia shows us around the library where she works, and we go out for rolled-up ice cream bouquets at a new place in town.
That evening, after dinner, we bring the dogs into the backyard for a play session. Clark throws a tennis ball for Scout while Moose tries to steal it mid-flight and Buster supervises from his favorite spot in the grass. Purdy and Lulu chase each other in circles, their joy infectious.
This is exactly what I want. Clark and all of it. The chaos and the amusement and the way he makes everything feel like an adventure.
Clark jogs back over, slightly breathless. “Are you okay? You’re staring.”
“I’m memorizing this moment.”
His expression softens. “Good moment to memorize?”
“The best.”
He pulls me close, wrapping his arms around me from behind as the dogs continue to play.
His chin rests on top of my head—well, on top of his baseball cap that I’m wearing again—and for the first time in ten years, not only am I where I want to be, but things seem to be how I want them—Clark and me, not just friends, but something more.
I mean, we haven’t made it official and had “the talk,” but is that strictly necessary? It feels real. It feels right.
“So, we should probably talk logistics.”
I twist in his arms to face him. Oh, maybe he does want to define things. “Logistics?”
“Like how we tell people. What we do about the campaign now that this is—whether we keep pretending or—”
I notice he doesn’t quite use the words boyfriend or girlfriend. He doesn’t say he wants to be with me. Fails to declare his undying love. Okay, that might be asking for too much just now, but I’m afraid of what it means. So, I opt to play it safe. For now.
“One thing at a time.” I press my finger to his lips. “Let’s just enjoy this. The rest we can figure out tomorrow.” Or later. Or never. That’s fine too. I like this little happy bubble we’re in. No need to pop it.
He kisses my finger, then my palm, then pulls me closer. “I like the way you think.”
The buffalo, already on call, abruptly get to their feet and stand at attention at how swoony this feels. “That’s new. Usually, you say I overthink everything.”
“You do overthink everything. But right now, not overthinking is perfect.”
I couldn’t agree more—just in case this doesn’t turn out how I want, it’s better to keep things undefined. The buffalo return to their at-ease status.
We remain in the backyard as the dogs play around us. The stars begin to emerge overhead, and I let myself just bask in the happiness. The relief. The absolute rightness of being in Clark Culpepper’s arms.
When we get inside, the savory scent of leftovers fills the kitchen.
We eat dinner surrounded by warmth and acceptance, and I realize this is what I’ve been missing my whole life.
Not just Clark, though he’s the most important part.
But a family that celebrates instead of criticizes.
That supports instead of judges. That loves unconditionally.
Later that night, as I pack for our return to Nebraska tomorrow, I get a series of notifications from the Knights Wags group chat.
Jess: How was everyone’s Easter?
Heidi: By that, she means April.
Ella: TELL US EVERYTHING.
Whit: Did something happen?!
Jess: We need details!
Margo: The Culpepper twins texted Mikey, who told Pierre, who told Cara, who told ALL OF US.
Heidi: And???
I show the messages to Clark as he gathers some of the dogs’ toys so we don’t forget them. “That was fast.”
“Should I tell them?”
“Tell them everything. They’ll find out, anyway.”
I type quickly.
Me: It’s real. We’re together for real now. Not fake.
I mean, I think that’s what Clark meant. He didn’t spell it out. Then again, neither did I. I’m pretty sure we’re on the same page. I hope so. The response is immediate and overwhelming.
Ella: I KNEW IT!
Whit: FINALLY!
Jess: THIS IS THE BEST NEWS!
Margo: I’m already planning engagement party themes.
Cara: Margo, they just got together.
Margo: A girl can dream.
Heidi: We need a full debrief when you get back.
Gracie: I have the perfect romance novel for this situation.
Me: You guys are hilarious. Also, the best. Thanks for being good friends.
And I mean it. Yes, they can be intrusive and overzealous, but I’ve never felt so elated. Nothing, not even their nosiness, can bring me down.
Ella: We know. Now go enjoy your real boyfriend.
For now, I’ll go with that even though he didn’t ask me to be his girlfriend. I pocket my phone and turn to find Clark watching me with twinkling eyes.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Everything is perfect.”
And it is. Despite the decade of misunderstanding. Despite the fake dating. Despite all the complications and chaos. Everything is finally, perfectly right.
My phone beeps again, but instead of another message from one of the girls, it’s from an unknown number.
Unknown Number: Hi, April. This is Sophia Snodgrass-Schuster from JW Real Estate. I’m confirming our meeting on Thursday morning at ten. See you then!
My stomach twists and sinks because underneath it all, I’m aware that reality is waiting. I still have to secure the lease on the commercial space on Thursday. We still have to finish out the Love at First Wag campaign. Clark still has playoffs approaching.
He still hasn’t made us official.