“It does seem rather rugged.”
“It has amazing safety ratings.”
“I am a safety girl.”
“See? I knew that. Please don’t be thinking I don’t get you, because I do.”
I reach for his hand and curl mine around it. “It’s a really nice
surprise. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“But I can keep the Honda for driving to work?”
He rolls his eyes. “If you must.”
“I must.”
Leaning across the center console, he says, “Kiss me.”
So I kiss him because there’s almost nothing else I’d rather do at any given moment.
“If you’re not happy, I’m not happy,” he says. “If you decide you don’t want to keep the G-Wagon, we won’t keep it. It’s no big deal.”
“It’s a big deal that you want me to drive the safest car you could find.”
“Keeping you and Ev and any other kids we have safe is the only thing I care about.”
He’s still grappling with the trauma of seeing his beloved daughter through a near-fatal illness, and knowing that makes me understand one of the primary reasons he wants me to have this particular vehicle. “Then I’ll drive it with pleasure to everywhere but the clinic because it brings you peace of mind.”
“Thank you.”
“I love you.”
“I love you more,” he says as he pulls back into traffic and hits the gas to get us to Abuela’s.
“No way.”
“Yes way.”
“I can’t wait to see Everly.”
“I know. This is the longest I’ve been away from her for anything other than work.”
We debated taking her with us to Hawaii, but after a rocky transition, she’s gotten into a good routine in Miami with a preschool she loves and new friends. She spends so much time with Austin’s parents, who live with us, that we decided it would be better for her to stay in her routine. Not to mention, it was the first time we’ve truly had to ourselves since we became a couple. Even though we FaceTimed with her every day, we still missed her like crazy.
I’m almost bouncing in my seat by the time we pull up to Abuela’s, which is mobbed with cars. We end up parking two blocks down the street and are walking to the house when we see Wyatt approaching from the other direction. I’ve been so caught up in getting home to Everly that I almost forgot about his big annual checkup today.
“How’d it go?” I ask him before we even say hello.
My sister is happier with him than she’s ever been in her life, and the thought of anything happening to him is simply unbearable—even if we all know he’s living on borrowed time.
He gives a thumbs-up. “All good. Got my inspection sticker renewed for another year.”
“Oh, thank God.” I hug him tightly. “Thank God.”
“Awww, you guys love me.”