Chapter Fourteen

Dallas

Now

"Seth Whitaker, I'm still young enough to divorce you!" Rose and I laughed hysterically at our parent's fussing in the kitchen.

"Good morning!" I chirped as I watched them fight over the stuffing recipe. They ignored me as they fought for ten minutes about whose turkey tasted better.

"I bought two, Seth. You didn't defrost yours—deal with it!" She raised her hands in a Hail Mary as he shook his head, his hands on his hips.

"Laura, you want to explain to me why you took yours out and didn't bother with mine?"

"Are you saying I purposefully sabotaged your turkey?" My dad winked at me as my mom's blood pressure rose to an all-time high.

"That's exactly what I'm saying." His grin was cut short by a spoon—full of raw dressing—hitting his face. Rose and I ducked for cover as my mom threw spoonful after spoonful, drenching him in her concoction.

"You're such a pain in the ass," he roared, trapping her arms around her body and rubbing the dressing all over her by sliding against her. Rose and I quickly grabbed the broom and cleaned up what we could before resuming the stuffing of the bird. Once we'd completed our task, we looked up to see our parents smiling at us from our former chairs.

"They grow up so fast," my mom said.

"Yes, they do, baby." He pulled my mom into a hug. "At least if the turkey is dry this year, for once, it won't be your fault." My mom pulled away from his grasp and gave him an elbow to the chest. Grant came down and joined us with a smile. "Whoa, what happened here?"

"Oh, nothing out of the ordinary," Rose chimed in, taking his hand and leading him into the hallway for what I was sure was a show of affection. I heard murmurs and promises and tried to be happy for her when the slight pang of envy arrived.

I spent the day in the kitchen utilizing some much-needed uninterrupted time with Rose's fiancé.

"Grant, why the rush to get married? Not that I have any objection," I added quickly while Rose glared at me, popping the ends off of fresh green beans at the table.

"I've wasted enough time with the wrong woman. I want our life to start right now." He smiled at her, completely unaffected by my question.

"That's all very romantic, but you do know she will bankrupt you with the grocery bill alone, right?" I laughed as several beans flew at me from her direction. "She eats like a—"

"Like she's pregnant with triplets. Oh, God, don't I know it. Last night she had a 3:00 A.M. feeding that gave me nightmares. I mean, really? Peanut butter and mayo?"

A fistful of beans hit him in the head as he chuckled. Grant and I spoke at once to egg her on.

"We should record her and put it on YouTube—"

"I leave half a loaf of bread on her nightstand just so— "

"There will be no ganging up on me!" she declared, rounding the corner with her colander of beans.

"Thank God your mom got a thirty-pound turkey," Grant finished as she dropped the beans in the sink and swung the faucet handle on him.

"Go ahead, say something else," she threatened as she turned the water on, holding the nozzle dangerously close to his crotch.

"You two would make Mom and Dad proud," I said, seeing Rose's face burst with pride and her demeanor soften with the words. I laughed as she threw herself in his arms, kissing him repeatedly as he laughed at her outburst. I checked my messages, giving them a moment alone as I stepped outside.

DEAN: Are you home?

DALLAS: Yes, you?

DEAN: Yes. We're having steak.

DALLAS: Oh no, she forgot?

DEAN: Yes, but that's okay. She's doing well.

DALLAS: Come on, bring her over. We have plenty.

I waited for his reply. I missed him terribly, and this was the perfect excuse to see him without worrying about how he would interpret it. I still didn't trust myself, but I was working on it.

DEAN: She doesn't leave this house, Dallas.

DALLAS: Wouldn't hurt to try.

DEAN: I'll see what I can do. What time are you eating?

DALLAS: Around six.

DEAN: Okay .

DALLAS: I really want you to come.

I waited for a reply and got it several hours later when the doorbell rang. My heart soared as I opened it to find Dean gripping his mom tightly to him. She was clearly having a hard time being there, and I instantly felt guilty.

I ushered them inside, and once we got her seated with a glass of wine, I took him aside. "I don't want her to feel this way. You didn't have to do this."

He leaned into me with concern evident in his voice. "I really wanted to come. I mean, she's here. What if it's one of the last times she's able to—"

Loud laughter echoed from the family room as we both stood there. His mom was hysterical as we both turned the corner to find Rose speaking fluent Spanish and waving her arms, completely animated.

"What is she saying?" I asked Dean.

"She's telling her about her favorite soap opera. Apparently, Rose watches Telemundo."

"You're shitting me," I gaped as Dayana tilted her head back and let out another full belly laugh at another of Rose's antics. "Well, looks like you chose the wrong sister," I said apologetically to Dean.

He wrapped his arms around me. "Nunca tuve otra opción."

"Why do you do that knowing I have no idea what you're saying?"

"Because I know it drives you crazy," he answered without apology. Suddenly my dad jumped in, speaking Dayana's native tongue, followed by Grant. I felt like I'd just been transported into the Twilight Zone.

"Okay, you too?" I questioned Grant. "Seriously?"

Grant shrugged apologetically, and I waved them all off .

Dinner was blissful and, at the same time, uneventful. The turkey was a little dry, but we all gave a round of applause for effort. Dayana looked around at us with a peaceful smile but faded quickly after dinner, insisting Dean take her home. She asked for Papa repeatedly, and I noticed that when Dean gave her an excuse for his absence, she was fully aware he was lying and completely lucid. The recollection that he was gone was painful. Though their visit was short, it was more than Dean and I could have hoped for, and I waved them goodbye, saddened by the loss. Dean leaned in and kissed me softly on the lips, fire in his eyes, letting me know he would do much more under different circumstances. I took his kiss and returned it without worrying for once what the repercussions would be. I looked on as he helped her in the car and pressed two fingers to his mouth, then held them up to me.

"Un rayo te golpeó hace mucho tiempo, mi ángel," my dad said behind me. I turned to him, clearly flustered, until my mom stepped in and translated.

"Lightning struck you a long time ago," she said, giving my dad a knowing smirk.

"Okay, apparently, I was absent the days the Whitakers took Spanish," I mumbled, pushing past them to finish the dishes.

That night in bed, Dean texted me things I would never in a million years have recalled, and I replied to him with different memories. The saying that the people closest to you help you remember who you were rang true—now more than ever. His memories kept me alive to him, and mine kept him alive to me. Although our fondest ones were the same and remained the staples in our lives with or without each other—the smaller, more detailed memories reminded us both that once upon a time, though we were young and sometimes ridiculous, we were beautiful. I looked at the clock and a sleeping Rose next to me and decided to ask Dean for more than what he remembered.

DALLAS: I'm ready to ask my questions.

DEAN: Okay.

DALLAS: Don't lie.

DEAN: I promise.

DALLAS: Did you ever think about coming back?

DEAN: All the time.

DALLAS: Why didn't you?

DEAN: The longer I took to get back, the further away I felt, and the more I stayed away, the less I felt I had a right to come back. I was involved with Helena and determined to finish school. I eventually gave up on the thought that you would take me back.

DALLAS: Why?

DEAN: Rose told me you were in love.

DALLAS: Were you…in love?

Of course, he was in love, idiot. He was going to marry her.

DEAN: The part of me that thought I belonged there thought I was.

DALLAS: I wasn't.

DEAN: I think I knew that deep down.

DALLAS: And still, you stayed away.

DEAN: I regret it.

DALLAS: Goodnight.

Damn, the explanation was so simple. Still, it hurt like hell .

My phone rang in my hand, and I answered quickly, but he didn't give me a chance to speak. "I never saw myself marrying her or going through with it, not once." I quickly threw off the covers and snuck downstairs and out the back door. I welcomed the chill in the air as my face heated in anger.

"Why, why didn't you go through with it? You asked her. You got down on your knee." My voice cracked on the last word. The thought of him asking her ripped through me painfully.

"You know why."

"I want to go to sleep," I said quickly.

"No, you're angry."

"Hell yes, I'm angry!" I took deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves. "Let's not do this," I pleaded.

"Ask me anything you want," he encouraged. When I stayed quiet, he continued. "After my dad's funeral, I came to see you at school."

I froze.

"I was so fucked up, Dallas, so lost. All I wanted was to see your face. You managed to find me at Columbia, and your campus was so much smaller, but I waited a whole day for just a glimpse of you and didn't get anything. I thought about us as I waited there, searching for you in vain. When I went home—even though I was still without you—I withdrew from Helena. I never belonged to her. When I decided to move home, I looked you up. I knew you were working at that hospital, and I did what I needed to do to get in there. I didn't know you were still waiting because if I did—"

"Stop it. Stop. I didn't get anything from you, not one phone call, not one fucking text, not one email. You gave me nothing! Why didn't you come to me? Why email my sister? Why couldn't you have just come to me? I was here. I was waiting. I kept my promise!" I cupped my hand over my mouth to keep him from hearing my sobs. The rejection ripped fresh waves of pain through me as I fought for control.

"I'm coming to you. We can't do this over the phone."

"No, answer me," I said quickly, knowing I would crumble at the sight of him. I had waited a long time for the answers I now knew I deserved.

"I was still trying to figure out how to approach you after all that time. I couldn't face you being involved with someone else. And eventually, I didn't care anymore. I wanted to know you again. I had to know you again. I know you don't believe me, but it's the truth."

"You're right. I don't believe you, but damn it…Dean, I want to." My voice shook with emotion, and I was suddenly exhausted. "Dean, I have to go."

"Talk to me, damn it," he snapped, clearly frustrated, and I understood it. I wasn't giving him any help. "I just want to put this behind us."

"I'm not really good at doing that," I reminded him. "I want to trust you. I want to trust me."

"You're still holding back with me. I know that. We can't do this the right way if you do that."

"I know," I conceded.

We remained quiet for several minutes.

"Ask me," he prompted. I let the tears trickle down, knowing exactly what he wanted. It had been on the tip of my tongue and was the only question I truly wanted an answer to.

"Why didn't you keep your promise?"

"I was already engaged," he said so softly that I had to strain to hear. I nodded, knowing that it was the truth all along.

"I'm fine…I already knew that."

"I told you I met her the first year, but we didn't start dating until my second. I wanted to believe that what you and I had was just a young love type of thing. That I would always remember you, but I could move on. That I was right to be in New York and that it was a good thing to try to move forward with Helena. I tried to convince myself that the shooting pains in my chest every time I thought about you would eventually disappear. That the guilt I felt when I had sex with my own fiancée had nothing to do with you. That every time I slipped in the shower and wrapped my fist around myself, it wasn't you that I was thinking about.

"That the rage I felt at the thought of another man touching you was immature and misplaced. It never got better. It never went away, and I considered a good day to be when I fell asleep without you being the last thing on my mind. I want to tell you that when Rose answered my email and told me you fell in love and were happy that I was happy for you. That it didn't feel like I had lost you all over again, and I didn't resent you for it. That some part of me wasn't hoping deep down it would all fall apart for you. But I'm a selfish man, and I wanted you to keep your promise—even though I never kept mine. I wanted New York to fit because it was supposed to, but I was never as happy as I was when we were together. And eventually, my stubborn determination to make my life work there became a daily realization that I was living the wrong life with the wrong woman."

I listened silently as he told me about his regret.

"I won't lie to you and tell you there weren't times I thought it was working, that I wasn't happy and didn't do well—because I did. I was at times. My career took off shortly after I graduated. I got a staggering amount of offers and dived right in with the best one. When that happened, I was, for the first time, happy that I stuck with my decision to stay. But it was short-lived when my dad died. It was a slap in the face for me. I had already accomplished what I set out to do, and none of it was fulfilling enough for me to keep pretending what I was doing was enough."

Men are such idiots.

"Dallas?"

"I'm here."

"None of this is helping, is it?" Gravel filled his voice as I absorbed all he had told me.

"Why did you lie about still being engaged when you got here?" I shut the door to the patio and stepped inside, rummaging through the fridge.

"I don't know."

"Not good enough, Dean."

"I was happy you were jealous. It's wrong, I know, but it felt so good after wondering for so long if you still harbored any feelings for me."

I smiled at that.

"You know I could have done without all the theatrics, Dean. You could've just told me the truth a long time ago."

"You call it theatrics. I call it passionate wooing." He chuckled.

"Don't hide behind your Spanish roots, buddy," I scolded.

"Necesito que me perdones por ser tan idiota, mi amor. Necesito oírte decir esas palabras. Me estás matando." He breathed heavily.

"God, that sounded sexy," I breathed back, suddenly hot with need for him.

His groan gave him away before he spoke his next words. "Should I come and take you away? Make love to you all night and show you just how much I've missed you?"

"No," I said, opening the fridge and taking out the leftover turkey, ignoring my vagina as she waved an angry fist in the air .

"You're still angry?" He seemed surprised, and I shook my head, slamming the Tupperware full of turkey on the counter.

"No…yes." I paused, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice. "You weren't just my boyfriend, Dean. You were my best friend, too. You knew me better than anyone else, and you took that away from me. I needed you. You can't take that back. Just let me figure out where to put all this."

"Okay," he said, sounding defeated.

"I'll call you tomorrow?"

"Okay," he said softly.

"Goodnight, Dean." I hung up without waiting for his response and jumped when the kitchen light flipped on.

"Grant," I said, smiling.

"Oh, woman, you read my mind. Nothing quite as good as a leftover turkey sandwich," he chuckled, joining me. "Do you mind?"

"Of course not. Mayo? Lettuce?"

"I'll make my own," he offered.

"No way. This one is on me." I smiled as he took a seat on the bar stool behind the counter.

"Make it two then." He winked. "So okay, without sounding like a total prying jerk, I did hear the ass end of your conversation. Was that Dean?"

"Why would you assume it was Dean?" I asked, knowing Rose had probably blabbed our history to him already.

"Honestly, I saw how far gone you were for him at the engagement party, and of course, there is Rose," he chuckled. "She coined the phrase TMI."

"Don't I know it," I said, starting his second sandwich.

"She's been really worried about you lately. So, do you want to talk about it?"

"Taking this brother thing seriously, are you?" I teased, and he smiled. It nearly took my breath away. Grant was…beautiful with his shoulder-length dark hair and kind eyes. His size contradicted the air about him. The easiest way to describe him would be a gentle giant.

"Honestly, it takes a sucker in love to see one. I really wouldn't be so damn interested if I weren't on a high of my own. And yes, I want to help." His smile was sincere as I cut his sandwiches in half, then stuck his plate in front of him, following it with a glass of milk. He looked adorable and a little childlike as he smiled in thank you. A dimple made an appearance right before he took a big bite of his sandwich.

"If you were in love with a woman and broke up with her and realized it was a mistake, would it take you seven years to go back and fight for her?"

"Wow," he said quickly.

"I thought so." Taking a big bite of my sandwich, I moaned in appreciation.

Grant thought for a minute. "You know I screwed up like that once. I met a girl who absolutely blew my mind when I was younger. I took her on a few dates and then decided not to get serious. By the time I had figured out I was actually interested in her, I was put in the friend zone."

"How long did that take?"

"Almost a year," he said truthfully.

"Seriously?" I shook my head, condemning him.

"It wouldn't have mattered. I didn't find my match until Rose. I've never been more certain. Live and learn, you know?" We ate for a few minutes in silence.

"Can I be honest with you?" He put down his sandwich and looked at me with caution written all over his face.

"Of course, Grant. "

"Women put a ton of emphasis on things like birthdays, anniversaries, how he proposed, things that matter to them."

"Okay, so?" I tilted my head and looked at him curiously.

"So, men aren't so much interested in things like that. I know I don't see things that way. I know when I found Rose, I didn't memorize what day it was. I didn't give a shit what she was wearing. I knew I probably wouldn't remember how she styled her hair ten years down the road. All I knew was that I was in love and that I had to have her. It takes the time it takes."

"I know it seems like a petty argument, but I can't seem to move past it. I'm trying to wrap my head around it. It just seems like I'm always the first to cave, like he's always late to the party, like he's always late…period," I said, taking another bite of my sandwich.

"Exactly my point. How many times have you heard of a relationship going sour, and the minute the woman begins to move on, the man tries to step back in?"

"I just assume it's jealousy, right? Like some territorial need to keep them hanging on?"

"Not necessarily."

"Okay, brother, I'm all ears." He smiled at my term, and I felt my chest squeeze. I was elated for my sister.

"Do you feel the same way for him that you did seven years ago?"

I nodded a yes slowly. "God, even more, I think."

"To me, being a guy…from a guy's point of view, that's what matters most. I would think that's all that matters to Dean."

"I'm holding a grudge I have no right to hold. I'm mad at all the time we missed, and I'm holding it against him. I hate that he was going to marry someone else."

"Understandable, but you're counting anniversaries you've missed. He's counting on a future with you." I snapped my head up.

"How do you know that?"

"How do you not? I saw the way he looks at you, Dallas. Everyone did."

I said nothing as I stared at the sandwich knife in my hand. I smiled as Grant polished off his second one.

"Another one?"

"Yes, please," he replied sweetly.

"Hell yes, brother. I'll have one, too, then cut us a slice of pie."

He rubbed his hands together, and I could see a softness blanket his features before he spoke. "I love this, being here. Your family is amazing. I never thought I would find …" I saw a flash of pain cover his features and had to fight like hell to keep my tears from coming. "Anyway, I'm just so thankful."

Grant had just lost his dad a few months ago and had no one but Rose. I couldn't imagine the pain he was feeling. I was thrilled this helped in some way, that he was now a new addition to our family.

"My parents love you, Grant. You and Rose are so happy. This is all good. I see good things for the two of you. I was so sorry to hear about your dad. You can talk about him anytime you want."

"He was a good man. Not a picture-perfect dad, but we were close. I imagine I was a handful. He was good to me. I'm blessed to have had him…I miss him." He kept his voice low as if it was the only way to keep his emotions in check. "Anyway, it was pancreatic cancer," he said quickly. "It was slow and painful for him and a hellish nightmare for both of us. Rose is the only reason I smile at all now. I can't even imagine how lost I would be if she hadn't been there. "

I was stunned and furious at the same time. The disease seemed to affect almost everyone I knew. It was always someone's mom or dad or husband or best friend, only a single degree of separation. It was everywhere and a consistent threat to those I loved. In that very moment of his confession—that he was orphaned by my nemesis—I vowed to fight harder, to work longer hours, to do whatever I could.

"I'm an oncologist now," I admitted. "I've never felt a pull stronger than before I made this decision. It just felt so right. I can't explain it. I haven't told Rose. I knew it would alter our plans, and I'm afraid she will never forgive me. You know we're supposed to start a general practice, and I went and changed it all without telling her. I'm trying to figure out a way to make this work before I approach her. Please don't tell her," I pleaded, suddenly terrified I mentioned it at all.

"I won't. But I will say, I think it's a pretty cool thing. I had no luck with the doctors who helped my dad. I know Rose just wants to be a surgeon. I know how much she loves it, and I know she would probably stand behind you one hundred percent. She looks up to you a lot, Dallas. I don't think it would matter to her what you did as long as you did something together. I know I've kind of taken her away from you, but I promise we will make more of an effort as soon as the madness of her schooling and the wedding is over. I know how much she treasures your relationship, and it's important to me, too."

My heart squeezed again painfully, and I couldn't help making my way over to the man I knew was, without a doubt, the perfect match for my sister. I gave him a quick hug, and he returned it, squeezing the life out of me. I chuckled as he pulled back.

"I have a good feeling about this. About you being an oncologist, I mean. I see all good things for you both. You should just tell her. See what happens. I think you'll be surprised. "

I nodded and turned to clean up the mess, capping the mayo.

"Leave it. I'm going to make one for your sister, who I'm sure will be down in a few to make her own."

"You sure?" I said, smiling at his thoughtfulness. I loved that he would be the one taking care of her.

"Of course," he said, rounding the counter. I felt like a tiny human standing beside him as he towered above me. He was truly a unique presence. I could see his appeal and knew exactly why the entire family had taken to him so quickly. I was sold.

"Well, okay, thanks for the talk."

He kept his head down but didn't let me escape the room before reminding me, "Better hurry up before you miss your next anniversary." He smiled, then looked up. I nodded and turned to hurry upstairs. I met Rose on her way down.

"Turkey sandwich." She grinned sleepily. I nodded, already picturing Rose's smile as she found the man of her dreams at the bottom of the stairs, making it for her.