Page 71 of From the Embers

If you’d have told me this could be my future a few months ago, I would’ve laughed. Funny how things turn around quickly when you least expect it. I even put a proposal to Adi: if we moved in together—after dating, of course, because she deserves to be wooed—I could switch my shifts to nights so I could take care of Hope until she’s ready to go back to pre-school. Adi could quit the bar and open her own design studio—she’d have her nights free, and we’d line up the same two days off. When I put the proposal to her, she burst out crying again.

I know she’s just moved here and it’s a lot, but I have savings. I can help her reach her dreams, and there’s a quaint little shop in Old Town that would work perfectly for her.

Plus, she’s already lined up her first client: Ellie’s mom.

My parents were surprised when I told them the news about me and Adelaide, but they’re happy for us, just as I knew they would be. It’s new for all of us, and I’m sure it’ll take some adjusting, but all that matters is that it’s what we both want.

“Well, I don’t care what you say,” Mom goes on as if I haven’t spoken. “I’m here to look after you, and make your life more comfortable. I know you have Adi, but she’ll be at work some of the time, and me and your father don’t take up much room.”

Dad and I share a look but I don’t say anything. I also, somehow, refrain from laughing. It hurts too much. This is what Mom does, and I love her for it.

“Bodhi’s gonna love all the attention,” I say.

“Well, I have to visit one of my grandbabies since neither you nor Abby are giving me any anytime soon,” Mom grumbles.

“Will you leave the boy alone?” Dad tsks. “He’ll be kicking us out to a hotel before long.”

Mom gives Dad an ‘I don’t think so’ look. “Ha, that’ll be the day!”

I love them both, but they worry far too much.

I don’t want to say anything to my parents just yet about the possibility of fostering Hope. For all we know, there could be hurdles we’re not even aware of. I want to try, though, for Hope’s sake. The idea that this poor kid could go somewhere bad is equally terrifying as it is unthinkable. She deserves better. I know checks are in place to ensure kids go to good homes, but I’ve been around long enough to know that isn’t always the case.

“There she is!” Mom says, just as Adi comes around the corner.

“Shoot! I’m sorry!” she says, sprinting towards us. “I got held up.”

I know she’s been to see Hope, and I wanted to go too but we both decided that her seeing me like this might distress her. So we kept it to ourselves. I think the shock of me and Adi being together is enough for both of our parents for one day. Each day at a time.

“It’s fine,” I tell her when she pecks me on the lips. I don’t miss the beam from my mom. “You’re good. It’s gonna be a slow walk to the car anyway.”

She nods.

“How was your morning?” I go on, hoping to hear more.

Adelaide knows to not blurt out where she’s been or what she’s been doing, so we speak in our own little code. “Everyting was perfect,” she says. “Really good. Happy.”

That makes me smile, but what I really want to do is get my girl home. Her place. My place. I don’t care.

“I’m glad.”

She smiles up at me. “You look good upright.”

I smirk. “You don’t say?”

“He needs to get out of this stuffy place,” Dad grumbles. “It’s making him cranky.”

Adelaide laughs, but Mom is having none of it. “Leave him be,” she scolds Dad. “He’s perfect as he is.”

Yeah, I’ve always been a momma’s boy, and Adi knows it. She gives me a knowing look and I give her a wink in return.

We’ve so much more to do.

And this is just the beginning.

epilogue

Adelaide