Page 40 of Honeyed

It sounds like my personal heaven and hell.

“Hmm.” Is all the answer I give her because I don’t know if I should agree to something like that.

We lapse into silence, observing the space, when I decide to change the subject.

“I think we should call it ‘Lily.’” I share the name I’ve been thinking about since I rented this place for her. For us.

“Hmm?” Alana is busy with the countertop samples she just stood to go look at.

Hollis dropped them off yesterday while I was here on the phone with the town zoning board president. Our high school buddy turned renowned local contractor is doing a rush job for us as valued customers, and he’ll be here installing the built-ins and checkout counter sometime in the next two weeks.

Our luck is also cashing in with the zoning board and town committee, who are calling a special meeting this week to get all our permits approved. I still need to find an electrician and a plumber to make sure all the parts in the one small bathroom work. Alana has been hard at work contacting local vendors, sellers, artists, and goods makers to stock the store. Of course, she’s already practically gotten them all on board; there aren’t many people in this town who don’t respect the Ashton name or owe one of them a favor. And promise them prime real estate on our shelves when they know Alana could market the shit out of this place? Selling their stuff here is a no-brainer.

“We should call this store ‘Lily.’ It’s a pretty name, simple and short. Good for marketing and gives an obvious symbol or graphic to play around with. We could get a cool sign made for out front. But mostly, it ties back to your Italian roots. Lily is the national flower of Italy, and since you want a little recognition with who owns this place in regard to Hope Pizza, it’s a subtle tieback.”

Alana blinks at me. “That is absolutely genius. You … you’ve really thought about this. Given it a lot of consideration.”

“I want this place to be everything you’ve dreamed it could be. It’s ours, of course, I want to give it a lot of thought.”

She studies me. “You really mean that.”

It isn’t a question.

“I took what you said to heart, about us really doing this together. It’s not just me gifting you something in lieu of the marriage; this is our business, a venture we both needed to grow as people and as friends.”

With those counter samples in her hands, she stays very still until a small smile breaks out on her lips.

“Lily it is, then.”

I bow my head, secretly loving that she adores the name I proposed. And loving that she thought to come here, that she knew I needed an outlet to get out of the dark clouds my past left looming over my head.

She knew that because she knows me.

This is my best friend. We can do this. We can make it through this. We’ve shared too much of our lives to throw it away. We’ll find a way to mend whatever we break while being married, we can find common ground again. Or maybe I’m just being stupidly optimistic.

Today, though, had given me the same warm feelings I always got when I spent days with Alana. The hours were easy, and the conversation relaxed. There’s no judgment or choosing which version of myself to be with her. In Alana, I’ve found my person. My place to be completely myself.

Nothing is going to ruin that. She might not know about the five-year term of Arthur’s will or the dirty past of my parents I’ve never shared with her, but she knows me. Deep down, she’s the only one who understands me.

We’ll make this work. Even if I have to break my own heart over and over again.

17

WARREN

“Walking into the house for the first time as an actual family member. A husband, no less. Is this fucking weird or what?”

Evan starts with the taunting bullshit the minute I step inside Thomas and Leona’s foyer, and I know it won’t stop until I get in my car at the end of the night.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Alana rolls her eyes at him as she makes off for the kitchen with the pie we picked up on the way.

“Hi to you too, asshole.” I ruffle his hair harder than I normally would, and he swerves to get out of my grasp.

“I can’t believe you’re here as a son-in-law for the first time.” Leona bustles out of the kitchen, tears in her eyes, and envelops me in a hug.

Even if some members of the family, or really only one, don’t want me to be with Alana, it seems that her mother has completely gotten over the whole surprise elopement thing. Last week, she brought me her grandfather’s cufflinks into the restaurant during a shift. They’re the ones he wore on his wedding day, and since Patrick wore his father’s for his ceremony, she thought I ought to have a family heirloom of my own.

I choked back tears as she explained it to me. This family has already given me so much, and here my new mother-in-law is putting her feelings aside to welcome me with open arms.

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