30 | Evermore

"IT FEELS A LITTLE BIT LIKE THE CALM BEFORE A STORM, DOESN'T IT?"

Jen was lounging across from him on the old quilt they were using as a picnic blanket, her hair hanging loose around her and legs bared to the warmth of late spring under a pair of high-waisted jean shorts. She'd opted not to wear any makeup this morning, a decision which she seemed mostly ambivalent about, but he secretly enjoyed seeing her as she naturally was. He noticed each of the faint freckles across her cheeks, the slope of her nose. How quickly her cheeks went rosy in the sun. She was his own Aphrodite bathed in light.

"That implies that there's definitely going to be a storm," he pointed out, leaning forward, towards her, slightly.

She smiled a little bit, showing that cute dimple near the corner of her mouth. "I sure hope not, but I don't consider myself to be a great hostess, so we'll see."

There was no work tomorrow as it was Memorial Day, so Jen had decided somewhat at the last minute to hold a little soiree for friends and family at her place tonight. He was finally going to meet her parents. He was nervous, but also relieved for a multitude of reasons – that he and her made it this far, that she and her parents were all getting along with each other well enough that they wanted to spend this time together.

Robert reached into their wicker basket to retrieve one of the chocolate-covered strawberries they brought with them. "I say we don't let ourselves worry about it. You're already much more prepared for me to meet them than I was for you to meet my sister, and we still came out of that with all our limbs attached."

He took a purposefully big bite out of the strawberry, the juice dribbling onto his chin. This made her smile, and she grabbed a napkin to wipe it off of him. As she reached forward and gently did so – as gently as if she were handling a child – she gave the slightest of nods as if trying to convince herself that he was right.

He knew Jen, so he knew that she was worried that she was somehow going to mess up even though it was he who needed to make a good impression. She'd already done everything right by telling them in advance that she had a boyfriend and that he'd be there with her tonight. She would do brilliantly, he was certain.

After she set down the napkin, he took her hand in his own before she could pull it back. "My Jen, you don't need to worry about a thing. Leave the rest to me."

"It just feels odd," she admitted with that faraway look in her eyes that she sometimes got. "All of it. All the change. You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but..."

This upcoming Friday was the last day of the school year and therefore her last day being employed at St. Catherine's. She had secured another job that was much more aligned with her career goals and was starting in two weeks, and he was so proud of her, but he could tell there was that piece of her that was going to miss being at the school. He himself suspected that there might be a little emptiness in his chest when he went back to teaching in the fall and she wasn't there at the front desk for him to slip notes to.

"But...I suppose it would be a shame not to enjoy that bubbly we brought," Jen mused with a delicate tilt of her lips, drawing herself back from that stormy place her mind sometimes visited. "You wanna do the honors?"

So he did, pulling their mini bottle of champagne out of the basket and opening it in the most careful manner he was capable of so as to avoid a scenario in which all of its contents spewed everywhere. Bubbles rose as he poured it into their very fancy plastic cups, then held one out to her.

"Cheers," she smiled, lifting hers up. "To us."

"To us."

He tried a sip of his, savoring the flavor he only drank on very special occasions. "Is this a bad time to say that I got you something for the party?"

"Got me something? Like a present? Please don't tell me you got a present."

"Would it be so wrong if I did?" he asked, testing fate by setting his cup on the grass and hoping that the tiniest gust of wind wouldn't blow it over. "You've earned it."

Her cheeks went even pinker as she cast her eyes down toward the ground. "I don't know how to properly handle people spoiling me."

"You don't have to do anything," he assured her. "Just turn around for me and close your eyes."

Jen eyed him warily for a second, probably weighing whether this was a prank, before she succumbed and shifted positions so that her back was to him. He reached into his pocket for the necklace he got for her, the metal surprisingly cool against his skin for something that had been sitting in his pocket on a warm day. With his other hand, he gingerly brushed all of her dark hair over one shoulder and then worked on fiddling with the clasp, which took him an embarrassingly long moment to get open. But once he did, he placed the golden chain around her neck and smiled as the gem suspended from its center – amethyst, her birthstone – settled beneath her collarbones.

Robert drew his hands back. "You can open your eyes."

Her fingers were running along the stone as she turned back around to him. "Oh, it's gorgeous. You didn't have to– do you know anything about jewelry?"

He laughed. "No. Is it alright? You don't have to lie to me if you don't like it."

"No, no, it's stunning," she promised. "You have good taste—that's all I meant."

"I thought you could wear it tonight," he confessed quietly, though he was now feeling rather shy about the fact that he'd imagined her in it. "If you want to, that is."

But Jen was smiling, a smug little smile that told him she was up to no good. She scooted closer to him, close enough that he could smell the light perfume that clung to her. The scent was a little dizzying in the best kind of way – a way that involved him wanting to take her by the waist and kiss her skin to get more of it. "Tell me, Robert, do I look pretty in it?"

Pretty doesn't even begin to cover it, he thought. "You're not pretty Jen," he said simply. "You are unbelievably beautiful."

She toppled forward to kiss him, pressing her mouth against his in a wholly unabashed way that sent his blood roaring through his veins.

"I love it," she murmured against his lips in between kisses. "Thank you."

But his heart jumped in his chest—he'd thought she was going to say something else.

A knock sounded against the door as Jen snatched a hot bag of popcorn out of the microwave and was pouring it into a bowl. Her eyes flew to the clock—it was already time for the party? Even though Robert had been helping her set up, she didn't feel ready yet.

She flocked to the door and as luck would have it, Jude was the one standing there when she flung it open. Her flustered feeling somewhat fizzled away as she said, "Oh, good—can you help us pick out some music?"

Without further ado, she herded him over to the corner by her bookshelf, where she'd set up the old record player that was once her grandmother's. Jude immediately began flipping through the stack of records. "Didn't you say once that your parents like Sinatra?"

"Yes – good point," Jen perked up, grabbing the Greatest Hits vinyl and shuffling it out of its sleeve and ignoring how he had been trying not to smirk this whole time. She knew he still found it funny that she and Robert were together even though it had been a few weeks now since she told him.

Another knock sent her back to the front door, this time to greet Celie and her boyfriend—she and that guy who had asked her out at her work were now officially a thing. Jude had met him already, but Jen had not, and she found herself looking at a man with a wave of blonde hair and blue eyes. She personally wasn't all that into blondes, but he was undoubtedly charming and gave her a friendly smile.

And Celie's smile was bright, so Jen knew this boy must make her happy. "Jen, this is Gabriel. Gabriel, this is my best friend, Jen."

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Come on in and make yourselves comfortable."

As soon as she was through the door, Celie pulled Jen aside. "Girl, you look cute," she whispered, her eyes twinkling. "That necklace is new, isn't it?"

Jen tried and failed to hide a smile. "Yeah. Robert."

"He's a keeper," Celie hummed. "You ready for him to meet your parents?"

"I think so? It feels like I've been waiting for this moment for a while."

"Well, if anything somehow goes sideways, remember that I have your back."

Jen reached over to gratefully squeeze her hand. "Thanks, Celie."

The three boys were already deep in conversation about something by the time Jen and Celie joined them. That didn't take very long. But it made her heart so full to finally be able to have all of these people in the same room instead of trying to hide them from each other.

There was one last knock, the one she had been bracing herself for. Butterflies swarmed around in her stomach as Robert got up from the couch to follow her to the door, lingering slightly behind her.

When she pulled it open, she was promptly attacked with a hug from her mother. A tight hug. A very motherly hug.

"Hi, Mommy," she said quietly, secretly treasuring the hug more than she would ever admit out loud.

She was so relieved that her mom didn't hate her for not telling her about Victor when Dad wouldn't. Things had understandably been rocky when he first talked to her about it – it wasn't like it was easy to take someone else's word for something so life-altering that you had no recollection of – but she had been thankful to Jen for talking her through the few parts she'd been there for, like the day she and Victor met. And after a messy couple of weeks, Mom and Dad were getting along much better, too.

"I'm so happy you guys came," she told them, and for the first time in a long time, she meant it. Dad's arm was still in a cast, but he appeared to be in good spirits, and the both of them were not-so-inconspicuously peering over her shoulder at Robert.

"Mom, Dad, this is–"

But Jen's mother marched right past her towards Robert – "We all know who this is," she said – and went straight for a hug. "It's so nice to finally meet you."

Her poor boyfriend looked like a deer caught in headlights for just a couple of seconds, but he was much more a hugger than Jen was, so he got over it very quickly and calmly smiled. "The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Adler."

She let go of him, turned to Jen, and told her (as if he wasn't standing right there). "I like this one. He's sweet."

Jen heard Celie giggle from the couch.

In a much more standard method of greeting, Dad and Robert shook hands before they all went into the living room. The lone bowl of popcorn was a far cry from what her guests had probably been expecting when she told them that there would be light refreshments, but she was undeterred. She and Robert had a trick or two up their sleeves.

"Is anyone in the mood for something sweet?" she offered. "Robert made us cannolis."

And Mom, putting her hand over her heart in an unneccessarily dramatic fashion, asked in awe, "He cooks?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Jen saw him turn slightly pink. Dear Lord.

Forget about Victor Ambrose—by the end of the night, Jen's mother was going to steal her boyfriend.

"I think my mom is obsessed with you."

Jen had nestled up to Robert on the couch as soon as Celie and Gabriel, the last remaining party guests, had departed a few minutes prior. The last few dregs of cannolis and popcorn kernels remained on the coffee table, untouched yet by either of them. His arm was around her; a candle was burning; Sinatra was still softly crooning in the corner. Jen did not want to move just yet.

"That's a much better problem to have than her hating me."

Jen nodded her agreement and rested her chin on his shoulder. "They think you're great," she murmured, reaching up to stroke his soft curls. "I can tell."

"Your dad is a bit hard to read."

"Vague is a good thing with him," she explained. "He's kind of like your sister. His disapproval would be obvious if there was any."

"Ah, I see."

"You wanna help me tidy up before you have to go?" she asked reluctantly, wanting neither to clean nor for him to leave.

There were a handful of paper plates lying around as well. His cannolis, as well as the other less-impressive snacks she'd conjured up, were all hits.

Robert led the way by standing up and holding out his hands to pull her to her feet. As he did, she saw his eyes trail the length of her body, slowly drinking in her appearance like wine. "Have I told you that you look...what's a good word? Ravishing?"

Jen grinned. "That is a good word. You have quite the knack for those." She looked down at her dress, a pale pink, knee-length number that paired dreamily well with the necklace he'd gotten for her. "It's almost a shame I was just sitting around in my apartment in this."

An arm slid around her waist, drawing her towards him. She didn't resist it. "We don't have to sit around. We have music."

"I don't know how to dance."

"That isn't going to stop me as long as it isn't going to stop you."

So Jen placed her hands on his shoulders, which allowed her to put as little space between them as she liked. "Okay then, mister. Show me how it's done."

There was hardly any room to truly dance, of course, but they fell into a nice rhythm of gently swaying, which Jen preferred anyway. She didn't want to worry about having to move her feet or stepping on him. All she wanted was to be this close, to lean her head on him so she could listen to his heartbeat and feel the melody of his breathing.

"There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about," he confessed.

This declaration didn't make her nervous—if there was something bad coming, he would have said it before she made him sit through an evening with her parents.

"I've been trying to find to find the right way to talk about it," he continued softly. Oh so softly. "And I haven't, so I wrote you a letter this afternoon."

"And where is this letter?"

"In my head," he divulged with a small laugh. "I didn't have a chance to actually put it on paper."

Jen drew back just enough that she could look at his face, her lips curving upwards. "Alright, Shakespeare. Recite this letter to me."

"My dearest, ravishing Jen–" she grinned. "–Before I met you, I thought I already had everything I wanted. I thought I was perfectly happy."

His voice, light and teasing just a moment before, decrescendoed into something delicate. "You make me happier than I even knew was possible, Jen. Some days it feels like you know me better than I could ever know myself."

She did not know what her own expression looked like, if it was anything near as velvety yet shattering as his. But she curved her hand around the back of his neck and gave him a mild nod, for she felt that very same way about him.

"That shouldn't be possible, but it is. When I'm with you, everything just..." he paused, like he'd diverged from his script. "Everything suddenly makes more sense than it did before."

Her heart swelled with an affection like nothing else she had ever experienced, that made her want to hold him as tightly as she could and never, ever let him go. She had never wanted to cling onto another human being so fiercely, to protect them from all of the uncontrollable darkness in the world. But as she lifted his eyes to his, she felt as though she had finally found the soul that mirrored her own.

Tenderly, she asked. "What's my Italian lesson for today?"

The corners of his mouth turned upwards into a shy, heartbreaking smile. "Ti amo. I love you."

Love. He loves me. For a second, Jen's heart fluttered like the wings of a bird released from a cage. But then, unexpectedly, that sensation ebbed away, and it dawned on her that she felt more peaceful than surprised. Everything suddenly makes more sense than it did before.

She took his face in her hands and drew his mouth down to her own, placing what felt like hundreds of kisses onto his lips. She could taste the sweetness lingering on him, and she smiled as his fingertips started to trail along her back, her cheeks, her hair like he was trying to commit every part of her to his memory. So she guided his lips to the corner of her mouth, her jaw, each of her cheeks.

Finally, she bowed her chin so he could press a kiss against her forehead. "How do I say I love you too?"

"I think you just did."

She gave him her best glare, which was probably highly unconvincing given the particular moment. "You know what I meant."

"Anch'io ti amo."

When Jen tried to repeat it, she sounded like an idiot and felt herself immediately going red.

"Oh, no." She bashfully buried her face in his shoulder. "We're going to have to work on my pronunciation. A lot."

But he rubbed her back as if to soothe her, and when she peered up at him again, he was wearing a grin as bright as the sun.

"It's okay," he murmured, resting his forehead against her own and tilting her lips back up to his. In spite of herself, she smiled, like she somehow knew what he was going to say next. "I knew what you meant."

THE END

(make sure to keep scrolling for my final author's note!)