Page 43 of Honeyed

“I’m sorry we shocked you. I’m sorry I didn’t man up and ask for her hand, but I thought you’d say no.” And secretly, we didn’t have that option if we wanted to fulfill Arthur’s will.

“Probably would have. Or at least I would have made you jump through a thousand hoops to get it. Honestly, you impressed me, Warren. I never thought you had the balls. It’s part of why I’m not as upset as I should be that you deprived us all of a wedding. You saw what you wanted, decided on your life path, and went to go get it. It’s exactly what I told you to do during that talk all those many years ago.”

In a way, he’s right. Still, it’s not like I don’t feel guilty taking his apology right now, considering our marriage is fake. Thomas’s acceptance only makes it all that more confusing. And blurs the lines I once clearly saw that I couldn’t cross.

“Thank you, sir.” I nod, acknowledging how significant this moment is.

“I think it’s Dad now, right?” He grins.

The pieces of my heart that have been patched and sewn together over my lifetime begin to mend as if some witch or wizard poured a magic potion over them. Between Alana marrying me, her father taking back his warning, and her family accepting me with open arms as her husband, I’ve officially been instated as a part of this grand tapestry of people.

“I’m going to head inside before my wife scolds me, and I advise you to do the same. The only person more demanding than my wife is her daughter.” That has him booming his signature laugh as he walks inside.

Looking out onto the land I got into too much trouble on with all the Ashton siblings throughout the years, I take a deep breath. Thomas’s blessing feels like a weight off my shoulders, but it’s only replaced with another one. Even with some of the secrets of my past, I haven’t revealed to her, this opens up a new path to really be with Alana.

But will she want this marriage to be real? Will we finally talk about the things we’ve silently sworn never to talk about?

“They can’t tell it’s fake, you know.”

I nearly jump out of my skin as I turn to the voice in the dark.

“Nonna, you scared the living shi—”

I stop myself from cursing in front of Alana’s grandmother, but not before I make out that devilish, knowing grin in the corner of the deck. She’s hidden from view where Thomas and I were talking on the lawn, but I wouldn’t be surprised if her bat ears heard the entire thing.

“Everyone in that house thinks the marriage is real, including that son-in-law of mine. Glad he finally got his head out of his ass.”

Shock steals the breath from my lungs, and I stutter, looking completely guilty. But no way am I admitting anything, even if Nonna can definitely tell I’m lying.”

“That’s because it is real,” I bluff, though in my heart this marriage is more real than anything I’ve ever done in my life.

A snort comes from her. “Of course it is, but you didn’t think that when you married her. Still trying to convince yourself it’s fake, even if you’re lying through your teeth to me. This marriage is more real than most I’ve seen, and you’re an idiot if you aren’t celebrating it in every sense of the word.”

That has me choking on my spit, and I can’t help myself when I say, “Are you telling me I need to sleep with my wife?”

“I’m not saying I want to know what goes on in other people’s homes, but let’s cut the bull, shall we, my boy? You’ve loved my granddaughter since before you knew what the word really meant, and I don’t want to hear that this marriage is a means to an end. She’s blindly in love with you, and you need to take down these walls you’ve built to keep her out. Thomas just gave you his permission, so don’t use that as an excuse anymore. I’m shooting you straight here, my boy, because I love you like you’re one of my own grandchildren; stop wasting time on hurts and notions that are preventing you from being truly happy. Take it from me, you only get so long to love the person you’re meant to be with. You found her long ago and haven’t let yourself have her. Time is up. This marriage is real. Start treating it as such.”

Out of everyone in my life, I can always count on Nonna to come at things with a hard, brute stance. She doesn’t cut corners or pussyfoot around. I appreciate that, but in this case … I’m still terrified. A lot of the pressure I put on myself where Alana is concerned was just wiped away in five minutes, and I feel like I have whiplash.

Before she lets me answer though, Nonna is changing the subject. Perhaps she knows I need to digest this all.

“Let’s go in and have dinner before all of these fools steal my baked beans.” She extends her hand so I can take it and help her up. Once she’s standing, I tuck it into the crook of my elbow and make for the back door.

“I’ll be pissed if these little heart-to-hearts made me miss a steaming heap of them.” A pout turns my mouth down, but I’m only joking.

“Stop wasting time,” she warns me once more as we’re about to enter the dining room, putting a wrinkly palm against my cheek.

Now that I don’t have one half of my excuses, can I really admit to my best friend that I want her as so much more?

18

WARREN

The next ten days pass in a blur, with planning board meetings, the issuing of our temporary license to sell on Newton Street, and more construction decisions than I can handle anymore.

Alana meets every challenge like a trooper, carrying around her planner and all-things-Lily binder like her greatest weapons. She’s taken nearly every meeting with local vendors, creators, and artists, and by now, we’ve been promised enough stock to fill the shop for the summer months.

After that, she wants to change products up by season, so she’ll go out for another round of scouting goods before autumn hits.

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