All Grown Up (Eden High)

“Your woman just called ours to tell them the good news, you sap. Where the fuck do you get off? How henpecked are you anyway to think we’d go for this shit?”

“Track, I still haven’t the slightest clue what you fools are talking about.” He explained what they’d heard, and I figured things got crossed when my girl was telling the others about the tour we’d seen and the wedding.

“If you assholes would stop wiretapping on your women, you’d maybe get things straight,” I explained the situation, but they weren’t buying it. “What you wanna bet we’re gonna end up in a fucking clock suit.”

“Or a chandelier.”

“No fucking way. Listen up, jerkwad, this is your mess; you fix it. If she gets it into her head that that’s what she wants, even if you fight it, Sian’s miserable ass will ride me until you cave. A tux is as far as I go.” Everybody had an opinion on my shit, and all I did was propose to my girl. They’re gonna have fits when I tell them about their second honeymoons and our first in the French village of Conques.

The place is the blueprint for Belle’s childhood home in the movie, and I figured if I have to live through that shit, then so should they. Besides, we shared their honeymoons, no reason they can’t be there for ours. That’s my story, and I’m sticking with it.

Cassie

I can’t believe how great everything’s going. My nerves seem to have taken a backseat ever since I woke up this morning, most likely because we’d gotten that first moment of intimacy out of the way. I’d been so stressed over that one thing that now that I look back, it seems laughable. The girls were right; I was worried for nothing.

I should’ve known that Alex would take good care of me and not stress so much. It’s been more than I ever dreamed, and maybe that’s why I’m suddenly so afraid. It’s not possible for this kind of happiness to last, I know. I used to think that love was something magical, something that could never be broken. As a young child, it was my parents’ love for each other that made me feel safer than anything else ever could.

Our town isn’t exactly known for a great successful marriage rate. In fact, most of my peers were from broken homes. It’s so rampant that it had become the norm, but I’d foolishly believed that it could never happen to us. Not when there was so much love, but I’d been wrong.

Now the fear that the happiness I now feel might one day be tarnished as theirs was leaves me cold. To one day suffer the same at Alex’s hands fills me with dread. I know Sian swears it will never happen, but how can she know? Her parents and Jace’s, in fact, all the couples in our little group, come from happy homes.

Even if the parents aren’t the best for some, at least they’re still together. Their dreams were never broken; they never had to see the worst of their parents’ marriage as it disintegrated right before their eyes, so they can never know. I come from that; what makes me think I can do any better?

Now, as I stand here after sharing the most exciting news yet with the others, thoughts of home entered my mind, dulling some of the joy I’ve been feeling. For a little while, I was able to forget the hell that awaits me once we return. I felt gnawing angst in my gut as I thought of going back. Alex had already gotten things taken care of with my classes, which I didn’t even know he was doing.

He’d taken over and somehow had got my mom to agree to let me finish out the rest of the semester online so that I could go back with him when we return. That’s not what has me worried, somehow I always knew that he could pull it off, and besides, I’d planned on fighting my parents if they objected. I want to go, not only to get out of our town but because the thought of being apart from him for much longer makes me feel like I’m going crazy.

The only thing giving me pause is that dark cloud that has been hanging over everything. I don’t want to drag him into my family’s mess. Would he think that I’m worth it? If he knew what I’d done, what I’ve kept from him, would he walk away? I felt my heart drop at the thought.

It’s the one thing I’ve kept from him and the others, too ashamed and afraid to tell anyone else for fear of what they may think. Will they think less of me if they knew? Would he? Maybe I’ve been selfish not telling him the truth. Maybe in my quest to hang onto what happiness I got from being with him, I’d deceived him in a way that cannot be forgiven.