Headstrong Like Us (Like Us 6)

“Yeah.” I adjust my clutch on the diving board. Moving closer to him. Our legs thread, and he keeps nodding.

Our chests rise and fall in deep breaths.

“And you know she wishes Jane and Thatcher were getting married before us because they’re straight?”

“Crystal clear, yeah.” I nod.

He nods back. “And she’s not dying to attend the wedding out of love for you and me. She’s a blue-blooded elitist who’s convulsing at being left out of the social event of the year.”

My eyes are on fire. “We shouldn’t invite her—”

“We’re inviting that old bat,” Farrow says definitively. “Because we won’t let her ruin a fucking thing, and you know I have such few regrets in life—but I’d regret not helping Lily and Lo when we had the chance.”

I inhale a strong breath.

There was a pretty humongous chance he’d disagree with me. He could’ve easily said, this is a bad idea, wolf scout. Maybe it still is one.

Or maybe it’s the right path. The right thing.

All I know now is that we’re jumping headfirst together.

17

FARROW KEENE

A week passes, and you’d think Ripley would’ve fallen in love with me by now. With all my doting, who wouldn’t? But he’s as stubborn as Maximoff and me.

“Where’d Ripley go?” I playfully cover a hand over my eyes.

He wails in a scream.

I uncover them. “There he is.” Crying in his crib. I tickle his stomach and he reconsiders a second shriek.

Sitting on the Spider-Man twin bed, Maximoff peers over the top of his laptop. Computer balancing on his bent knees. “Hey, he stopped.”

“He’s about to fall asleep.” I know what’s to come. And true enough, Ripley’s eyes flutter closed, tired as fuck. He basically screams himself into exhaustion.

Maximoff grimaces. “I hate when he does that.”

I grab my watch from the dresser. To calm my fiancé’s nerves, I always end up checking Ripley’s vitals. “You book the tickets?” I wonder.

“Yep. Our bachelor parties are set.” He shuts the laptop, his focus swerving to the door. He has this faraway look.

Same one he’s had since the conversation with his parents a week ago. We called Grandmother Calloway on the phone together. Short, brief, and to the point: she’s coming to the wedding.

It’s not such a shot to the heart.

I like that we’re taking action. And I wanted to do this for Maximoff, not just for Lily and Lo. He has this intrinsic need to protect his family, and he can’t live knowing he didn’t try. Fuck, he would be a shell, and I crave to give him everything that makes him whole.

“Your parents seem like they’re doing better,” I tell him. “They’re showing up to dinners.”

“Yeah…” Doubt lingers in his voice. Doubt that had never been there before.

I reach into the crib. “I liked you better when you were their biggest cheerleader.” I place my finger on the crease of Ripley’s little elbow, feeling the thump of his pulse.

Maximoff rolls out his tense neck. “I still believe in them. I do.” It sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.

Glancing at my watch, I count the number of beats for thirty-seconds. And then I observe Ripley’s breaths for another thirty.

Maximoff scrutinizes me. “Is he okay?”

“Healthy and alive.” I look up at him. “If you believe in your parents, then you should believe they’ll be less stressed now that your grandmother can stop complaining.”

He scrunches his face. “Where’d you mine all that profound wisdom?”

I point to my chest. “Yale undergrad. Yale med school.” I point to him. “Harvard Dro—”

“We know. The world knows. Thank you for the second nickname.”

I grin, and I decide to mention other shit that we’re dealing with. “You need to stop dragging your feet about the move.”

We’ve been in this house for over a month. Maximoff was siding on Team New York, but ever since last week’s family dinner, he’s brushed off Luna, Sulli, and Jane whenever they surface buying a place.

As much as I love Lily and Lo and the Hale siblings, it’s better for us if we have more privacy. And for Ripley to have more stability. I don’t want this kid to become used to this house only to be ripped away.

“I’m not dragging my feet,” he says strongly. “It’s just bad timing, man.”

Maximoff.

I try to soften my gaze. His parents are addicts. There’ll always be bad timing. But Maximoff’s heart is cast in gold, and all he can see is the path to helping his parents.

I love him because he believes those paths exist.

“They’ll be okay when we leave.” I can’t believe I’m the one instilling the faith. Shit, I did not see this role-reversal.

Maximoff nods, then sneezes. He pulls a new Eagles hoodie over his head.

“You cold?” I frown and leave the crib.

“You upset?” Maximoff smiles. “Your presence can’t even heat me up.”

I roll my eyes. “No, smartass. It’s fucking hot as shit in this room.” I round to the thermostat. Sure enough, it’s really warm. I’m only wearing a black tank.