Page 78 of The Last Thing
“I’m convinced I was born in the wrong time. I was meant to be a teen in the 2000s in the peak pop-punk-emo days.”
“It’s a good thing music never goes out of style. Although I could live without classic rock for a bit. I know it’s sacrilege, but it’s all we ever have on at job sites and I can only take hearing the same Billy Joel, Eagles, Elton John, and The Who songs so many times before my ears start to bleed.”
“Well yeah. If you’re doing those, you need the full albums and the deep cuts. Or a live one. I haveLast Play at Sheaon here somewhere and the version ofPiano Manon there gives me goosebumps every time.”
My gaze slips to her for a second. “Okay, you’ve officially won music picking privileges.”
She throws her hand up. “Yes!”
She settles back in her seat, smiling as she sings along to the words, and my heart stutters. This tiny moment is everything I didn’t know I wanted and never believed I could have.
I pullup in front of a duplex on a quiet street. Or what quiet is for New York City. Still crowded with more cars parked on it than even the busiest streets in downtown Ida.
We stay in our seats for a moment because you don’t just stopWelcome to the Black Paradein the middle of the song. Hallie sings along with the lyrics while I drum on the steering wheel, and that sense of freedom—of being alive—hits me. It’s what she always brings out in me, and I want to feel it more. I want it all the time. Or as often as I can. Maybe I can’t be that guy at work or in certain moments of parenting, but I want to find those pieces of me again.
As the song ends, I turn off the engine and Hallie tucks her phone away.
I climb out of the car and when I get around to her side, she’s sitting there with the door open, staring up at the house.
Offering her my hand, I help her out, but her eyes stay fixed on the large two-story home in front of us.
“This is where you grew up?”
She finally looks at me. “Yep. It’s a nice neighborhood. There’s a park not too far from here, though there is a small backyard, it’s only big enough to sit outside—not enough to play bocce in or anything like that. I’m guessing we’ll eat out there tonight.”
Her hand intertwined with mine, I lead her toward the house. “Did you like growing up here?”
“I loved it. Especially once I hit age ten. That’s when I was allowed to run around with my friends within a three-block radius. We’d get milkshakes at the diner a couple of blocks over or play kickball at the park. The elementary school is four blocks away, so as long as there was a group of us, we were allowed to walk there together without our parents. I had a lot of fun here. Especially as I got older and could explore the city more on my own.”
We climb the front steps, and my stomach tightens. I’m not usually the type to get nervous, but meeting her parents is daunting since I’m technically also her employer and got her pregnant out of wedlock.
“Do you ever miss it?” I ask.
She pauses and looks around. “Not really. I loved it, and it’s always here if I want to come visit, but it’s not my home anymore.”
The door swings open as Hallie reaches for it, so I don’t have time to revel in her words. This place—the house and the city—aren’t her home anymore. Because it’s in Ida. With me. Maybe she won’t admit to the second part yet, but by the very fact that I’m here with her hand wrapped around mine, I know it’s true.
“Hello,” Hallie’s mom says with the same brightness I often hear in Hallie’s voice.
“Hey, Mom. Hi, Dad.” Hallie turns to me. “These are my parents, Cheyenne and Eddie.” She looks at them again. “Mom and Dad, this is Wilson Decker. My baby daddy.”
I’m halfway through extending my hand to her dad when she says that. I freeze in place and groan.
Her parents both laugh, and I reach out again and quickly shake both of their hands.
“You clearly haven’t gotten to know Hallie well enough if you weren’t expecting that,” her dad says. And I know it’s a little push. A question. How well do I know his daughter? How serious is this? The thing is, that’s exactly what I should’ve been expecting, but after sharing vulnerable moments with Hallie, sometimes the playful side of her catches me off guard.
I wrap my arm around her and tug her close. “I should’ve been.” Lowering my voice, I catch Hallie’s eyes. “You’ve been a hellion since the moment we met.”
She gives me her sweetest smile. “It’s so much fun. How could I not? Plus, I kind of love that grumpy look you get.”
We follow her parents inside, and I’m surprised when she wraps her arm around my back in return.
How much of this is real to her?
How honest was she with her parents when she said we were together?
At some point, we have to talk about all that. Probably before we tell Sophia about the baby.
