The reboot, p.27
The Reboot, page 27
“Hey.” I drop my hand onto Will’s forearm. “When are we going to see your parents next?”
His face when he turns toward me is wary, like a bobcat scenting a nearby cougar. “We don’t have to see them ever if you don’t want to.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m saying, why haven’t they invited us over to dinner lately? Did I offend them?”
His brow furrows. “I thought you wanted a little space. They were getting a little too involved, right?”
Bless his little heart. I’ve been a total monster. “Not at all. I feel bad, actually. I think I overreacted.”
His mouth drops open a bit, and his eyes glance around as if he’s looking for a hidden camera.
“Stop.” I shift my body toward him and bump the side of his arm with my shoulder. “I wasn’t that crazy.”
Only, I think maybe I was.
“I’m sorry I overreacted so badly when your parents were just being nice.”
“You already apologized,” he says.
“But I didn’t really mean it.” My lips twitch a bit.
He laughs then, and I join him.
“I’m glad you finally mean it.” He’s smiling broadly. “And I’m sure my parents would love to see us any time.”
I glance at my watch. “When do they go to bed?”
“Wait.” He looks around the dining room, where everyone’s putting on jackets. “Do you mean, like, right now?”
I shrug. “Why not?”
“I mean, it’s kind of late, and Aiden.”
“Beth’s at home with him already. She won’t mind if we’re a bit later.”
“I knew you made the right call inviting her to live with you,” Will says.
“It was a blessing in disguise,” I agree. “No drama, really, and free babysitting. Plus, Aiden loves it. Though, I am starting to wonder whether she was desperate to stick around because of Ethan.”
“Ethan Brooks?” Will’s eyebrows rise. “Are you kidding?”
I shrug. “But back to your parents.”
“Are you suggesting we stop by my parents’ place, like, right now?” Will asks.
“I don’t want to stress them out,” I say. “But yes, that was my idea.”
“You were listening too closely to all that cheerleading about families and small towns, weren’t you?” His eyes sparkle.
He always sees right through me. “Maybe.”
“I don’t want you to do or say anything you’ll regret tomorrow.”
“You really think I might regret telling your parents that I appreciate them and that I’m sorry for overreacting to their kind gesture?”
Will shrugs. “The thing about my parents is this: they’re very well intentioned, but dealing with them is sort of like dealing with a puppy. If you pat a puppy on the head, it gets all excited. In fact, dogs in general are a good analogy. Did you know that when you tell a dog ‘good boy,’ its brain has an actual chemical reaction in response to that? Depending on the dog breed and personality, it sometimes has the same effect as a hit of heroin does on a human, lighting up multiple pleasure receptors at once. That’s why some dogs totally freak out with excitement when you pay them attention.”
“What does that have to do with your parents?” I grab my purse and stand up.
Will walks me out the door, waving and saying goodbye as we pass people. Once we reach his truck, he opens my door and helps me in. Only once he’s sitting next to me in the drivers’ seat does he continue.
“Like dogs that want love, my parents want to make me happy. They would have had a dozen kids if they’d been able to, but they only had two. Their entire life is their children, and we love them for it. But now. . .” He drops his hands on the steering wheel, facing straight ahead.
He turns slowly to face me.
“Once I told my mom that I loved the lasagna she made. I had lasagna every time I went to her house for weeks, and she also made me a few and put them in my freezer. Within a month, I was so sick of lasagna that even the thought of it made me sick.”
Oh.
“It was important that I explain that their kind gesture was too much, and that it wasn’t appreciated, not because I wanted to hurt their feelings, but because they’ll keep doing things to try and make sure you like them. You have to set boundaries with my parents, or they’ll love you too much.”
Too much. His family loves him so much that it can be too much. That it can be annoying how much they want to lick his proverbial face. “Maybe I wouldn’t burn out on lasagna as fast as you do,” I say. “You’ve had it your whole life, but it’s new to me.”
“My mom’s worst nightmare, and probably my dad’s too, if I’m being honest, is that I’ll marry someone who doesn’t like them.”
I think about what he’s saying, and it just deepens my resolve. “Your parents love you so much that they’re practically racing to make sure I like them. But even before we were dating, your mom gave me and Aiden a free place to stay, no questions asked. She’s always been kind. She’s always been considerate. So even if I have to eat lasagna every night for a year, I’d like to go over there and tell them ‘good boy.’”
Will smiles then, and he puts his truck in drive.
“Speaking of. . .” I learn new, cute things about Will every day. “How do you know so much about dogs?”
Will keeps his eyes fixed on the road.
I drop my hand on his arm. “Seriously. Where’d all that dog brain chemistry stuff come from?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “Maybe I’ve been thinking it would be fun to get one.”
“Wait, you want a dog?”
He’s still at 10 and 2. His hands are never at 10 and 2.
“William Earl, tell me what’s going on right now.”
“I like you, Donna, and I was thinking about Christmas gifts a week or two ago, when you had your meltdown about the baby shower gift, and I thought, hey. Maybe, since things are going well, we get a dog to raise together.”
My heart expands.
“But I don’t really know a lot about them, so I figured I should learn and I bought a few books.”
“You bought a few books?” My lips are twitching with suppressed mirth. “How many is a few?”
“Three.” He rolls his eyes and glances sideways. “So what? I just read them in my free time, okay?”
Now my heart is definitely fluttering. What kind of sweet guy thinks about getting a dog—together—and then buys books so he can be an expert at taking care of it? My boyfriend, that’s who.
“You should never cheat on me,” I say.
His head whips toward me so fast I’m worried he’ll get whiplash. “What? I would never.”
I laugh. “That’s good, because if you ever did?” I bite my lip. “You’re terrible at keeping secrets, Will. I’d catch you immediately.”
He scowls, but he doesn’t argue. When we reach his parents’ house a moment later, the porch light isn’t on.
“Maybe we should come back another night,” I say. “I don’t want to wake them up.”
“Trust me,” he says. “It’s fine. They’ll be watching television in the back room.”
“If you’re sure.”
He cuts the engine and hops out. “I am.”
By the time we reach the front door, my palms are clammy and my mouth is dry. It’s been way too long since we came to see them, and it’s all my fault. I’ve already driven a tiny wedge between Will and his parents, and I didn’t even mean to do it.
That might be a lie.
I don’t like sharing him with anyone, and after the whole scolding they got for the putting-an-offer-down-on-the-ranch thing, they’ve pulled way back. Per Will, I’ve already started to set in motion their worst fear. I wish he’d told me that before.
The best I can do is try and fix it now that I know.
I follow Will to the front door, my anxiety ratcheting up yet another notch, and twist my hands together compulsively. Just as Mr. Earl opens the door, Will reaches back and takes my hand in his. He’s smiling in such a reassuring way that it calms my nerves, just a hair.
“Oh,” Mr. Earl says. “I didn’t expect to see you two. We didn’t forget something, did we?”
I shake my head. “Not at all.” My voice came out all squeaky, so I clear my throat. “We just left a party and thought we’d drop by to say hello.”
Mr. Earl swings the door wide open. “Come on in.”
“Who is it?” Mrs. Earl shouts from across the house.
“It’s Will and Donna.”
“Oh!” Mrs. Earl must have scrambled to her feet and shot out of the room, because she practically darts through the hall and into the open entryway, a broad smile on her face. “Is everything alright?” She brushes her hands down her shirt and pants as if she’s nervous they’re messy.
“Totally fine,” Will says. “We just came by to say hello.”
“Come sit down, then.” Mrs. Earl gestures toward the family room, and then starts walking there herself.
She waits for us to sit down first, as does Mr. Earl. I choose the right corner of the plaid sofa, like I always do. Will sits next to me and drops an arm over my shoulders.
“I’m so happy you came by,” Mrs. Earl perches on the edge of one of their armchairs. “I guess Aiden’s with Beth?”
Will nods. “It’s been pretty nice having her around.”
“You can always bring him here, too,” Mrs. Earl says. “We’d love to play with him for the night.” She looks so earnest that I could kick myself.
How could I have thought she was trying to manipulate me? Or that they offered on the ranch because they thought he wasn’t good enough to inherit Will’s ranch?
“That’s good to know,” I say. “Sometimes it’s hard to find a babysitter.”
“I should drive into town and buy some toys.” Mrs. Earl claps her hands. “What kinds of things does he like?”
“Legos,” Will says immediately.
“And Pokémon,” I say.
“Transformers,” Will adds.
“Really anything ‘manly.’” I laugh. “He loves helping Will with cars, too.”
“It sounds like that boy needs his first toolset,” Mr. Earl says. “I got Will one around this age.”
“Honey, some mothers worry their children might hammer a nail through their hand.” Mrs. Earl widens her eyes at me as if to say, Don’t worry. I’ll take care of this crazy idea.
“Nonsense,” Mr. Earl says. “That’s how boys learn.”
“I’m not sure—”
“I’ll just put together a few boards he can hammer nails into, and some things he can screw on and off.” Mr. Earl chuckles. “Will used to spend hours hammering useless nails into things.”
The idea of Will as a child, hammering a board full of nails, makes me smile. “Remind me not to let your son build me any furniture.”
The Earls both laugh.
Will looks annoyed, which just increases my delightment. Is that a word? Maybe it’s just delight. . .
“Is everything alright?” Mr. Earl asks. “It’s not that we aren’t happy you’re here.”
“It’s just that we want to make sure everything’s okay,” Mrs. Earl says. “But if there’s something we’re doing wrong, you can tell us.”
And that breaks my heart. “I’m so sorry,” I say. “That’s really why we came by. You two tried to do something kind for me, and I took it all wrong. It wasn’t your fault, but I haven’t had a lot of kind things done for me in the past, so I misinterpreted everything.”
Mrs. Earl’s lower lip trembles.
“Now that I feel like I do understand your intentions, I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for not getting it before.”
“Oh.” Mrs. Earl nods.
“We’d like to see you more often, too,” I say. “Like, maybe every Sunday night? And maybe we could pick a day and let Aiden come play—like a date night for us and a grandparents’ night for you?” Oh, no. I did it. I took things too far.
Mrs. Earl and Mr. Earl exchange a glance I don’t understand, but I don’t know how to take it back. Happy families are complicated, too.
“I mean, we could also just do every other week, and I can cook once a month so it’s not all on you.”
“We’d love it,” Mrs. Earl says. “I’m always happy to cook—and every Sunday is perfect. I know how tiring it is to work all the time and then be responsible for making dinner for two kids.” She glances at her husband and he nods. “And we’d be delighted to have Aiden come over every Friday night.”
Mr. Earl’s beaming.
“Speaking of work.” I cringe a little inside, thinking of how forward this is, but I squashed their efforts the first time, so now it falls on me. “A while back, you mentioned that you might like someone to help with the hotel?”
Mrs. Earl blinks.
Will looks like I splashed him with a bucket of cold water. Maybe I should have asked him about this first.
“The thing is, my job’s ending, and I’ve loved it, and I’ve learned a lot, but the new position in the area is not really something I want to do.”
“So you do want to come work at the hotel with me?”
“I’d love to hear more about what you have in mind,” I say. “I’m not keen on just cleaning rooms and replacing toiletries as my whole job, but if there’s a chance to learn about hotel management, and if I could help you out at the same time, then yes.”
Mrs. Earl beams, and then she stands up. “Of course, I’d love to have you come work with me.” A tear rolls down her cheek.
Her earnest countenance reminds me of my mother.
She was the only person in my family who was ever truly happy for good things that happened in my life. I miss her—more than I realized. She died, and then I really had no one. No husband who would keep me safe. No father who would have my back. And no brother to call in a pinch.
I was all alone.
When Abby and Amanda adopted me, it felt amazing to have friends. But this is different somehow. It’s like, for the first time in years, not only do I have friends, I have family.
I stand up, too, and step toward Mrs. Earl.
She pulls me in for a hug.
I’m still pressed against her when she says, “I’m so happy you moved back and that you gave my Will a chance. He loves you so much.”
I freeze then, because Will and I have been dating for a while, but so far neither of us has said the L-word. . .
Mrs. Earl releases me. “Did I say something wrong?”
It’s only then I realize that I’m crying, too. I shake my head slowly. “No, you said something very, very right. I should have said it a while back, and I suspect your son hasn’t said anything because I’m a little spooky, like a fractious horse.” I turn slowly toward Will, and I smile. “You waited on me, and then you waited more. You’ve given and given and given, and it’s high time for me to tell you that I love you, Will Earl. I love your smile, and your big, strong hands, and I love your generosity and acceptance.”
He’s standing in front of me suddenly, and he takes my hands in his. “I love you too, Donna, more than you can possibly know.”
“Oh, just get a room already,” Mrs. Earl says. “In fact, I know a place.”
We all laugh, then.
And I suspect we’ll be laughing for a long time to come.
26
Amanda
My last engagement party was much, much nicer than this one. We had a ballroom booked. The food was catered. Paul’s parents paid for all of it, and his mother planned the whole thing.
I hated every second of it.
This one is much more my speed.
It’s funny. After Paul died, I could have left New York City and moved somewhere much less expensive. I could have found a job that was simpler and much more consistent with pay than being an influencer. Yet, that possibility never occurred to me. It wasn’t as if I would really consider moving to Gonzales, Louisiana to live near my family.
That wasn’t even home when I lived there, but after living in New York for almost a decade, it really wasn’t home. But what’s the strangest of all is that somehow, the life I never wanted, a life of caring more about how my life looked than how my life was became my actual life. Sometimes, we wind up living in a way we don’t even want to live without ever realizing it.
We just fall into it, one minute, one hour, and one complacent day at a time.
If that lawyer hadn’t called, and if I hadn’t essentially been strongarmed into coming out here, I’d never have broken free. It’s hard to know you’re stuck in a bubble when you’re inside of it.
It’s not until someone bursts it for you that you realize you were trapped all along.
As our friends and family slowly leave, I lean on Eddy’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
“For paying the tab?” He sighs. “I don’t have a rich brother, so, sadly, I’m stuck footing the bill myself.”
I can’t help laughing. “Sure, paying the tab is good. But I meant to thank you for being patient with me.”
“He’s a frigging saint,” Mandy says. “You really haven’t thanked him for that before now?”
“You’re still here?” I shake my head. “You’d think by the age of one hundred and four, you’d know how to read a room.”
Mandy cackles. “I’ll have you know that my mother immigrated here from Latvia in nineteen fifty-one—I was already thirteen years old.”
“Wait, you weren’t born here?” I have to change everything I know about her.
“That’s why Jedediah and his brother were so keen on me,” she says. “I was the new girl in town when I showed up.” She fluffs her hair. “We Latvians are famous for our blonde hair and blue eyes, and mine were quite a sight.”
“I can’t believe how many things I still don’t know about you.”
“Well, pay attention better, girl. I’m an open book.”
“An open book?” I roll my eyes. “I’ve combed through all your records. Nothing in there says Latvia.”
“I didn’t say we came through legally.” She snorts. “You think Saddler is a Latvian surname?”
