53. Penelope
fifty-three
penelope
Usually, while my book is with Paula, I take a little bit of time for me to get away from the whole author business. I spend less time on socials, more time with people. I read books outside my genre, and get out to touch the grass. I don’t think I’ve ever worked as hard on one single book than I have on the project I picked up the second I got home from Debbie’s Knit-A-Thon.
I was a little worried that having Ant in the house would be a problem, but he has been so focused on finishing his house that I’m lucky if I even see him throughout the day. It’s for the best, though. I have cried more than once while penning these words, and I know he would’ve wanted to fix it.
This has been my most important “The End” to date. Staring at the words on the screen, I am filled with a boat of peace that holds everything else, keeping it afloat. All of my doubts, fears, reservations, and bitterness have faded into the background; they’re not quite gone, but they’re white noise to what I can feel lies ahead.
I shoot the email over to Paula with strict instructions to only edit for spelling and grammar. I need no notes. This one comes straight from my heart. I don’t need suggestions on the plot. The holes I left were completely intentional. I exhale down to my toes as soon as the email is sent, shut down my computer, and close the lid.
And immediately, my phone rings. I huff out a laugh and answer Debbie’s call.
“Hey, Mama Ellis.”
“Hey, sweetie. How are you?”
“I’m doing good.” And I truly am. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m actually calling with some bad news. I completely forgot that we booked someone to stay in the house over Valentine’s Day. I’m so sorry, Penelope, but you guys have to be out by the end of the week so we can get the cleaners in.”
I knew this day was coming, but I didn’t expect it to be so soon. Not only had I not anticipated moving during the school year, but in the middle of winter, no less. My place is still in the middle of renovations, and while I could move back in, something is holding me back.
“Oh. Oh, okay. Yeah, I’ll start looking into?—”
“You could always come stay with us! We have plenty of room to keep your things, but you’d have to deal with Ed and I. Or, you could bunk with that son of mine.”
“I don’t think I want to be woken up every morning to Grant’s incessant partying,” I tease, knowing damn well she isn’t talking about her youngest.
“Anthony’s got the room, sweetie. All you have to do is ask.”
We hang up, and the peace boat within me rocks just a little. I don’t like change, not after I’ve worked so hard for my stability. There have been too many upheavals within the last year, and though this one certainly isn’t the worst, the time table is a little short. Now, I get to worry about moving all of my stuff in the middle of a school week, and the week of Lucy and Aaron’s wedding. Luckily, we have a hotel for the night of the wedding. I’ll just extend my stay.
With every box I move over to storage, I think back on Ant’s invitation, back when he was encouraging me to quit teaching. He offered to stay at the townhouse so that I wouldn’t have to worry about a mortgage, so that I could focus on writing. Debbie’s mention of staying with that son of hers makes me think about his house with five bedrooms, and of his hand in mine when we’d knitted hats and talked about our next chapter. Could it really be just a few pages away?
“Luce…”
Tears well all the way to my waterline, gathering in big bunches that I refuse to let spill over and ruin my makeup.
“You look gorgeous,” Juliet echoes, dabbing at her own eyes.
“Like a Disney Princess,” Claire adds. “Did Aaron plan that?”
“It’s my little gift to him,” Lucy smiles. So at ease. So happy.
Juliet and Claire both busy themselves with finishing hair and makeup touches, leaving me with Lucy.
“You know, it took me a while to believe I deserved this,” she starts.
Tears well up in my throat. After all that she’s been through, that is a feat in and of itself. She turns to me and takes both my hands in hers.
“You deserve yours too, Pen. Don’t let your fears get in the way of facing them with the love of your life by your side.”
I pinch a watery smile and flip my hands to squeeze hers.
I never thought about it that way—that I was holding myself back from believing I deserved something because I didn’t want the idea of losing it. But the idea of not having Ant altogether is far worse than being alongside him while we fight our battles together.
I register little moments from the wedding.
Aaron’s watery smile as I walked toward the altar, and his fist catching against his chest to ease the sob that wracked through him when his bride entered to an instrumental version of I See The Light . Their rushed kiss, halfway through the priest’s instructions, and the crowd’s laughter when he said, “I just couldn’t wait any longer!” Her dad gave a gut wrenching toast about getting to be by his daughter’s side for her first true love, and that made a tickle climb up my own throat.
The dance floor opens after the initial bride and groom festivities. I dance with my friends—and an entire Italian mob—to old 2000s hits until sweat stains my forehead. Now, as the slow songs start to lull couples into one another’s arms, I scoot myself onto the sidelines with my champagne, watching the happily ever afters that don’t happen on the pages of books. The ones that happen in real life, and stick around throughout all the hills and valleys.
“I believe you promised me a dance to at least one of these ‘cheesy slow songs,’” interrupts the day dream I was having of the same man. The one whose gaze I’ve been avoiding all night long, simply because I knew that once I caught it, I wouldn’t be able to let it go.
I swallow, blink rapidly, and try to focus on the Anthony in the here and now. The one wearing a tuxedo tailor made to his frame in all the right places. My lips part and my mouth instantly becomes the Sahara. He smirks, but when he tries to lift one brow at me, both go up, and I can’t help but break into a laugh.
“I suppose I did,” I say extending my palm to his waiting hand. The moment our hands touch, the rocky swells within me cease.
Ant leads me out onto the dance floor, and though we are a little stiff, my body chemistry seems to settle being in his arms.
“So…” Ant begins. “They walked down the aisle to a Disney song.”
“The cake pops were Mickey-shaped,” I smirk, shaking my head.
He tilts his head back, wearing a wide grin.
“It’s them.”
I shrug. “It is. And it makes them so so happy. I mean, has Aaron stopped smiling this entire night?”
“Only when he was blubbering like a baby.”
“You’re telling me you won’t cry when your wife walks down the aisle?” I ask, lifting a brow.
Really, I shouldn’t have. The look on his face, coupled with the way his hand widens to possess my entire exposed back, and the way he pushes us closer together until we’re breathing the same air, chokes the wind from me.
But then, he softens. Like a full one-eighty flip, he melts in my grasp, so much so that I fear I might have to hold him up.
“I read it.”
He’s quiet. Anthony Ellis, louder than life man, has been humbled by my written word.
“Oh.” I nod a few times, staring at the place where his dress shirt and the purple of my dress collide. “Did you like it?”
A stupid question. Our entire history exposed on the pages. For the man who dealt the blows, it couldn’t have been an easy feat.
“At the end. When they finally pull their heads out of their asses.” He tilts his head back and forth, then narrows his gaze and bunches his lips. “Those saucy parts were a little scandalous though, Ms. Layne. I didn’t realize you had such a dirty vocabulary.”
My cheeks flame as my eyes widen.
“To be fair,” I say, tilting my head from side to side, “they were decently accurate.”
“At the beginning, they were! I feel like, if I spanked you like that, you’d hand me my ass!”
He laughs, and the edges of my heart soften, brightening. I press closer to him, smiling.
“All I’m saying is, I guess I wouldn’t mind you trying, Ellis.”
“Pe nelope Barker! You dog! ”
The hand on my waist slips to my butt, and he squeezes ever so gently, trying and failing to lift one brow and raising both in the process. I smile. Let him press me closer to him. Let the racing of his heart beat up against mine.
“I loved it, Pen. Every single word. Every bit of heartache had to happen so that you could stitch them back together.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, knowing that he gets it .
“Would you mind me trying to fix the things I broke?” he asks in that quiet, shy voice again.
“Anthony…”
My hands slide up over his heart, squeezing before wrapping up over his shoulders and behind his neck, where I play with the hair at his nape. He leans in, tilting his head and huffing out a sigh.
“You already have . I just haven’t been the best at vocalizing my forgiveness. I’m so sorry that I’ve been dangling it in front of you. It’s part of our past, but we don’t have to let it hover over us anymore.”
I snake my hands around his neck, up over his cheeks, where I hold him gently. His eyes are strained when he opens them, like he still doesn’t believe that we have overcome our battles, and that we can face the hills in the future.
“I forgive you, Anthony. Can you forgive me, too?”
“Of course I do,” he says gruffly, his arms tightening around me, the shake of his head contradicting. “But I know me, Pen. All I’ve been good for in your past is letting you down. I want to be the ground beneath your feet. What happens when I’m not?”
“We stop and take a breather, and work it out together ,” I whisper. “What happens when I fail? This goes both ways. Neither of us is perfect, and neither of us is going to be. I want to work this out. I want to fight for all of the good that we have when we’re together. Do you?”
“Yes.” It is immediate—his answer, the shift in his eyes, the way his hands become an anchor against my back. “Yes, I want that more than anything . I just don’t want to fail you.”
Taking a deep breath, I slide my hands back over his heart, and make sure that the turquoise of his eyes is mine before I speak.
“The only way we fail is when we give up on each other. When we fight each other instead of the problems ahead. It’s about how we get back up, remember?”