Page 107 of Never Have I Ever

It makes him laugh. “You’re rubbing off on me.”

“I could say the same.” With the sunset lit on our faces, I say, “I’m going to marry her, Dad.”

He nods, anticipating the perfect wave still coming. “I had a feeling.”

I don’t want to beg for approval or advice, but I still need it. “What do you think?”

With his arms loose at his sides, he looks at me. “I think Poppy would be a great match for you, a good partner, and you could be happy.”

“Could be happy?”

“You have to put in the work, Son. The honeymoon stage is great, but I wouldn’t trade it for what I have with your mother now for anything.” He paddles with his hands to maintain position but adds, “You’re in that stage of life when everything is bigger and more emotional. The fights, making up afterward, decisions on everything from where you’re going to live, where to raise your kids if you choose to go that route, to paying bills, and career highs and dips and then retirement.”

“I love her. Never a doubt. I’d elope if she wanted.”

Chuckling, he splashes me. “Nikki and Tulsa eloped and then kept it a secret for weeks or could have been longer. Give your mother one wedding, kid.”

“We’ll take it under consideration.” I laugh, seeing the waves pick back up. He’s right. Patience is key.

“There’s something to be said about finding peace within the person you choose to be with every day. Finding happiness where you’re planted and watching it grow.”

I knew I wanted to marry her, which is why I mentioned it to my dad, but hearing his words only reaffirms my commitment to being with her.

“If you’re asking my thoughts on if you should or if you’re ready, you’re ready.” He says, “Start paddling. You get dibs on the first wave.”

Turning around, I look back over my shoulder to see the wave coming. I start paddling as hard as I can, reminding myself how much the wave reflects life. All I have to do is ride it.

37

Poppy

Eighteen thousand fans chanting for Faris Wheel.

Though we can hear them, time still slips away from us backstage. At the climax of our connection, I’m calling out his name just as he is called to the stage. Laird doesn’t budge, holding me and kissing me as if we have all the time in the world. Cupping my face, he closes his eyes as he leans against me and whispers, “I love you so goddamn much, baby.”

“Get the fuck out here, Laird,” someone shouts from the other side of the locked door. He barely has time to clean up before the banging starts again, rattling the door on its hinges.

Zipping his jeans, he connects his gaze with mine, that smirk just about doing me in all over again. “Worth it,” he says with a chuckle.

“I love you.” I sneak the words in before he opens the door.

Looking back, he winks. “See you out there.”

As Faris Wheel is introduced under the setting Phoenix sun, I rush down the steps to find a place in the audience. Tugging at the hem of my short skirt, I’m hoping the flush in my cheeks fades before anyone is the wiser to what Laird and I just did. Does it matter? No. I’m still learning to let go of what others think, though.

The grin he’s given me hasn’t worn off as I weave through security and find my seat. It’s not needed. I have no intention of sitting during his show. Jet Crow’s wife is next to me, opening her arms and embracing me as if I’m already part of the family.

With The Resistance and The Crow Brothers playing after Faris Wheel, everyone is busy, including the significant others backstage. It’s nice she came out for the opening band, so I say, “Thanks for being here.”

She says, “I’m glad I could come to the show. I’m flying back tonight. Just a quick trip to support Jet and the band.” Leaning over, she adds, “And I’m a huge fan of Faris Wheel.”

“Me too.” I laugh, but it’s true. I’m Laird’s biggest fan and can’t wait to watch him perform. Seeing him shine like the star he is never gets old.

Nikki takes center stage, stealing everyone’s attention but mine. Laird’s eyes find me just as he kicks off the first song in full rock-god mode. It’s not a side of him I see often, and one that he hasn’t embodied in a while. He claims without our love to ground him, he’s floated through life. I understand because I was doing the same—half living, barely surviving, always searching—without my other half. God, I never thought I’d sound so cheesy, but I need him to breathe, and he needs me to help his heart beat. I’m so glad we share the same universe again because I’ve never been happier.

It would be easy to say we were built on sexual attraction alone since we have that in abundance, especially watching him now on stage. Tousled hair from my fingers running through it, hard abs and muscles defined that I flat-out licked backstage, broad shoulders that bear my weight when he wants me as a snack, and a face Aphrodite would create for her own personal taste. Good lord.

Yet that’s not how my gentle giant stole my heart all over again. It’s the way he looks at me like I’m his world, kisses me until my lips are swollen, makes sure my pleasure has peaked before he considers his own, and compliments me when I least expect it—in the kitchen cooking with no makeup on, baggy clothes, and dirty hair or just getting back from yoga, sweaty and flushed skin. It’s in the every day for us, not the big events, but the little moments that have always tied us together again.

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