32. One Week Later

32

ONE WEEK LATER

LILA

W e were lucky that the snow patrol arrived at the scene shortly thereafter, and that the storm cleared the following day. I really thought we weren’t going to make it for a second, but Bristol was there to scare all my doubts away. When we eventually made it back to the cabin with my towed car, his parents had quite the understandable meltdown. Bristol searched on foot for me. In nothing but a flannel. With nothing but a tiny particle of hope. He didn’t care what happened to him. He risked his life for me. And there are no words in the world that could express my eternal gratitude.

Before Bristol and I returned to Riverside, we decided to leave Summit’s ring somewhere to honor her memory—to give Bristol the closure he’s been too scared to seek for himself. Since Summit’s grave isn’t in California, we settled for the next best thing. Down by the lake, there’s a large pine that was a paradise for him and Summit away from the real world. He carved their initials into the base of the trunk, which have since been scabbed over by the changing seasons. I watched as he buried her ring by the stump of it. We stood there long enough to witness the snow pile over, and I held him until the storm waned to nothing but a drizzle.

It's been easy acclimating back to our normal lives. I’m not sure where Bristol’s modeling career stands, but mine is locked down. Since I’ll be one of the leading models for Kitty’s Catwalk, I have a plethora of projects lined up for the upcoming year—everything ranging from more brand advertisements to a runway show promoting some of the biggest names in fashion. My influencer lifestyle is over. Now I can do what I love on a bigger scale.

As much as I loved the change of scenery of Big Bear, I couldn’t wait to return home. I couldn’t wait to reunite with our family. Faye’s temporarily living down here in Riverside to help co-parent—resuming her studies online until she graduates—which means that Kit spends all his time at their luxury apartment on the outskirts of town. (Yes, that man owns two triple-story apartments in two different states.) Gage and Calista have a ways to go before they want to settle down, but they’re attached at the hip. Casen and Josie are on a traveling kick before they start a family, Hayes and Aeris have set their wedding date for early next year, and Fulton’s still avoiding women like they’re all carriers of mad cow disease. Life’s amazing, and no matter where our paths lead, we’re always going to come back to the heart of it all—a lived-in, questionably decorated mansion that has the feng shui of a frat house.

Christmas with Bristol’s parents was something out of a movie, but a belated Christmas with the Reapers has a chaos and disorder to it that I’ve missed. A sheet of early-morning warmth trickles in from the east-facing window, drenching the living room in a gilded afterglow that lofts over the plastic, ornament-bound tree in the corner. Tongues are loosened from a late night of too many eggnogs, a picked-apart gingerbread house spikes the air with the aroma of cinnamon, and a speckled thrush trills somewhere in the faraway distance, acting as our new, impromptu holiday soundtrack because none of us are awake enough to endure “Here Comes Santa Claus” on a soul-killing pop beat.

Torn pieces of wrapping paper leave a trail of carnage all over the carpet, and one hyper Eda keeps scooping them into her sticky hands, showing them to Kit with unparalleled excitement. Ever since she helped rip open her tower of expensive gifts, Kit looks like he’s one eye blink away from falling asleep completely. Most of the presents under the tree were for Eda, but there were a few gag gifts among the guys—including a pair of candy underwear, a rag embroidered FULTON’S CUM RAG, a ball gag—though I suspect that will be used unironically—and a jar of miniature plastic babies which I fear will be used for evil.

Aeris and Hayes are bundled up in a blanket, talking softly with one another and working on their mugs of hot cocoa. Kit’s on baby Eda duty while Faye gets a power nap in before she has to pump again. Josie’s in the kitchen baking some sugar cookies for all of us to frost together (with Casen bugging her every step of the way), Fulton’s loading up a new story-based video game that Gage gifted to him, and Gage…well, Gage and Cali are making out hardcore underneath the mistletoe. So that just leaves me and Bristol, who are sitting in our own little alcove away from everyone else. We were going to exchange gifts at his parents’ house, but he wanted to give me my gift here.

I can’t believe this is my life now. Not only do I get to share Bristol’s wonderful parents, but I also get to share these wonderful people in front of me. Forever.

I pull out a box from underneath my stash of blankets, feeling a warm fuzziness—not eggnog-induced—curl in my stomach. Bristol hasn’t stopped staring at me. He’s all dopey and lovesick .

I glance down at the red, velveteen package in my hands as a smile flits across my lips. “You know, when I was stuck in the snow, there was only one thing that kept me going,” I say.

“My incredibly handsome face?” Bristol asks, doing that terrible, terrible thing where he cocks his head and slices his tongue over the front of his teeth.

Heat swarms my cheeks in what I imagine is a very obvious blush, but the moment my unspoken truth pierces the forcefield of our reality, tears encumber my eyes. “Your playlist kept me going. I was on the verge of a panic attack, and it helped me calm down. I felt so alone after our fight, but after listening to it, it reminded me that there was someone out there who loved me.”

I’m trying to keep it together. Really, I am. I don’t need the whole house listening to my sobs.

I hand Bristol the box before I lose my vision to the hormones, doing all I can to stave off the tsunami with futile swipes of my sleeves. “These reminded me of you when I saw them online. I need you to know that I’m always thinking about you, even if we’re not talking.”

Bristol’s hands shake when he opens his gift, and although he’s not as susceptible to tears as I am, I can see emotion shine through his brandy-colored irises like prismatic drafts of sun through stained church glass.

“They’re touch bracelets,” I explain through the sniffles. “You tap on the little heart-shaped screen in the middle, and it sends a signal to my bracelet that lets me know you’re thinking about me. And vice versa.”

Before he says anything, he taps on it probably fifty times in quick succession, eliciting a laugh from me that disperses these goddamn tears. “You, uh, you have to charge it first, then hook it up to the app.”

“Angel, this is…” He struggles for words, eyes riveted to it like I’ ve just given him his firstborn child, and his lips melt into a contagious smile. “This is the best gift anyone’s ever gotten me. Thank you. I love it.”

His gaze then targets me, his pupils go wide like a cat’s does right before it pounces, and I don’t have any time to prepare myself before he attacks me with kiss after kiss. “I”—kiss—“fucking”—kiss—“love”—kiss—“you.”

I squeal and squirm while I’m assaulted with pillow-soft kisses, but he doesn’t cease—no, it spurs him on to reach for the most ticklish crevices of my body. All that love I’ve been missing my whole life—from my father and myself—is made up for right here, in this living room, surrounded by my favorite people in the entire world. Every cornerstone of my heart sparks to life, the sadness so far behind me that I can’t even see it in my rear-view anymore.

When Bristol finally takes a breath, he’s hovering over my balled-up form on his hands and knees. “I’m glad that you found the playlist. I spent a whole week working on it, not knowing exactly what you’d like. But I kind of went out on a limb and picked some songs that made me think of you. Songs that can be…just ours .”

Since he’s close enough, I brush the backs of my knuckles over his cheek. “They’re perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Angel, that’s all you. Buuuttt, I did manage to use my ‘perfection’ for good and get you the best Christmas gift in existence.”

Oh, God. I know I should be reassured, but I’m terrified. Bristol could’ve gotten me a number of things—a hot pink dildo, a lifetime supply of my favorite frozen, chocolate-covered strawberries, a cardboard cutout of his face. Whatever he got me, it’s extravagant, expensive, and may be disturbing to some viewers.

I sigh, though it’s good-natured. “You didn’t have to get me any?— ”

And then I hear it. A yapping sound. Not fully a bark, but a yap—the kind of yap that comes from a very small, purse-sized canine. Fulton’s also disappeared from the Christmas-bombed premises, so I have a sneaking suspicion that he’s been hiding a furry stowaway up in his room this whole time. There’s a quick patter of paws, and then a scruffy-looking dog comes bounding into the living room, wagging its adorable little rat tail and doing a drive-by sniff test of everyone in the immediate vicinity.

I can’t believe Bristol adopted a dog. He was so heartbroken over Rocky, so adamant that he’d never find love in another pet, but he took the risk and opened his heart back up. I mean, the proof is in the pudding. And here’s said proof, all dirty, raggedy, and looking like he’s lived through two world wars. His eyes are a bit rheumy, one of his bottom teeth snaggles out from his lip, and he wheezes like a high-powered fan that’s been beaten with a baseball bat. Repeatedly. But he’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

Baby Eda is ecstatic by our new guest, clapping and burbling her approval in her father’s arms. The little dude trots over to me and starts smelling around—probably because of my perfume and hopefully not because Bristol’s already scent-trained him—burrowing and pawing at the blankets I have strewn around my waist.

“Surprise! This is Alfie. Alfie, this is Lila. She’s your new mommy,” Bristol introduces, scratching Alfie behind the ear as his tongue lolls out of his mouth. He’s pretty set on curling up in my lap, and now that Bristol’s got him on a serotonin kick, his dog breath wafts over my face, but I can’t really be mad about it. I’m going to love this used tissue until his little heart gives out.

I pet the length of his back, and surprisingly, his fur isn’t as wiry as it looks. He’s soft, and there’s something endearing about the way his big, black eyes twinkle up at me like this is his first time experiencing life .

“I adopted him from the rescue that your mom works at. Thought we could give him a better home here,” Bristol tells me.

Alfie circles around in my lap, tucks all his legs in, and forms a ball inconveniently on my bladder. Then he puts his head down and starts to fall asleep. I was wrong when I thought my tears had been escorted off the premises.

“I love him, Bristol. And I love you .”

Ugh, I don’t want to cry again. My thoughts are suspended in limbo right now, and my sensibility has never been one to stick around, so it’s not surprising that I don’t immediately notice Bristol kneeling on the ground in front of me. I look down through a watery gaze to find his blurry figure reaching into his pocket.

A blend of shock and disbelief snares in my chest. “What are you?—”

It’s very obvious what Bristol has brandished in front of me. A marquise ring perches between two cushions, the subtle yet expensive-looking diamond glistening in the low light.

“Lila, from the moment we first met, I was enraptured by you—by your confidence, your compassion, your beauty. I knew the power you had over me, and the more I got to know the real you, the more I feared that the world would take you from me. So when I cut things off the first time, it was the hardest thing I ever had to do.

“That entire year, I spent every waking day regretting my decision. I spent every waking day knowing I’d never find anyone like you ever again. I put on a brave face for my teammates, my friends, the outside world…but I was a mess inside. Everything seemed darker after I pushed you away, like I was trapped in a tunnel with no end in sight and no shred of light to lead me to the surface. There was nothing that made me happy anymore. I was nothing but a self-pitying loser just going through the motions. It wasn’t until I saw you again in that cold, di smal boardroom that I felt the first spark of life ignite inside me.”

Shock trickles down each vertebra of my spine, and a menagerie of butterflies assails my stomach, peer-pressuring my tears into returning for one last encore.

Don’t cry, Lila. Don’t cry. Keep it together.

“You haven’t made any of this easy, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way. All those jabs at my ego made me fall even harder for you. You made me work for your attention, your trust, your respect. You fought me every step of the way, and that’s what made me fight harder. God, and when I finally got to see a glimpse of your vulnerability, I knew for certain that you were the only girl for me. I just…I love being around you. I love doing stuff with you. I love thinking about you. You made me whole again without even meaning to.

“The way you love both Aeris and your mom…it made me realize I don’t know the first thing about love. The way you work every second of every day to further your career…it made me realize I don’t know the first thing about ambition. You made me want to be a better person. I could list all the other reasons why I love you, but I think you know. And I think I always knew I loved you. I could feel it. I could feel it during every interaction we had together—the good and the bad. I only realized it when I thought I was going to lose you, which, in hindsight, could’ve been a little less traumatic.”

We both laugh, though mine comes out like a broken warble.

Bristol inhales unsteadily, the first sign of nervousness etched into his expression, though he seems to blunt fear’s sharp edge when his eyes gravitate toward mine. “I don’t want to live another second of my life without being tied to you for eternity, Lila.”

I never thought this day would come. I never thought I’d find someone who loved me in spite of all my flaws. I’ve always had this primordial hatred of myself. I’ve always thought I was to blame for everything that went wrong in my life. And I’d grown used to carrying that weight, which further reinforced my unfounded belief that I’d never be good enough for anyone. I was a cadaver for my insecurities, cutting my most hated parts from my body with surgical precision. And those bloody, untreated wounds sparked my unhealthy desire for validation.

Bristol…he never tried to fix me. He loved me as I was, even though I was far from perfect. It made me want to hold on to him for as long as I could, because for the first time in a long time, I forgot what that self-loathing felt like. Bristol’s my person. He’s shown me how to love myself again, and nothing in this world could ever be thanks enough for the life he’s given me.

“How long have you known you were going to propose?” I ask quietly.

“Since Big Bear, but I fell in love with you a long time before that.”

I cover my mouth with my hand when a particularly violent sob rips through me. “You loved me…all this time?”

Bristol smiles, and it’s comfort condensed in a single look that says, I’m right here. I’ve got you.

“How could I not?”

I don’t need another second to consider. Hell, I’ve known my answer the whole time Bristol was giving me his wholehearted—and long—speech. Bristol’s the only person who I’ll ever love, and I’m honored to be the person to give him the happily ever after he deserves.

I literally jump the gun, physically jump off the couch and scare Alfie, and I swing my arms around Bristol, shouting out a full-chested, “Yes!”

He teeters back from the force, a chuckle rumbling in his chest like a faulty motor engine. “Angel, I didn’t even ask you the question yet.”

“I don’t care. It’s a yes. A thousand times yes.” I brand his lips with a slew of kisses, linking my arms tighter around his neck. He sets the box down so he can twirl me around, matching my intensity with his own bruising kiss.

A last kind of kiss.

Our friends rejoice with us, sobbing and yelling and piling on top of each other with breath-squeezing hugs. And in that moment, all the pain dissipates, opening me to a marbled sky of sunlight and pomegranate-bellied clouds. I fly through the air to the soundtrack of laughter, never wanting to let go of this feeling—never wanting to let go of him . But eventually, we come to a standstill, our foreheads pressed together, both gasping for air as the static of electricity arcs between us.

“This doesn’t feel real,” he whispers.

“It will. We just have to get used to it. And we have the rest of our lives to get used to it.”

“Promise?”

“You’re stuck with me, Bristol,” I tell him, cupping the side of his stubbled face. “You’ve spent our entire relationship being the one to catch me if I fall, but now it’s my turn to catch you . I’ve got you. Forever and always.”