Chapter 35
thirty-five
SEBASTIAN
I’m not sure why I’m so nervous that my stomach feels funny, but I am.
“You look beautiful,” I tell Indie for the third time since picking her up for our dinner with my parents. She looks over at me and smiles, the apples of her cheeks the prettiest shade of pink, and my chest gives a heavy thump.
I nearly swallowed my tongue when Indie opened the door in a floral print dress with thin straps, a neckline that is just low enough to have me perpetually hard with the amount of cleavage it shows, and a flared skirt that would be so easy to flip up for a little fun.
Her hair is curled and loose around her face, and the gold shimmer on the inner corners of her eyes adds even more dimension to her hazel irises.
She’s stunning. And she’s mine.
With the playoffs in full swing, my schedule has been crazier than normal, so we haven’t spent as much time alone as I’d like.
We lost our game yesterday, so we did end up spending a quiet night in at my place before falling asleep together, since no one was in the mood to go out to a bar and face the fans.
But so much of our time together has been over the phone or video chats, and because of that, it hasn’t completely sunk in that this is real.
She’s here, she’s mine, and she and Lola have decided to extend their stay.
We’re taking some big steps in our relationship, but for whatever reason, going to dinner with my parents feels like a make-or-break event.
There’s no doubt my parents love Indie. They always have.
Despite trying their best to hide it, I know they were almost as devastated as I was when she disappeared.
But my parents don’t hold grudges, and after I explained the situation to them, I think they were more sad for Indie than anything else.
But it doesn’t matter how many times I tell her they’re happy we reconnected. She’ll have to experience it and feel it for herself in order to believe it.
“Seriously, Rosebud. I can’t keep my eyes off you.”
“Well, I hope you can. I’d rather we not get in a car accident.” She throws me a cheeky smile that has me chuckling.
“Don’t worry. I’d never do anything to put you at risk. I’ll always protect you.” No matter what comes, I’ll do my best.
I can’t control what assholes with zero empathy or sense of basic human decency write about Indie, but I can do my best to shield her and go to bat for her.
Indie clears her throat, fingers twisting in her lap while she stares at me with wide eyes. “I believe you.”
I swear to god, the sky opens up and a chorus of angels starts singing.
Reaching over, I intertwine our fingers to halt her nervous fidgeting. It takes a few moments, but soon her entire body softens. I love that I have that kind of effect on her. That I can be a safe place for this woman who’s had far too few of them.
Her shoulders stiffen again when we walk into the restaurant, so I rub circles over her hand with my thumb.
A few heads turn in our direction as the host leads us into the dining room and to the table where my parents are already seated.
At least until they see us. Then they’re up and wrapping us both in hugs.
“You look lovely,” my mom murmurs to Indie, who blushes. “My son is a lucky man.”
Indie’s hazel eyes find me over my mom’s shoulder. “I’m the lucky one.”
“I’m so happy you two found each other again,” my dad whispers low enough that only I can hear. “Don’t let her get away again.”
“Never,” I assure him.
Once everyone has hugged, we take a seat.
Indie and I sit across from my parents, and I can’t help myself.
I pull her chair as close to mine as I can get it and wrap an arm around her back.
There’s no such thing as close enough with Indigo Bloom.
I have a decade of not touching her to make up for, and I don’t care who’s watching.
The conversation is easy. There are no awkward pauses, no heavy silence. My parents and the girl I’ve always loved laugh and chat like they haven’t missed a beat.
Indie smiles and congratulates my dad when he tells her about the success of the restaurant he is now co-owner of.
He tells her he’s proud of her when she tells them about graduating college with honors.
My mom entertains with stories about my younger brothers, Anthony and Isaiah, and about the chaos of the last family gathering with all the aunts, uncles, and cousins.
“So tell me, are you still writing?” My mom leans in, eyes on Indie. “Every time I go to a bookstore, I look for a book with your name on it.”
“Oh.” Indie’s face flushes and she shifts in her seat beside me. Her eyes flick quickly in my direction before returning to my mom. “Um, I am still writing, yes. But you won’t find anything with my name on it at the bookstore.”
My mom reaches over and pats Indie’s hand. “Maybe someday. And when you do, I’ll be the first in line at our local store to buy a copy.”
“Yeah.” Indie shifts again. “Maybe someday. Thanks, Luz. That means a lot to me.”
There’s something in Indie’s tone that has me looking down at her.
Those pretty lips I love to kiss are pressed in a tight, thin line, and I worry this conversation is making her uncomfortable.
Does she feel ashamed that she hasn’t published any books yet?
She shouldn’t. But I know Indie’s always been her own worst critic, so I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.
I lean over and press a kiss to her temple. “You’ll make it big, sweetheart,” I whisper. “I know you will.”
She stares up at me, her features tight, and I wish we were alone so I could press her to find out what has her bothered. But we’re not, so I won’t.
“Is Isaiah still dating that woman?” I ask my parents, changing the subject. “What’s her name again? I should know this.”
My dad chuckles. “Brynlee. And surprisingly, yes.” He turns to my mom. “It’s been, what, six months now? A new record for him.”
Mom whacks dad on the arm playfully. “He’s just a free spirit.”
“Sure. That’s it. He’s never had a relationship last more than a year because he’s a free spirit.
” I chuckle and lean in to whisper the next part in Indie’s ear.
It’s quiet enough that my parents won’t hear, because my mom would have my ass if she did.
“My brother is a complete commitment-phobe. The minute a woman says I love you, he runs for the hills, screaming.”
Indie covers her laugh with her hand.
“Mijo, are you saying mean things about your brother?” My mom glares at me, which makes my dad break out into laughter.
Isaiah’s relationships are a running joke among the men in our family.
But with my mom? That’s her baby. He can do no wrong.
Well, to a point. She’d never stand for him hurting someone.
“No, Mom. Of course not.” I try to hide my grin while my fingers tangle in Indie’s curls. I can’t keep my hands off her, and as much as I love and have missed my parents, I’m counting down the minutes until we can leave so I can get my girlfriend alone.
Pressing another kiss to her temple, because I can’t resist her, my eyes connect with a man a few tables over. He’s whispering with another man at his table, and my stomach sinks a bit.
With every playoff game we win, our faces are flashed across the city and the internet more and more. Hell, I’m pretty sure my face is on at least a few buses here in the Twin Cities. It means we’ve all been recognized more than normal.
I don’t mind meeting fans, taking photos, signing autographs, and chatting for a few minutes. But I know it makes Indie uncomfortable, and I meant what I said when I promised I’d protect her. And that means shielding her from attention as much as possible.
Unfortunately, if the phones pointed in our direction are any indication, that’s a promise I may not be able to keep tonight to the degree I’d like. I can only hope they zoomed in on me and left Indie out of whatever photos they took.
I’ll need to reach out to my agent and ask her to keep an eye on things for me.
She’s good at her job, and though I’ve never needed any kind of crisis management, since I keep a lower profile and don’t fuck around the way some guys do, she does have people on standby if one of her clients needs it.
Not that we’ll need crisis management. Indie’s biggest claim to fame and the most interesting thing about her in the public’s opinion is that she’s Robert and Vivian’s daughter.
That’s the least interesting thing about her, of course, but the public tends to be unimaginative.
Still, Indie has had enough traumatic experiences with intrusive attention that it would be wise to have a game plan in our pockets just in case.
The temptation to walk over to that table and ask them to delete whatever photos they’ve taken is strong, but I won’t. All it would do is draw more attention to us, and Indie would hate that. And when they get up to leave, the opportunity is gone.
At least they had the good sense not to come over and request an autograph or something in the middle of a family dinner. Not everyone has that much consideration.
Conversation continues to flow, and soon I forget all about the table of fans and focus on three of the people I love most in this life.
“You’re going to visit for a few weeks this summer, right?” my mom asks with a twinkle in her eyes. “Both of you.”
I clear my throat, tightening my grip on poor Indie, who has just been ambushed by my mom. Agreeing to a multi-week visit on a whim isn’t something I want her to feel pressured into.
“We’ll talk about it, Mom. You can’t spring stuff like that on Indie.”
“Actually”—Indie clears her throat and glances at me out of the corner of her eye before returning her attention to my mom—“I’d love that. I haven’t been back to Bar Harbor since…” Her cheeks grow pink as she lets the rest of her words hang unsaid, in the ether.
Since she ran away that summer.
Indie chews on her bottom lip as she looks at me. “If that’s okay with you?”
Dropping her curls, I wrap my fingers around the nape of her neck and give it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Of course, that’s okay with me, Rosebud.”
I’d love nothing more.
“Great.” My mom claps her hands, beaming at both of us. She looks so happy, you’d think we announced our engagement, not that we agreed to a vacation. But in her mind, we’re one step closer to that becoming reality.
I hope that’s true.
“We’ll figure out some dates that would work with my schedule and then run it by you,” my dad says. “The boys will be thrilled to see you again, Indie.”
“Yeah. I can’t wait to see them too.” The softness of Indie’s tone blankets my bones. Tonight has gone better than I could have hoped. And now I have a summer trip with my girlfriend to look forward to.
We can’t rewrite that summer after senior year, but we can create new memories so bright that they chase some of its shadows away.