Page 67 of Afterglow

“Thank you,” I choke out, looking first at Delia and then at Alex. Their eyes are full of tears, and I’m not sure how I’m supposed to hold it together when they’re looking at me like this.

“Goodness, y’all are the biggest bunch of babies,” exclaims Becca. “The only person who gets to cry whenever she wants is Leanne, and I don’t see her crying… Ah, come on!”

She’s caught sight of Leanne, who has tears streaming down her face as she watches the interaction between me and my family unfold. She may not understand exactly what all this means to us—not yet—but she knows enough to recognize, like I do, how much it means for them to be embracing us through this.

Leanne laughs through her tears and strikes them away from her cheeks. With a deep breath, she stands from the table. “I’m going to use the restroom.” She points down the hall. “Is it this way?”

Becca jumps up and takes her arm. “I’ll show you.”

This leaves me alone with Delia and Alex, who are already clearing the table.

Once I’ve set down my own armful of dishes, Delia pulls me into a tight hug. “I really like her.”

I lean my cheek against her hair and breathe in the woman I’ve known as my mother for over half my life. She always smells like herbs and freshly baked bread. She smells like home. “I’m glad. She’s really something.”

“That she is,” Alex agrees, clapping me on the back. “I think she’ll keep you on your toes, and then the baby will arrive, and you’ll never have another day’s peace.” He laughs, a deep booming one that draws one out of me as well.

“That I am sure of.”

“Did you ask her?” Delia whispers, pulling out rubber gloves from under the sink and looking toward the door.

“About moving in?” I ask, carrying more dishes over. “Yeah. She said she’d think about it. Best I could expect probably.”

She squeezes my forearm before turning her attention to the sink.

“Not that you need my opinion,” Alex interjects, about to share whatever’s on his mind whether I want to hear it or not. “But I think this friends business is codswallup. I’m not blind. I can see the way you look at her… the way she looks at you.”

I want to roll my eyes like I did as a teenager, but I refrain. “A lack of chemistry is definitely not our problem. It’s that our pasts make this more complicated than a girl meets boy, boy gets girl pregnant, boy and girl live happily ever after situation.”

“I never said it wasn’t complicated,” he retorts. “I—”

“We’re back.” Becca’s voice carries her and Leanne back into the room arm in arm, like they’re the best of friends. Hope blooms in my heart that maybe that can be true someday.

“Who wants dessert?” Delia asks, forgoing the rest of the dishes and reaching for a large chocolate cake on a crystal stand I hadn’t noticed before.

“Oh wow, that looks delicious. Did you make it?” Leanne asks.

“From scratch. It’s Bryce’s favorite. I hope you like chocolate.”

“What pregnant woman doesn’t like chocolate?” Leanne asks with a grin.

“You’d be surprised,” Becca says. “I think I’d cry though if I was one of them.”

The next hour flies by, and as Leanne stops to drop me off outside my house, her trunk full of presents and a slice of cake wrapped in cellophane for later, I find I don’t want the night to end.

“That went much better than I thought it would,” she says, turning in her seat to look at me. After a big dinner and a second helping of cake, her baby bump is more obvious than ever. The desire to reach across and lay my hand there is nearly impossible to resist.

Instead, I tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I told you it was going to be fine.”

“You did, but I didn’t believe you,” she deadpans.

“Thanks for the confidence,” I snark back at her, loving the way her face leans into my palm.

“I really like them.” She rests her hands over her stomach, and we both watch them move slowly back and forth. “I hope they liked me.” The admission quietly indicates that tonight was important to her, just like it was for me. I forget sometimes that the confident, takes-no-shit-from-anybody woman I know Leanne to be has a side that’s been hurt before, abandoned and rejected.

“They did. They told me as much. You’re stuck with us now, I’m afraid.”

“Not such a hardship,” she says with a small smile.