Page 201 of Sinful Like Us
I look up with a bright smile. “Yes. I’ve realized I don’t need one.” I explain my epiphany that I had in Scotland, and they all seem happy until I add, “Once the holidays are over, I’m going to ask Dad to work at Cobalt Inc. in the finance department. I’ll enjoy it there for a while, then I’ll bounce around to another place to help the family.”
Daisy chugs her wine.
“You don’t need a passion,” my mom agrees. “You never have, but Jane…” Her yellow-greens drill into me like I’m missing a glaring sign smack-dab in front of my nose.
“I don’t…understand.” I frown.
“Tu as déjà trouvé ta passion. Regarde.”You’ve already found your passion. Look.
I follow her eyes to the binder on my lap.
My pulse is on an immediate ascent. “No, no…this is just a project for Maximoff and Farrow. It’s not…” I stop myself because my aunts and my mom wear these loving smiles.
My mom deserts her wine glass on the crate. “You just spent thirty minutes telling us everything from food options to table arrangements. And I wish we had a mirror, Jane, because if you saw yourself, you wouldn’t be questioning anything.”
Everything slows around me.
The air whistles and my skin chills. Is it possible for a love of something so deep to creep up on you without even knowing? Without even searching?
How long have I explored far and wide for a passion that I could turn into a career? And here it found me…triggering a yearning that I haven’t felt before.
My heart opens completely. To possibility. A future. Where I smooth chaos and solve puzzles and juggle madness all at once. And seeing,feelingthe spellbinding happiness of loving partners on their special day.
The image…it fills me.
“I could plan other weddings besides Maximoff and Farrow’s,” I say, hopeful, letting that reality into the air.
My mom looks at me like I’m her daughter. Flesh and blood come to life. “You can do anything, gremlin.”
Anything.
I choose this.
“Thank you,” I breathe.
I’m not sure I would have been able to see what was in front of me without them. I touch my watering eyes. Lily is sniffling, already crying. Daisy passes her a tissue.
My mom wafts a hand at her face, drying her eyes before they well up. “I hate youall.I’m wearing fresh mascara.”
We laugh.
“Speaking of Scotland.” Daisy tosses a chocolate chip in her mouth. “Tell us everything that happened with you and the spritely hunk.”
Spritely hunk.
I love my family dearly.
How do I describe Thatcher? I’ve tried to before, but this is different. We’ve spent over thirty days stuck in a house together. We spent a night trapped in a car. I’ve broken up with him, made up with him, and he’s still embraced me fully, without compromise.
I love him.
I smile into a soft breath. That much has been clear.But…“I shouldn’t need him so much, and I find myself aching to be swallowed whole too often to be healthy.” Setting the beer aside, I hug the binder to my chest and bend my knees. “I’m scared to love him, but God, I do. Soinfinitelyand terribly.”
It’s a truth I’ve never shared with them. One I’ve become much better at expressing aloud.
My mom leans forward and takes my hand in hers. Our eyes close, noses near, and I hang onto every word as she says, “You’re not two halves, Jane. You don’tlosewhen you love. You gain.” She draws closer to whisper, “You have all of him.”
And he has all of me.
