Chapter Twenty-One

Truly idled in front of her parents' house, working up the nerve to go inside. Colin had offered to come with her, but this was something she needed to do on her own. The curtains in the front window fluttered as Mom looked out onto the drive and waved. Truly sighed and yanked her keys out of the ignition. Time to face the music.

"Sweetheart." Mom wrapped her up in a hug that took Truly a minute to return. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah," she said, praying Mom couldn't feel her heart thundering against her ribs. "Colin took good care of me. Made me rest and drink lots of fluids and all that. Made me soup, too."

Mom drew back, tucking Truly's hair behind her ear. "Good. Your father and I were so worried when he called."

Truly frowned. "You were with Dad when Colin called you?"

"Diane!" Dad yelled from down the hall. "Is that Truly? Lovely Ladies! The polenta is getting cold!"

"The Natives Are Restless," Mom muttered, turning before Truly could glean anything from her expression. "Hold your horses, Stanley! I'm On My Way!"

Mom stepped over the threshold, but Truly lingered outside the door.

"Truly!" Dad called. "Tick Tock!"

Here went nothing.

She drew up short, feet faltering. Mom and Dad were seated on the couch, side by side, space between them, but not enough that she could squeeze in, leaving her the loveseat.

Dad beamed and swept out a hand, gesturing for her to sit. "List a While, Lady."

He passed Mom a plate from the coffee table and began dishing up another from the veritable breakfast buffet he'd prepared.

She sat stiffly on the loveseat, waving off the plate Dad tried to hand her. "I'm not very hungry. Later, maybe." She took a deep, bracing breath. "Could you please just put me out of my misery and give it to me straight? Are you getting a divorce or not?"

A look passed between them that she couldn't quite parse before they wordlessly set their plates aside.

"Pumpkin," Dad started, and she pressed both hands against her stomach as if that could quell the churning in her gut. "Your mother and I agree that we were too hasty in telling you about our separation. We know what's done can't be undone, but we're both so sorry for putting you in the middle of this, and for even a single second making you feel like our problems were something you could fix."

The words were meant to soothe her, but all they did was put a bitter taste in her mouth and a lump in her throat.

"I know this has been hard on you, but We're Gonna Be All Right."

Uh-huh. Any second now, the other shoe was going to drop. They'd tell her something like, just because they were no longer in love, didn't mean they didn't still care about each other, didn't still love her.

"Our Time apart helped us realize that"—Dad turned and rested his hand on Mom's thigh—"while we have our fair share of issues to work through, we're both dedicated to putting in the work."

A familiar fluttering filled her belly, the kind that could be perilous if left unchecked. Too good to be true. "What?"

"Truly, I shouldn't have been so hard on you." Mom frowned. "I was just... not in a good headspace, and while I still can't say I agree with your methods, I know your heart was in the right place. You made a good point."

"Several of them," Dad said.

"Several of them," she agreed. "Ignoring a problem won't make it go away. Little frustrations built up and somewhere along the way our communication suffered. We forgot to fight for each other."

"Which is why we've scheduled an appointment with a marriage counselor who comes highly recommended."

Truly's breath hitched. "Are you saying you're—you mean you're—you're not getting a divorce?"

"No, Truly." Mom set her hand on top of Dad's, their fingers slotting together with an unthinking sort of ease, like magnets snapping together. "We're not."

Before she could stop it, a shuddering sob burst from between her lips, the first of—shit, several gasping sobs. She ducked her head, hiding her face in her hands as weeks, months, of pent-up fear and anxiety poured out of her, eyes leaking and nose dripping.

"Truly, honey?" She jerked as Mom rested a hand on her shoulder. She hadn't even heard her get up. "Aren't you—aren't you happy?"

She scoffed, or tried to, but all that came out was another weak sob that had her pressing the heels of her hands harder against her leaking eyes.

What a silly question.

This was everything she'd wanted and exactly what she'd been too terrified to let herself hope for these last few weeks. Worried that, like a birthday wish spoken, it might not come true. That if she so much as breathed wrong, this fragile little flame might snuff out.

"Of course I'm happy," she said, once she could open her mouth without blubbering. "I'm..." She grappled for the right words to do her elation justice. "This is The Best Thing That Has Ever Happened."

Sondheim was good for something after all.

Dad passed her a tissue, which she quickly used to blot her tears and blow her nose.

"I really am So Happy."

She couldn't wait to tell Colin.

Mom looked at Dad, all soft eyes and warm smile, and said, "A Love Like Ours is worth fighting for."

"We should celebrate. With champagne or something."

"One step ahead of you, kiddo." Dad ducked out of the room, returning a moment later with a chilled bottle of brut that he popped open right in the doorway, spilling champagne all over the hardwood. "Bang!"

Mom shrieked with laughter. "Stanley! You're making a mess."

Dad smiled, downright roguish. "Didn't complain about that last night, sweetheart."

Truly choked on her spit. "Dad!"

Mom giggled—giggled—and kissed the corner of Dad's mouth. "Turnabout's fair play, Truly."

"Ah, that's right." Dad snapped his fingers. "What was that you told us? Something, something, no shame in intimacy issues?"

"I never asked for details." She snatched the champagne from Dad's hand and brought it to her lips, sipping straight from the bottle, bubbles burning all the way down her throat. She took a good look at the bottle, noting the vintage. "This Is Nice, Isn't It?"

"And not cheap, you menace." Dad bopped her nose and stole the bottle back. "Now, I'd like to make a toast." He drew Mom against his side. "To Diane—with you, Life Is Happiness Indeed." He kissed her temple. "To Happily Ever After."

Truly blinked back happy tears. "To Happily Ever After."