Right (Wrong 2)

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Are you staying forever too? Like Mr. Pants? Or will you leave sometimes, like a nanny? They leave and take care of other kids. My mom leaves too. I don’t know why.”

“We’re forever friends, Jake.” I want to tell him more, explain how much I love him and that I’d never leave him behind, not for anything or anyone. But I settle on that explanation for now and the frown leaves his forehead and a smile lights up his face, so I think I got it right.

Fifty-Two

“I’m gonna write a book,” I announce to Chloe when I get back to the dorm that night.

“Okay, sounds good,” Chloe says with a yawn as she snaps her laptop shut. “A political thriller? Dorm room cuisine? Wait, I’ve got it.” She snaps her fingers and points at me. “A guide to Christian courtships?”

“A children’s book,” I advise as I open a blank notebook and a pencil. “About me and Jake.”

“Huh,” she says, climbing into her bed. “For once, that’s not the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

“I know. It’s like my entire life has been leading to this moment, don’t you think?” I tap the pencil on my notepad and look up.

“That might be just slightly dramatic.” She holds up a finger and thumb an inch apart to demonstrate. “But classic Everly.”

I work on the book every spare second for a month. Graduation is looming, final exams and papers coming up in every class. Sawyer offers to give me whatever cash I need so I can quit my part-time job at Grind Me, but I tell him no, thank you very much, big daddy. I do ask him if I should get an apartment with Chloe after graduation or not. He says not, but stops short of asking me to move in with him and Jake. Instead he reminds me that he owns the condo next door and the nanny is only using one bedroom, winking as he says it. Time will tell but I think we all know how that’s going to end.

I find a place that will turn your work into a book. So I digitalize everything and hand off Forever Home to be printed. Just one copy. I drew the pictures myself. It’s not the best artwork in the world, but art is subjective, right? It doesn’t matter to me, because the only person it was meant for loves it. We read it together every time we’re together. It’s our story, Jake’s and mine. But at its heart it’s a story about loving the family you put together, piece by piece. That includes nannies and teachers, friends and grandparents. Cats and dogs too. Even goldfish.

A couple of weeks before graduation Sawyer tells me he wants me to attend a work function with him. Something boring about an acquisition and spouses in attendance. I don’t focus on the details other than the when and the what to wear.

He picks me up at school and drives me back to the Ritz-Carlton. I make a production of asking him if he’s made up this business dinner in order to lure me to a fancy hotel room for sex, nostalgic about my outburst on our first date.

Now, like then, he tells me we’re just parking the car.

Oh, well. A girl can hope.

He takes my hand and we head towards 15th Street, walking through Dilworth Park towards John F Kennedy Boulevard. Love Park is ahead of us, walled off in construction fencing, the year-long park renovation well under way. So I’m surprised when we stop, a security guard opening a gate for us to pass through with a nod from Sawyer.

“What are we doing, Sawyer? The park is closed.”

“Just cutting through,” he says.

But he leads us further into the park, stopping at a small candlelit table, champagne chilling in an ice bucket beside it.

“I lied,” he says.

I like where this is going.