23. W I L K S

TWENTY-THREE

W I L K S

Chelsie’s leg hasn’t stopped bouncing up and down for the past thirty minutes. I’m inclined to say something. Ask why she’s just so nervous—fidgety. I know the last time she went to her parents, things didn’t work out the way she wanted them to, given that her dickhead ex-boyfriend decided to show up, but what I said to her was true. If he even thinks about so much as knocking on the door tonight, he’s got another thing coming…

We’ve all had our fair share of exes who we want to avoid at any and all costs, but when it comes to Simon and Chelsie, I can’t help but assume that things go much deeper than that.

Chelsie’s been so reluctant to speak about him with me, and frankly, I’ve never wanted to prompt her enough for an answer.

The two of us had a turbulent start, I’ll be the first to admit it, but now things have been undeniably blissful. Because of that, I refuse to rock the boat. Just like I can’t when it comes to grilling her on her mum and dad. Instead, I gently place my hand on the top of her knee, and as I rub in a soothing motion, it’s enough to force her bouncing to come to a stop and her eyes to glance up at me.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs under her breath. “Force of habit.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” I peer away from the motorway to look into her eyes—her worried eyes. “I’m just wondering if you’re alright, that’s all, love.”

“Yeah.” Chelsie re-adjusts in her seat. “I’m okay.” She looks out of the window. “I promise.”

Promise is a big word, but if I’ve come to learn anything about Chelsie Windsor, it’s that she doesn’t use it lightly. She’s made several promises to me over the course of our relationship— situationship , so far that she’s never once broken:

I promise I’ll come to your next game.

She was the first one in the stands.

I promise I’ll bake you any dessert you want.

She made me one of everything.

I promise I’ll trust you whenever you ask me to.

She always has.

A Chelsie promise is one that I know better than to debate with. Therefore, despite my internal reluctance, I accept her truth as fact and continue to drive.

“But are you sure you’re okay with this?” Chelsie speaks up after a stint of silence, briskly turning over her shoulder as her hair sways against the seat. “I mean, we can go back home if you want? We’re not too far, we can always turn around?—”

“Do you want to go back home?” I respond with, knowing that her generous offer is merely just an underlying attempt for her to back out of the fact that she did, after all, take me up on my offer. Now, here we are, driving four hours up north to see her parents.

“I don’t know.” She wipes her clammy touch on top of her bare leg. “I just…” She’s beyond frazzled. “I just hope you didn’t feel pressured to come, you know? Like you had no other choice.”

“Baby girl,” I rebut the thought, lowering the radio. “I offered, did I not? I said I would come.”

“Yes, you did.” She looks down. “I just… hope that you didn’t feel obligated to, that’s all.”

“I feel the complete opposite,” I desperately attempt to reassure her. “Like I told you, Chels.” I reach for her hand, grasping it into mine. “I want to be there for you. I will be there for you.”

She faintly smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear as she squeezes my palm. “I just hope that this isn’t too much. I mean, it’s a lot of driving, Gary.”

I lean back into my seat, making myself comfortable. “Well, it’s a good thing we’re staying the night then, isn’t it?”

We are staying the night—no ifs, ands, or buts about it. I refuse to make an eight-hour journey in one day. Hell, driving fifteen minutes up the street feels like a trek to me—but Chelsie doesn’t need to know that. I’d drive up and down this country twice over for just a single smile from her lips, and I’d do it over and over, happily.

Though, when it comes to tonight’s sleeping arrangements, I can’t help but question where I’ll end up, but for now I need to suppress those thoughts. After all, I’ve still got a long drive ahead of me…

“Thank you,” Chelsie’s voice is as soft as her lips as she plants a tender kiss on my cheek. I stare over at her as she mouths. “I mean it.”

I smile, mouthing back. “I know you do.”

CHELSIE

“Mum… Dad.” I’m so beside myself with nerves as I gesture to my right. “This is Gary Wilkinson. Gary, this is my mum, Sarah, and my dad, Mark.”

This introduction feels awfully reminiscent of meeting Gary’s parents last week.

The major difference?

I’m absolutely shaking inside and out while Gary stands tall and proud with both of our duffle bags in either of his hands.

“It’s nice to meet you both.” Gary’s as polite as can be despite my parent’s blatant and judgmental stares.

I’ve only ever introduced one boy to my parents before, and that one was a big mistake. But now it’s like the bar has been set. They’ve become attached to said boy, and with every blink of their eye, it's as if they’re wishing this was Simon, not Gary.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.” Dad breaks the awkward silence as he shakes Gary’s hand with some umph. “Come on in, son.”

Gary nods, stepping inside as he embraces my mum in for a hug before planting a kiss on her cheek.

“I’ve got supper made.” My mum points back towards the kitchen, rubbing her hands along her apron thereafter. “It’s uh—actually been ready for a while now.” She looks to the floor. “Given that you did say that you’d be here at half past…”

“ Mum .” I shoot her a look, grinding my teeth.

“That’s my fault.” Gary takes the blame. “I was low on petrol and had to fill up. Sorry about that.” He places a careful hand on my upper back—an action my parent's eyes are immediately drawn towards. “But hey, food is always better when it’s reheated, am I right?”

I can’t help but nervously smile at Gary’s innate ability to always look on the bright side of things, prompting my mum to purse her lips with a faint nod.

“I suppose.”

There’s a quiet as we all linger by the front door, waiting for what to do next before Dad gestures for us all to convene in the dining room. “Let’s eat this reheated food. Shall we?”

Gary gulps before he nods, following in closely behind my mum and dad as we make our way into the dining room. As we do, Gary’s eyes gravitate towards the ceiling as he becomes dazed by the chandelier.

“Do you like it?” Dad asks, pulling up a chair at the head of the table and taking a seat.

“It’s insane.” Gary reaches up to touch it but I pull his hand back as if he’s about to dip it into hot lava. That chandelier is my dad’s prized possession. He inherited it from his great grandfather and let’s just say, no one gets to touch it but him… no one .

“ Sorry ,” Gary teasingly mouths as he raises his hand in defense before pulling out my chair and tucking me in.

“Your home is stunning, Mr. Windsor,” Gary opts to call him. “Truly, it’s magnificent. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Well, thank you, Gary,” Dad’s receptive to the compliment as he looks around, a sense of pride in his eyes. “Sarah and I have spent a lot of time making it our own over the years. We only wanted the best for our girls, you know. The Hull version of Windsor Castle, isn’t that right, Chelsie?” He winks.

“Yes, Dad.” I nod in agreement while routinely placing my handkerchief across my lap, guiding Gary to do the same.

“Speaking of providing, what exactly do you do, Gary?” Dad’s so forward with his question that I can’t help but flash him a look to say, “Really?”

We literally only just sat down.

“I uh—play football, sir.” Gary meticulously adjusts the neck of his dress shirt—the one I told him that he didn’t need to wear, but he’d insisted on anyway.

I’ll admit it looks great, but since he put it on, he hasn’t stopped fussing with it. I think Gary’s only comfortable in one article of clothing: his football uniform.

“Not your hobby, son.” Dad rests his forearms against the table. “I mean your job. What do you do for work?”

“Football is my job, sir, not a hobby,” Gary’s direct as he speaks. “I play professionally.”

“Professionally? Is that right?” Mum cuts Gary’s spiel short as she walks into the room, serving us each a plate before she securely plants herself beside my dad and directly across from Gary. “Simon used to play football,” she naturally slips him into conversation. “Didn’t he, Mark?”

I’m forced to bite down on the inside of my cheek to suppress the anger that I can feel pulsating inside of me. I thought this dinner was for them to make peace with me for the last time they involved Simon? Not reignite the flame.

As if he has a direct line inside of my mind, Gary places his hand on my inner thigh, soothingly rubbing along my bare skin to remind me that I’m okay… that he’s here.

“Yeah, but not professional.” Dad comes to his senses and brushes aside my mum’s remark. “Gary here plays in the EPL. Don’t you, lad?”

There’s a stint of awkward silence before Gary clears his throat and straightens his spine. “Not quite the EPL yet, Mr. Windsor,” he clarifies. “But, I’m working my way up to it. That’s the goal. Hopefully soon.”

“Oh?” Dad cocks a thoughtful brow. “Well, what team do you play for then?”

“Crawfield Football Club,” I answer proudly on his behalf. “You know, the team where Ruby lives?” I boast. “Gary also just so happens to be their captain, might I add.”

“The captain?” Mum purses her lips before sipping her wine, a look of what I can’t decipher as impression or opposition in her eyes.

“Does that make you any money?” Dad is back at it with the blatant questions.

“Dad!” This time, I’m quick to counter before I apologetically turn to face Gary. “I’m so sorry, you seriously don’t have to answer that?—”

“I’ve made enough over time to not only pay off my parent's mortgage but get one of my own, sir. I’ve begun a college tuition fund for each of my siblings so that they won’t have to pay for school when the time comes, and to top it all off, I’m completely financially independent.” Gary cuts in. “So, yes, to answer your question, Mr. Windsor, I make money. There’s no question about that.”

I’m left stunned. Speechless. And don’t get me started on the look of embarrassment on each of my parents' faces. All the while, Gary decides that now is the perfect time to nonchalantly take the first few bites of his meal.

“This is delicious,” he brings the once silence to a stop. “Mmm, what is it, lamb?” he asks, visibly unphased by just how struck he’s left everyone.

“Yes...” Mum nervously clutches a hold of her wine glass as Gary licks his lips.

“It’s so good. Have you tried it yet, Chels?” He looks over at me.

I nod, taking a bite for myself so that I don’t have to say anything, leaving this awkward silence to be resolved by my parents.

“Well, Gary .” Mum smiles over at him. “It sounds like you’ve got it all together. Chelsie .” Her attention falls my way. “You’re a lucky girl, aren’t you? So, tell us, how long have you and Chelsie been dating?”

Gary dabs the corners of his mouth with the handkerchief, yet it doesn’t disguise the way his face turns slightly red. “Well, we haven’t put a label on it yet, but?—”

“About a month now,” my voice goes up an octave as I quickly cut him off. “Yeah, Gary and I met when I was visiting Ruby out in Crawley. Isn’t that right, Gary?” I look his way but leave him no time to chime in as I uncontrollably ramble on. “Needless to say, one thing led to another and look at us now. Together .”

Suspicious, Dad narrows in his stare. “So you are dating then?” he pries.

“Not officially, but?—”

“Yes. Yes, we are,” I stop Gary yet again. “Gary’s my boyfriend. I’m his girlfriend. That’s how relationships work, right? Now, can we eat, please ?”

Mum and Dad are hardly satisfied. I don’t seem to care until Gary’s hand tenses around my thigh, prompting me to gaze into his lost eyes.

He’s confused. I don’t blame him. I knew this would come back to bite me in the ass. I should’ve been honest from the start with him about what I told my parents. We could’ve avoided this whole song and dance…

“Well, if you two are together, then I suppose that means you’ll be coming to our vow renewal as her date, won’t you, Gary?” Mum demands his attention.

“I, uh…”

“He’ll be there,” I can’t stop myself from answering for him.

He turns to face me, even more confused than before. “I will?”

“Yes, you will. We talked about this . Remember ?” I flash him a look—one that I hope doesn’t make it abundantly obvious to my parents that we didn’t, in fact, talk about this.

Discerning my gaze, Gary swallows before locking eyes with my parents. “I’ll uh… try my best to be there, Mr. and Mrs. Windsor.” He clears his throat. “But the truth is, the season has been busy lately, and it’s hard for me to find full days off.”

Unimpressed by his answer, Dad leans back into his chair. “You know, Gary, Simon always prioritized family,” he mutters before reaching toward his champagne. “Always.”

“ Mark ,” Mum hisses before I can. “That’s enough.”

“What?” Dad raises his hands in defense, placing the flute back down on the table. “I’m just telling the truth, Sarah. I mean, not long ago, it was Simon sitting here, was it not? And now it’s… him .” He points Gary’s way.

The room falls silent with tension, but it doesn't last long as my dad’s rant carries on.

“Listen, I’m not trying to be funny with you, lad, but you’ve got to understand, Simon was a part of our family for a long time, and now all of a sudden it’s?—”

“Can I be excused?” I stand up from the table, pushing my chair back as I do. “I… I need some fresh air.”

All eyes fall onto me, yet it’s Gary’s gaze I have the hardest time focusing on as my eyes combat the tears aching to break free.

“ Chelsie .” Hearing him say my name is enough to make the first one to fall down my cheek as I back away from the table.

“I—I’ll be back…” I charge my way out of the house, slamming the door shut behind me as I race into the garden.

The garden.

A once happy place full of childhood memories and laughter, but now it is nothing more than a reminder.

A reminder of that night.

A reminder of him…

I promised myself I’d stop doing this. That I’d stop running away from my problems and confront them head-on. But if that was my promise, then why am I out here? Why have I left Gary to fend for himself?

Christ.

I run my hands through my messy hair, tugging at my roots as my mind urges me to go back. Apologize, and most of all, tell the Goddamn truth. But I can’t. My legs continue to guide me down the garden. The house is so far away that it has become a faded image in the distance.

I just need a few minutes.

I just need some fresh air.

A moment so that I can breathe, settle my thoughts and then I’ll go back inside.

That’s all I need.

To be alone.

“ Chelsie .”