Page 34 of Anchored

“Yes, fourteen, we met and ended up kissing at a bonfire one night.” Maple puts her hands out. “It was totally innocent!”

“Well…” I drawl, then laugh when Maple looks at me with panic in her eyes. “It was innocent. My glasses even fell off. Remember that pair, Mom? The ones I hated? You told me I had to wear them the full two years, but they were too loose on my face.”

Mom turns a sharp eye toward me, which makes me stop talking. “Holt. Focus.”

“Glasses. Anchor,” Jess adds in, nudging Holt in the shoulder. “And give me my baby back before she tries sucking on your nipple, looking for her dinner.”

“Jesus, Jess,” Dad sighs.

“Anchor?” Maple asks, thoroughly confused.

I slide down onto the couch with her and explain. “With ADHD, it helps to have anchoring words when you get lost in a conversation. I tend to go in a thousand directions, so I choose a word to anchor that train of thought, finish what I was saying, and then go back to the idea that distracted me. It’s just a technique I learned over the years.”

“I love that,” Maple says softly.

“So you were saying?” Mom prompts impatiently, always the hard-ass.

Maple winks at me, like we’re in this horrible situation with my parents together. Despite being a grown man and still having my mother snap at me for not staying focused, I’m happy here right next to Maple. Like there’s someone on my side for once.

“The following summer, Holt was dating Macy. And the summer after that, my father put me into science camps. I didn’t see Holt again until recently.”

I jump in. “I saw her in Charlotte at a conference a few months back. We started talking, the spark was still there, and here we are.”

We hadn’t talked about that bit, but figured we needed a little bit of time to get to know each other or Mom would never believe our quick engagement. I put my other hand on Maple’s knee and gaze into her eyes adoringly.

“And have you set a wedding date?” Mom asks, but I barely register her question. I’m too busy staring into Maple’s eyes and getting lost in their ocean-blue depths.

“Holt! Focus!” Mom snaps.

I blink, happy, contented bubble burst. Maple’s neck swivels like she’s in a horror film. I half expect smoke to come out of her ears.

“He is focused, Mrs. McGrath. Have you not seen the business he’s built for himself? Someone can only do that if they have immense focus and talent.”

You can hear a pin drop, if there were any pins in danger of dropping. I shouldn’t like seeing my mother put in her place, but I do. I really fucking do. She’s the one who never accepted my diagnosis and made me feel like there was something wrong with me. That my lack of focus was something I could choose not to have if I only wanted it badly enough. How many times had I gotten in trouble in school and then again once I got home, even though my grades were always amazing?

Mom finally harrumphs. Dad asks Maple if she golfs. Jess puts a blanket over her shoulders and feeds Posy. I stand up and get the grill going, rubbing my chest. I realize that never once did Macy defend me like that to my own family. In fact, she and my mom would laugh together about my distracted mind. As soon as the chicken and tofu is on, I go back to help Maple out of what has to be a painful discussion about golf handicaps and we get the food ready together.

“Thank you,” I whisper into her neck as I hold her close to me in the corner of the kitchen where my family can’t see us.

She slides her hands up my shoulders and kisses my neck. “She shouldn’t talk to you like that.”

“I know. I appreciate you standing up for me.”

She tips her head back and smiles. “Always.”

Just like that.

Everyone’s on their best behavior over dinner, and somehow, we all have a good time. Stephen shows up in time for Jess to blow out the candles on her cake and he makes a toast about his wife that makes everyone tear up. I know it’s been hard with a baby and a new business, but I’m rooting for those two to make it over the long haul.

As Jess and Stephen leave with Posy, my sister pulls me into a hug and whispers, “I love her! You better marry her quick, brother.” She grabs the leftover cake out of my hands and Stephen follows her out to their car with the baby carrier.

Dad gives Maple a hug. Somehow, Maple has agreed to go to the driving range with him one day this summer and actually seems happy about it. Mom puts her hands on my shoulders and studies me.

“I like her for you, Holt. You seem happy.”

“I am, Mom,” I answer truthfully. Having Maple here this summer has become an unexpected delight.

Mom smiles, a rare sight. “Then let’s start planning this wedding. Set a date!”

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