Page 111 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis
I looked at Christian, who was staring back at me with the same expression I probably had on my face, wonder and disbelief.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Uncle Charles said, raising his beer. “To Naomi and Christian, who apparently think so much alike they even pick the same charities.”
Everyone raised their drinks, laughing and shaking their heads at the impossibility of it all.
Later, as we were cleaning up, I found myself standing next to Patrice while she scraped plates.
“You know,” she said, “he’s nothing like your ex.”
“Nobody’s anything like my ex.”
“Your ex used to show up to these things and spend the whole time on his phone or complaining. Christian’s been here four hours, and he’s helped serve food, fixed two broken toys, and won at every game we threw at him without making anyone feel bad about losing.”
“He’s competitive but not mean about it.”
“And the way he looks at you...” Patrice shook her head. “Your ex never looked at you like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like he can’t believe he gets to be here with you.”
I glanced across the yard where Christian was helping my father check the air pressure in his wheelchair tires. They were discussing something serious, my father with his arms crossed, while Christian listened intently.
“Maybe he’s someone you can trust,” Patrice continued. “You should think about keeping him around.”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“Good. Because if you let him go, I’m going to adopt him myself. We need someone who can actually win at UNO in this family.”
I laughed, but as I watched Christian push my father’s wheelchair closer to the shade, I realized Patrice was right. Christian didn’t just fit into my world; he improved it.
And somehow, without either of us planning it, we’d been working toward the same goal for months. Training for the same event, supporting the exact cause, caring about the same things.
For the first time since all this started, I let myself imagine what permanence might look like. Sunday dinners with both our families. Christian was fixing things around my parents’ house while I helped my mother in the kitchen. Holidays, birthdays, and all the ordinary moments that made up a real life together.
It scared me how much I wanted it.
But for the first time, it didn’t scare me enough to run.
When we left, my entire family walked us to the car like we were visiting royalty.
“You bring him back soon,” my mother ordered, hugging Christian goodbye.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And next time, bring more of that pie.”
“I’ll make two.”
Christian’s hand squeezed mine across the center console, and I squeezed his fingers.
“Your family’s wonderful,” he said.
“They liked you. That’s not easy to do.”
“What do you think Uncle Charles feels about me?”
“He doesn’t approve of anyone, but he dragged you around all evening. So what does that tell you?”
