Page 100 of On the Slopes of Tahoe
“I love youbothso damn much.”
The next kiss doesn’t end. It feels like it goes on all night. From the chair beside the fire, to the kitchen counter, to the bedroom. It’s a string of kisses that link together into the beginning of a future.
Breakfast in the morning is a family affair. I make the coffee, at Rory’s insistence, while she cooks bacon and directs Willow on how to make the pancakes. I was concerned she might be giving my eight-year-old a little too much free rein with the batter and skillet situation, but she only burned one. The first one, and even I can’t fault her for that. The first pancake is always a dud.
This kitchen hasn’t seen a Sunday morning breakfast filled with this much laughter, light, and love in a long time. Much longer than I care to admit. It feels like the mornings in Tahoe when we’d all move around each other, getting ready for the day, but the raw undercurrent of love is almost overwhelming now.
We’re all seated around the table when Willow, in true Willow fashion, breaks the ice with a question. “Are you two going to get married?”
I guess she’s not pulling any punches.
I spit my orange juice onto my empty plate and Rory inhales her coffee. She coughs and splutters for a minute, eyes watering. Willow looks between us like we’re misbehaving children.
I mop myself up, answering as I dab at my shirt. “Well.” I look at Rory and her eyes go wide. Neither of us expected this question, but she looks curious about what I’ll say. “We haven’t talked specifically about marriage, so I don’t have an answer for you on that one, Willow Bear.” I shoot Rory a wink. “But Rory and I do love each other. You were right about that.”
Rory looks between us, a small line between her brows.
“Willow knew before we did, or at least before I could admit it to myself,” I say to her, then turn back to Willow. “We want to be together, as a family. The three of us. How do you feel about that?”
My daughter jumps out of her chair and rushes for Rory, throwing her arms around her.
“Do we get to go back to Tahoe?” Willow asks. There’s a brightness in her eyes, exactly like I expected, even if it’s covered by tears. They’re tears of joy.
“We’re still figuring that out. We wanted to talk to you first, because as much as this decision is mine and Rory’s to make, it’s also yours. And—”
“I want to go back to Tahoe. Please, Daddy!” she begs, pulling on my hands now.
I laugh and so does Rory, then Willow joins in, and this feels like the first day of the rest of my life.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Rory
Willow decided after breakfast that we needed to spend the day in our pajamas watching movies and eating junk food. I’m not going to even pretend it wasn’t perfect. It’s only my second full day in Sydney and I feel like we’ve been going nonstop. It doesn’t help that I haven’t gotten much sleep the last two nights to help me adjust to the time zone, but you won’t catch me complaining.
Wes and Joss only made it about three hours before they turned up, also in pajamas, to crash our plans. I couldn’t have asked for a better day with the people I love.
Now, the bonfire burns bright, all of us wrapped in cozy blankets with drinks and discarded paper plates strewn about from the burgers Wes grilled for us.
Willow’s asleep in her chair, and I can’t blame her as a yawn stretches through me where I sit across Breck’s lap. It’s reminiscent of last night, but this time, instead of leaning back against the arm of the chair so we can talk, my head is tucked under his chin. His heart is beating a steady rhythm under my cheek.
“So, what happens now?” Wes asks from across the fire, like it’s the simplest question in the world.
Breck clicks his tongue, chastising his friend.
“What? I’m just curious. You invited us here—” Wes starts again.
“You invited yourself here,” I cut in with a smirk.
“Okay, true, but still. You’re all lovey-dovey over there, Willow looks happier than I’ve seen her in months, so…”
I tilt up my chin and Breck tilts his down. I can’t even speak, too caught up in the emotion, the love swirling around us.
“You’re leaving us, aren’t you?” Wes pouts, jutting out his bottom lip. My eyes meet his and there’s real sadness there.
Tears prick my eyes. I can’t answer. A small part of me wishes we could stay, but we all know what’s best, at least right now, and that’s a move to Tahoe.
“I’m sorry, Wes,” I say, my voice cracking.
