Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
WELLS
“Frost Fest sure has changed,” Wells said, as he and Allison weaved through the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd at the Fairwick Falls town square.
It bustled with happy energy as people walked around with hot drinks in hand, bundled up in scarves and hats. Fairy lights were strung on every branch, and the Frost Fest Maze made of twinkle lights was set up in the center.
“Lily said Nash makes sure the credit union goes all out now that they sponsor it,” Allison said as they walked side by side, sipping hot chocolate.
She had a forest-green beret pulled down over her pink waves, and embroidered forest animals lined the edge of it. Her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink in the cold, complementing those lips he couldn’t stop thinking about.
His lips twitched as he sipped the creamy hot chocolate.
“What?” she said, narrowing her eyes.
“Nothing. You look cute.”
She looked pleased, even though she shook her head. “I had to look cute because everybody’s going to stare at us, thinking we’ll get into a brawl.”
“If they only knew,” he said into his hot chocolate, chuckling. She laughed with him.
He liked it when she laughed.
“Oh, Olivia’s dancers are up,” she said, tugging on his arm as they walked toward the temporary stage set up at the front. Twelve small children in enormous snowflake costumes waddled up onto the stage.
Wells was so proud of Olivia, of how she’d taken her future into her own hands. It had torn him up inside that she’d lived hand to mouth as a professional ballet dancer for so many years, never feeling worthy in that toxic environment.
Allison’s eyes lit up as the ballet dancers walked on tiptoes to music by Tchaikovsky. He’d sat through enough of Olivia’s ballet recitals to know that one by heart, at least.
“I hope we get to have a ballet dancer,” Allison whispered, looking wistful.
Wells couldn’t take his eyes off of her. That raw look of hope and longing—he recognized it as his own. How lucky was he to have found someone who wanted exactly what he wanted?
Who he still wanted to kiss?
And who he loved to make laugh?
Swirling, uncomfortable feelings bubbled up in him as she turned to him with confusion. “What? Do I have chocolate on my face?”
He wiped at a nonexistent drop on her chin as an excuse to touch her. “You wouldn’t mind chauffeuring them to and from lessons?”
“Are you kidding?” Allison said with a wistful sigh. “Tiny little tutus, ballet shoes, or, enormous snowflake costumes.” She pointed at the stage. “Oh no. Snowflake down.”
A traffic jam of snowflakes had resulted in a pile of children in giant foam snowflake costumes piling up in the center of the stage. Allison and Wells both bit back laughs at the adorable chaos as Olivia scrambled onto the stage, and the snowflakes all popped up, apparently undeterred.
“I want to do it all,” Allison whispered at his side.
He felt a feral, guttural need to hold her. Was it too soon for her to take a pregnancy test?
“I think it’s time for our dance lesson,” he said, gesturing his head back toward the diner.
She shook her head as they walked through the festival. “You don’t need to teach me how to dance. Who knows what chaos I could bring down in your diner?”
He chuckled. “Think of it as a head start on the ballet classes you might attend.”
Allison stiffened beside him, her smile now a little more brittle. “Hey, Mom.”
Oh, shit.
He figured he’d cross the meet-the-family bridge at some point, but he felt wholly unprepared right now.
He braced himself for a full dressing down from her parents about the tribulations he’d put their daughter through during her divorce. How he’d made her life miserable since then.
“Oh, hi there,” Allison’s mom said distractedly as she rifled through her purse. A man he assumed was Allison’s dad stood behind her, looking irritated. “We came to get Fox and Forrest beignets.”
“Five dollars a piece,” Allison’s dad added in irritation.
“But they were already sold out.” Her mother tsked. “We’re on our way home. Your father is tired.”
“So many people,” her dad added. “We had to park clear over at your friend’s bakery.”
“Oh.” Allison looked at her dad’s cane. “Do you want me to go get your car?”
“No.” Her mother waved her away. “Your dad’s physical therapist said that it’s better if he walks on it.”
Her mother stared past Allison’s shoulder at Wells who felt the cartoon-like urge to stretch his collar from his neck.
“Hi, I’m Wells,” he said finally, shaking their hands.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Allison shook her head. “This is my, um, friend, I guess? Wells Maroo. Wells, these are my parents.”
“Oh, are you related to Martha?” her mom asked, smiling politely.
Allison hasn’t told them about me?
Not even the bad parts?
“She’s my mom,” Wells said with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you.” He shook Allison’s father’s hand with a firm grip.
They gave no indication that they’d even heard of him.
They exchanged a few more pleasantries, and Allison waved her parents away, asking no fewer than three times if she could help them before they left.
“So, we’re friends?” Wells said as her parents walked out of earshot.
“I couldn’t exactly say, ‘Hi, meet Wells, my former mortal enemy and the father of your future grandchild,’” Allison replied.
“I’m surprised your dad didn’t take a swing at me. Being the big bad attorney for your ex and all.”
She shrugged as they walked through the vendor stalls in the town square. “We didn’t talk about the divorce, honestly. I think it was embarrassing for them. I kept your delightful antics to myself.”
Wells stopped, foot traffic swimming around him. Anger bubbled up inside of him. “They didn’t support you? After what he did?”
He’d had to fend his parents off with a stick to keep them from inserting themselves when he’d gotten divorced.
But she’d been on her own?
She straightened her spine, rolling her shoulders back in a move he now realized was defensive. Showing the world how she didn’t need anything from them.
“It’s fine, I could—”
“Handle it,” Wells said with her. “Yeah, I’ve met you.” He growled, huffing out an exasperated breath. His hand stayed on her lower back as they maneuvered through the crowd.
A maddening impulse to protect her kept rearing its head when he least expected it. From her parents. From herself.
Maybe even from me.
Speaking of. “How are you feeling?” he said tentatively.
“Normal.” She shrugged. “It’s not time for a test yet, and work has been so busy. It’s honestly been a nice distraction so I don’t stare at the pregnancy tests on my bathroom shelf. Have you said anything to your family yet?” Allison asked, looking wary.
“No.” He chucked his empty cup into the trash can as they walked across the street toward the Frost Fest Maze.
“They’re already tired of my crazy ideas.
I hurt Pop’s feelings when I didn’t tell him about the diner, and I let him down by messing it all up.
I want to make sure everything works out before I tell them. ”
Allison let out a noncommittal hum as she crinkled her brows.
“Yes, Ms. Styles? Want to share with the class?” he said, already knowing her thinking face.
“Isn’t that what hurt their feelings, though? That you didn’t tell them earlier?”
He considered the idea but shook his head. “This is different. You’re involved, and even if we did get…” He hesitated at the crowd surrounding them.
“Hot chocolate,” she offered.
“Even if we got hot chocolate, things happen. I wouldn’t want to put you in that position—to announce it and then have it not work out.”
Her smile warmed to one of appreciation. “Thanks. You’re so lucky your mom is the best, and so is Pop. What I wouldn’t give for that. I mean, I love my parents, but...” She trailed off.
“But,” he echoed, understanding her frustration. “It seems like they aren’t there for you.”
She chewed the inside of her cheek nervously as they walked to the diner.
“My little sister is two years younger than me, and was sick a lot as a kid. I feel like I’ve been the third parent since I was six.
When I was little and we’d walk through a parking lot, my dad would take my sister’s hand and I was supposed to take her other hand, her in the middle.
Protected. But...” Allison sighed, biting her lip and blinking quickly.
“I was a kid too, you know? Why didn’t my dad hold both our hands?
Him in the middle, protecting both of us?
” She shook her head as they looked out at the Frost Fest from the diner’s front door.
“Why did I have to grow up at six? Why wasn’t I worth protecting? ”
He ached at her words, at seeing her there, thinking about what a little six-year-old Allison had had to deal with all by herself.
How she’d gotten used to shouldering the extra burden from thirty years of practice. It made more sense now why she never wanted help.
She never thought she’d get any.
“You were always worth protecting,” he said, the admission quietly tumbling out of him. “Still are.”
Her eyes widened in shock.
Like no one had ever told her that.
There were still a lot of things about this woman that irritated him, but he still wanted to make her feel better.
“If we have two,” he said quietly, “I’ll hold both their hands.”
Her mouth twisted with emotion, and she blinked quickly, nodding as she wiped her eyes. “Thanks,” she whispered.
He wanted her in his arms right fucking now. Wanted to fold her into him, to hold her.
He didn’t know why.
“I think it’s time for a dance lesson.” He gestured toward the door, and they walked inside the dark diner.
“Warning: I might take several of your pieces of furniture down with me. In fact, let’s keep the lights off,” Allison said with self-effacing humor. “This place will light up like a Christmas tree and everyone will see how bad I am at dancing.
Even better. He didn’t want an audience when he kissed her.
“Where did you learn how to dance?” she asked as he moved tables to the side, making room.