twenty-four: big news

It's been a couple weeks since Storie and I got engaged and we haven't had the chance to go down to Cincinnati to see my parents, so my family still has no idea that I popped the question, that Storie said yes. Neither of us have posted anything anywhere, no way for any of them to find out before we tell them. Which will happen this weekend, at last.

Three days with my family. I'm looking forward to it, even if I am slightly dreading what my asshole brothers will say when they hear I'm getting married. Which I still can't believe. I'm getting married. I only proposed once I was pretty sure Storie would say yes but part of me can't believe she did. She's my fiancée.

It's been almost three months since we last made it down to Cincy and Mom pokes me every now and then to check that we haven't forgotten about them. As if I ever could. Daria would never let that happen. Even if I was knocked on the head and lost my memory, she wouldn't accept it.

"Ready?" I ask, standing by the door to the apartment with a backpack over my shoulder, keys in my hand.

"I'm ready for the journey and the weekend in the most general sense," Storie says, shouldering her own bag, "but I'm not sure I'll ever be ready for your sister's reaction when we tell her. And your mom's, for that matter."

I hold out my hand to her. She takes it, and I squeeze. "It'll be fine. Just ... loud."

Storie laughs. "Very loud. Probably quite overstimulating. Let's do it."

We hold hands all the way down to the parking lot beneath our apartment building, only separating when I get into the driver's seat and Storie sits next to me. As soon as I've released the handbrake, my hand goes to her thigh and she laces her fingers with mine, and we stay that way for most of the drive. Three and a half hours with the windows rolled down, the late July sun pouring through the windshield and warming the air. It's almost eighty degrees today, so it's a relief to get on the interstate, the wind buffeting my hair.

"How do you want to do it?" I ask when I have to take my hand out from under hers to indicate right to get off the freeway, not too far from my parents' place now. "Should we have gotten a ring as a prop?"

Storie laughs and says, "Knowing Allie, she'd be screeching the moment we walked through the door. I bet she checks my hand every time she sees us."

"We can swing by a pawn shop, see if we can pick something up," I joke. "Unless you've got a whole speech planned?"

"I figured it'll just ... come out," she says. "We get there, your mom asks what we've been up to since she last saw us and we say, well, we spent an entire month traveling across the country. That'll take up quite a bit of time, I imagine. Your sisters will have questions about everything we did and saw."

I glance at her as she speaks. She has this little smile on her face as she looks out of the window, her eyes tracking the scenery as it changes from roads and buildings to fields and stretches of nothing.

"Then," she continues, "either your mom or your dad – if he's there – will ask what we've been up to since we got back, why we haven't been down yet. And that's when we tell them. I haven't figured out the exact wording yet, but I think it'll come to us in the moment."

"You've got it all figured out, huh?"

She taps her temple. "You know me."

I do. I know how her brain works, how she overthinks everything, bad or good; how she likes to emotionally prepare herself for all eventualities; how she will sometimes spend hours or days planning how conversations will go only for it to be wasted because the other person can't be predicted that easily.

When it comes to my family, though, she's almost always right. They're pretty predictable.

Half an hour later, we pull up behind my mom's car. Dad's home too. He's been making more of an effort, the last couple of years, to be more present. He's not old by any stretch of the imagination, not yet fifty, but I think he's starting to realize that he can always make more money – not that he needs to – but his kids won't be kids forever, and my sisters are still young enough for him to make the most of their childhood.

"Ready?" I ask again when I get out of the car and take Storie's hand once more.

"Doesn't matter how ready we are." Storie cups her ear, leaning towards the house. "I think I hear the dulcet screeches of your sisters already. They've smelled our arrival."

I laugh, but a moment later the front door is flung open and Daria tears out of the house like a little tornado, her blonde hair flying behind her. Anna follows behind, a little less rabidly, and Mom brings up the rear, standing on the doorstep.

"Hey, Dar," I say, letting out a grunt when she barrels into me for a hug, but I don't get much of her attention. She prefers my fiancée to me. I don't blame her. Storie's a much better person than me, and she gives the most amazing hugs. Anna sidles up to me though and wraps her arms around me, and I pick her up and swing her around. "Hi, Anna banana."

"Hi, Lee-lee," she says quietly. I thought Anna might end up even wilder than Daria, trying to outshine her big sister, but she hasn't. Not yet, anyway. There's time. I carry her back to the house, where I set her down so I can hug Mom.

"Liam," she says, holding me tight. "How are you both? How was your trip? I want to hear everything. Come in, come in. It's after five, isn't it? Let's have a drink."

Storie's right.

The first forty-five minutes that we're here, at least, are spent recounting the trip we took last month. I went to sit on the same sofa as Storie but Daria and Anna beat me to it, claiming her for themselves, so I'm sharing with Mom. Dad appears from his office halfway through and sits on the arm of the sofa, a finger in the knot of his tie as he pulls it loose, his arm around Mom's shoulders.

"It sounds like you two had a wonderful trip," he says when there's a gap in the storytelling, and he gets up to greet us properly. He bends down to hug Storie and I stand. "It's good to see you both." He steps back after hugging me and after a quick appraisal, he says, "You look well, Liam."

Four simple words that mean so much. I still get a rush of joy every time he calls me Liam, after he finally caught on that no-one ever calls me William, that name reserved for my passport and my birth certificate.

"So, you got back from your trip when, two weeks ago?" he asks. I glance at Storie. So far she was bang on the money.

"Yeah, we did."

"Two weeks ago!" Daria interjects, with a cry of indignation. "Why didn't you come straight home, Willy? It's not fair, you get to see Storie all the time, we wanna see her too."

"Sorry, Daria," Storie says. "It's not Willy's – uh, Liam's – fault. We wanted to come straight here but we had to work." She pulls a face, though she loves her job. "We came as soon as we could. We knew you'd want to hear everything."

"Been up to anything nice since you got back?" Mom asks.

Storie and I share a look, silently deciding which one of us breaks the news. We come to a wordless agreement. I shift sideways on the sofa to face both my parents, with my sisters and my fiancée in my peripheral vision.

"Yeah, actually," I say, and I can't stop the huge smile that takes over my face when I get to say, "We got engaged."

Mom gasps so loud it's a wonder there's any air left in the room. Both her hands fly to her mouth. Behind her, Dad gives me a small but very real smile. The kind of smile that says good job, son. The kind of smile that warms me from the inside out.

"Wait, what?" Daria cries out. "What'd I miss? What's engaged?"

Storie puts her arm around my sister and says, "Liam and I are getting married."

And that's when the screaming starts.

Dad covers his ears. Daria turns into a little banshee, running around the room like a puppy with the zoomies, shrieking with joy and jumping up and down with Anna, who doesn't full understand but she's happy nonetheless. Mom, of course, is crying. I didn't expect any other reaction.

It's a while before the racket settles down, when Dad scoops Daria up as though she weighs nothing and says, "Enough, solnyshka. I can't hear myself think and I need to speak to my son."

With a hyperventilating Daria under one arm, Dad hugs me with the other and quietly he says, "Congratulations, Liam. You know how I feel about Storie. You're a lucky man to have found someone like her. It has made me so happy to see how happy you are."

Now I'm getting choked up as I thank him and hug him back and when he moves on to Storie, Mom almost knocks me over with the force of her hug once she's gotten over her shock.

"You're engaged," she says, sounding kind of dazed, her eyes wet. "Oh, Liam." The tears start up again. "I'm so happy for you. Storie, come here." She pulls Storie away from Dad and throws her arms around both of us. "I can't believe my little boy's getting married."

"Don't worry, you have three more even littler boys who are nowhere near marriage," I joke, holdking onto Storie when Mom lets go.

All the commotion has managed to capture the attention of said boys. Two of them, at least. Sam and George appear in the doorway to the living room looking perturbed. George says, "What's with all the screaming? It sounds like a lot of murders."

Daria wriggles free from Dad's hold and yells out, "Willy's getting married!"

"To Storie?" George asks, looking straight at Storie, who laughs.

"No, I'm just here as a stand-in for Liam's actual fiancée. She couldn't make it today."

I look at my little brother and say, "Stupid question alert, George."

"Just checking." He holds up his hands. "Congrats. That doesn't explain all the screaming though."

Mom tuts at George and says, "Your little sister is much more in touch with her emotions than you are, Georgie. Screaming is how she shows excitement."

"I wish it wasn't," Dad says under his breath. I laugh, and he smiles when he meets my eye.

Wincing, George rubs his ears and says, "Well, can you, like, not, Dar? I literally thought everyone was getting axe murdered in here."

"And yet instead of hiding or getting help, you just strolled in all nonchalant?" I raise my eyebrows at him. He shrugs.

"If my entire family's being murdered, they might as well take me too. I don't wanna be an orphan and have to raise Sammy."

"Hey," Sammy says.

"Okay, we're gonna need to unpack all that at some point," I say, "but now that you know we're all alive, maybe you can be happy for me and your future sister-in-law?"

"What? I said congrats!" George says.

I don't know why I bother. I turn to Sam instead, who holds up his hand for a high five, and who hasn't yet hit that age where he thinks he's too cool for hugs. Johnny's not home and Matt doesn't live here anymore, but we've done a pretty good job of telling everyone at once otherwise.

Mom keeps a bottle of champagne in the house at all times in case of moments like these, and she's overjoyed to be able to pop the cork and pour four glasses. It's pretty much the exact homecoming Storie predicted and I know she'll be quietly happy with herself for having gotten it right. I love how well she knows my family, how she could've choreographed this scene right down to George's teenage grumpiness.

It's a relief, once things have settled down and we've had dinner and the girls have gone to bed, to sit with my arm around Storie with a glass of champagne in my hand. It's just us and my parents now, a much calmer atmosphere between us as we enjoy the last of the summer sun out on the back deck.

"This is so exciting," Mom says. "Look at you, all grown up."

Storie chuckles and puts her hand on my knee. "Such a big boy now, aren't you?"

She doesn't usually drink much but she got caught up in all the excitement and she's on her third glass of champagne now, her eyes twinkling and her grin wide.

"Do you have any idea what you want to do for your wedding?" Dad asks. He glances at Mom and back to me when he says, "I know how expensive they can be these days. Your mother and I are happy to cover the costs."

"Dad, you don't need to do that," I start, but he holds up a hand.

"I don't want to be morbid, Liam," Dad says, "but I've come to realize that I can't take it with me when I die."

"Pretty morbid. Is this you're way of telling me you're sick?" I ask, sudden dread taking off.

"No, no, of course not," Dad says, "but a colleague in his fifties died last month."

"Dad, I'm so sorry," I say. He gives me a small smile.

"We weren't close," he says, "but we were similar. Driven. Always looking to make more money, thinking we're doing it to support our families. But I spoke to his widow, and she put some things into perspective for me. She had more money than she knew what to do with, but she didn't have her husband."

Mom blinks a few times and reaches out to put her hand over Dad's.

"All I'm saying is, there's no point working so hard to make the money I make if I don't do something with it," Dad says. His expression is more earnest than I'm used to. His colleague's death must have really shaken him up.

"That's so generous, Vitaly," Storie says, "but we really don't want a big wedding. I hate being the center of attention. Liam and I were talking about just going to city hall, or something. Save our money for the honeymoon."

"City hall?" Mom is aghast. "Storie, honey, no. You don't have to have a big party, but not city hall."

"We haven't ironed anything out yet," I say. I'm not entirely sold on city hall, to be honest. I am on board with Storie's point – we don't want to spent all of our cash on a big wedding when we're more interested in traveling after we're married, but I still want it to be a special day, somewhere beautiful. "It won't be big or expensive, though. I really appreciate your offer, Dad, but we'll be okay."

Dad presses his lips together like he's coming up with a rebuttal. This is a new side of him. "We'll contribute to your honeymoon, then," he says, like that's final.

"And when it comes to the time that you two want to move into a bigger place," Mom says, with a quirk of her eyebrows like she's imagining grandchildren already, "come to us. You don't need to do all this alone."

I laugh, overwhelmed, and I jokingly say, "Want to wipe out my college debt while you're at it?"

Dad frowns. "You have college debt?"

"Uh, yeah."

Mom joins the frowning. "You got a scholarship, didn't you?"

"No?" I shake my head, and recollection dawns. I was supposed to get a scholarship, I was on track for one, but I didn't make the grades. I was too ashamed to tell my parents so I took out a loan. My parents sent me money every semester while I was at college, but nowhere near enough to cover tuition.

"Liam!" Mom cries out. "Why didn't you say anything? How much do you owe? Vit, get your checkbook."

I'm about to protest, to act like it's no big deal, but Storie squeezes my hand and I cave. I scratch my neck, unable to look my parents in the eye as I tell them that I have over fifty thousand dollars of debt from the loans I took out when I was eighteen. I wait for Dad to give me that look, the one that says I'm disappointed in you, son, but he doesn't.

"Consider it sorted," he says. I choke.

"Dad. That's hardly pocket change."

"Liam," Mom says. "Let your father help you out. What's the point in us having money if you're saddled with debt? I wish you'd told us sooner. You can be so stubborn, you know."

"I know. I'm sorry." I lean back in my seat, and my shoulders feel lighter. A weight lifted off them. Both the heft of my debt, and the secret I kept from my parents all this time. That burden is gone, in a matter of seconds. "Thank you."

"Storie?" Dad says. "Any secret debt while I'm in giving spirit?"

Storie laughs and shakes her head. "No, I'm all good. I actually did get a scholarship," she says, "and even if I didn't, I couldn't take your money." She laces her fingers with mine and kisses the back of my hand. "I'll happily encourage your son to, though."

It's late when we eventually make it to my room, after a couple hours chatting with my parents, my dad in a remarkably talkative mood as he sipped his champagne and drew patterns on Mom's arm with the tip of his finger. We stayed outside until after dark.

Now I can't stop yawning as Storie and I get into bed. I've just started peeing, the door to my ensuite bathroom cracked open a couple inches, when Storie lets out such a loud gasp that I almost lose control of my stream.

"Jesus, Storie!" I cry out. "What is it?"

She runs into the bathroom and thrusts her phone in my face.

"Can it wait a sec?" I flush and wash my hands and when I look up, her eyes are wet. "Shit, what is it? Are you okay?"

Her lip trembles. A fat tear rolls down her cheek. I dry my hands on my pajama bottoms and take her phone from her. It's open to her family group chat. The latest message is a text from Gray. A picture of a swaddled newborn and a message beneath: little miss drama had to make an entrance a couple weeks early!

"Oh my god," I say, leaning against the sink. "Navya had the baby?"

"Isn't she gorgeous?"

In general, all babies look the same, but Storie's right. Gray and Navya's baby is gorgeous, with eyes as dark as coal and the thickest head of hair I've ever seen on a baby.

"I can't believe Gray's a dad," I say. I let out a long breath. A second text comes through as I'm holding the phone, a followup from Gray.

Welcome to the world, Amina Maya Khatri-Ono. Nav and I can't wait for you all to meet our daughter! (Can you believe I am a DAD?!?)

Storie takes her phone back to reply. Plenty of hearts and crying emojis, summing up her actual expression right now. Her phone starts buzzing like mad as her mom and her stepdad see the picture and replies pour in, and I watch as she grins and cries and types. I sit next to her and slip my arm around her waist and she leans against me. I kiss the top of her head and breathe her in.

"She's so perfect," she says quietly, touching the picture of Gray's daughter. "I want one."

"I know how we can make one."

She looks up at me, laughter in her glistening eyes. "Oh, you do, do you?"

"I do. I listened in health class," I say, grinning down at her. "When a mommy and a daddy love each other very much..." I trail off as I kiss her, holding her soft body to mine. But after a minute, she pulls away.

"Let's get married first," she says. "One thing at a time."

I sigh. "Okay. How do you feel about city hall at nine a.m. tomorrow?"

She kisses me again, smiling against my lips, and flops onto her back. "I can't believe Gray really has a child. I can't believe I'm an aunt!"

"That kid," I say as I lean over her, my hands either side of her shoulders, "doesn't know how fucking lucky she is, getting you as an aunt."

Storie pulls me on top of her and wraps a leg around me, holding me in place as she kisses me and whispers, "I guess we can practice."

*

fun fact: it's been about two years since i last wrote anything for this book when it was supposed to be a novella complete in time for christmas 2018. that clearly failed miserably, but i am back now! at last! i reread all of me & winter wonderland so hopefully there aren't any glaring inconsistences this time around (i can't say the same for some of the previous chapters - sorry to those of you who have pointed out errors).

anyway! i hope you like this chapter. i have actually sat down and plotted it out for the first time in five years so i can now say with certainty that there are seven more to come after this one, and i do intend for it to be done by christmas this year