“It’s nice to meet you,” Dean says, holding out his hand to shake. Dad takes his, confusion taking over his face.
“David, what’s going on?” Mom calls from the top of the stairs.
“Someone named Dean is here.”
“Dean!” Mom gasps and comes down the stairs. “Here, now?” She stops on the stairs next to Dad.
“I’m sorry to intrude,” Dean goes on. “I took a wrong turn and had to backtrack, making it take longer to get here than I expected.”
“Rory, what is going on?” Dad asks, glowering at Dean. I haven’t told him anything about Dean yet, and all Mom knows is that we were dating and it sizzled out.
“I love your daughter,” Dean says, looking back at me. My heart flutters and I lock my arms around his waist. “And she needs to know just how much she means to me. I couldn’t let her leave and take the job here without telling her that.”
“Can we have some privacy?” I ask, tearing my eyes away from Dean for a moment. “Please?”
“Yes,” Mom says, tugging Dad back up the stairs. I take Dean’s hand and we go to the living room couch. I’m shivering and Dean’s not wearing a coat. He pulls me close to him and I cover us both up with a blanket. Before either of us can say anything, Dean kisses me, pushing his tongue into my mouth.
“I’m so sorry, Rory,” he breathes between kisses. “I never should have let you walk away.” He runs his hands through my hair.
“No, you shouldn’t have.” I smile and kiss him again. “I love you, Dean, but I need something to be clear.”
“Okay.”
“I want a relationship that has the potential to turn into something more. Marriage. A family. I’m not saying I want it soon, but I need you to know that is my end game.”
“It’s mine too,” he confesses. “It’s always been my end game, and it didn’t work the first time, but it was because I wasn’t with the right person. You are the right person. My person. I’ve never felt this with anyone before.”
I’m smiling again. “I do like being your first.”
He pulls me onto his lap, adjusting the blanket. “Come home with me, Rory? I mean Eastwood. I know this is your home.”
“I grew up here, and my childhood home will always be special, but it feels…wrong. I know where I’m meant to be, and that’s in Eastwood. With you.”“Everything good?” I ask, rolling over. Dean and I are squished together in my old twin bed in my childhood bedroom.
“Yeah. It is.” We fell asleep in each other’s arms last night, and his work alarm just went off. He texted his dad, briefly explaining why he’s in Michigan, hence him not being able to go into work. “What are you going to do about the interview?” he asks, spooning his body around mind.
“Is it shitty to call off at the last second?”
“I think it’s better to cancel than to waste someone’s time with an interview when you’re not going to take the job.”
“True. But is it shitty to text Michelle instead of call her?”
Dean chuckles. “It’s not the most professional.”
“Dammit.” I roll over, facing Dean. A huge weight has been lifted off both of us, and despite how painful yesterday was, everything is perfect.
I’m in Dean’s arms.
I love him.
He loves me.
No one knows what the future holds, but we’re going to go into it together.
“Fine. I’ll call.” I tear myself out of Dean’s arms and grab my phone. My pulse quickens and I thankfully get Michelle’s voicemail. I leave her a message saying I just can’t leave my current job…or current life in Eastwood. I hang up and go back into Dean’s arms. We stay tangled up together a while longer, until the smell of coffee and bacon fills the house.
“We should get up,” Dean grumbles, not making any attempt to let me go.
“I’m hungry.”
“Me too.” He kisses my forehead. “And I’m looking forward to getting back to your place. We need to have makeup sex STAT.”
I laugh and put my lips to his. “There’s a make-out spot a few miles from here. We can pull off the road and do each other in the car like horny teenagers.”
“Don’t tease me, Rory.” He runs his hands up and down my body. “Are you tired? We have a long drive.”
“Ugh,” I grumble. “In separate cars.”
“Let’s get up and get it over with.” He presses his lips to my forehead and we both get up and go downstairs. Dad is at the stove, making breakfast.
“Honey,” Mom calls from her office. “Can I borrow you for a moment? You’re about the same size as my client and I need someone to try on this dress.”
“Yeah,” I tell her, knowing half her needing me is so Dad can talk with Dean. I take a sip of coffee and then go to Mom’s office. She’s holding a pale pink ballgown.