“Today’s gonna be a good day,” he promises. Then, shaking his head, he amends, “No, a great day.”
I am not convinced. I hand him my real cell phone and he takes it over to the Dumpster, tossing it in. He comes over to open the passenger side door of his car and I slide right in.
It’s a quiet ride. Sal looks over at me every now and then to check on me, but I don’t want to talk. I lean my head against the window and watch the city disappear. I try not to cry, telling myself it would be ridiculous to cry. I can’t even believe it’s this hard to leave a family I’ve railed against all my life. A family I’ve literally dreamed of being rescued from since I was a little girl.
I don’t think much of the residential neighborhood we’re driving through, of the idyllic little suburban homes with well-manicured lawns and lovingly attended flower beds planted in front of pretty front porches.
Then Sal hits his turn signal and slows down to take a right turn into the driveway of one of them. It’s a perfectly typical home, the kind sitcoms or family-centered TV dramas would show the audience to give them that domestic, middle-America feeling.
“Whose house is this?”
Sal reaches up and clicks a button on his visor. The garage door begins to rise. “Ethan’s.”
I frown. “We’re staying with Ethan?”
“No, he doesn’t live here anymore. This used to be his house, before he and his wife got divorced. He and Willow have an apartment now, the wife used to live here with the kids. Now she’s moved out, and lucky for us, they haven’t sold the place yet.”
Sal pulls into the garage and hits the button again so the garage door goes back down. He looks over and flashes me a smile, then pushes open his door and climbs out.
I feel a little calmer as I follow him to the white door that leads inside. The garage is muggy, but it’s nice and cool as soon as we step inside the hallway. A laundry room is off to the right, painted bright yellow with gleaming white tile and cabinets to match. It’s so domestic and cute I want to die.
We make it to the kitchen next, and it’s a lovely kitchen. It’s a nice size, like Sal’s, not overly large like the one at my house. It’s just the kind of kitchen where I could imagine preparing school lunches in the morning while the little ones eat their breakfast. There’s an island where I would stand, putting sandwiches in baggies and fitting fruit into lunch pails. Sal could stop right there, his hand falling to my waist as he leans in to give me a kiss he wouldn’t dare leave without.
It feels like fate when I see a little vase full of white hydrangeas on the dining room table, but then I realize it wasn’t fate, it was Sal. Obviously he knew we were coming here today, so he must’ve put those there for me.
“Thank you,” I say, reaching down and catching his hand as I nod at the vase.
“If I ever stop bringing you flowers, punch me in the face.”
I can’t help laughing a little, but I turn in his arms, letting my other hand come up to caress his face. “I love this face far too much to ever punch it.”
He smiles, leaning in to kiss me. “I’m pretty partial to yours, too.”
“Oh, are you?” I tease.
“Maybe a little.”
I nod thoughtfully. “I guess not a lot of women can truthfully say they have a man who would wage a literal war for them.”
Despite the seriousness of the situation, he gives me a wink. “I’d wage a different war every week if I had to.”
Sighing, I wrap my arms around his neck and lean in to hug him. “I’m so lucky.”
“It’s about time you found some luck,” he states, his arms tightening around my waist as he brings me close.
“You were worth the wait,” I inform him. “I’d wait another 28 years for you if I had to.”
I let go of him and walk over to the sink, looking out the window at the back yard. There’s a back patio with patio furniture. A wooden swing set draws my eye, a trampoline set up off to the side.
Sal walks up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and casually kissing my shoulder. “What are you thinking?”
“I love this place.”
“Yeah?”
I nod.
Lightly tugging me back, he says, “Why don’t we go see the rest?”
I’m already besotted, but I only fall deeper as he takes me through the house. There’s a study—probably a fifth of the size of my brother’s, but I realize I can’t imagine living in a house without a study. There’s no alcohol cart in this one, but hey, I need gift ideas for him anyway.