Page 124 of Between the Lines

“Yes. Yes I will.”

Something boyish transpires as I deliver myyes. It’s almost like he was building up the courage to ask me to the senior prom.

Later, laying on his chest long after Nathan is asleep, I let all of my emotions from the day wash over me in a slow tide.

We’re making plans. Plans for dinner in the city, and plans for me to attend hisparents’ charity galaas hisdate. I had a vision of him in a yard withourdogs, for crying out loud.

I don’t know if I can tell him about all of these things yet. The anxious feelings, and the fear of losing him before he’s even truly mine.

I’m terrified.

But I would be lying, too, if I said that the thought of a future, one crafted by my hands for once, doesn’t look sweet with him in the picture.

forty-nine

nathan

I have attendedthe gala for my parents’ childhood cancer foundation—Stars of Hope—since its inception. The gala has always been a fundraiser, but also a celebration for childhood cancer patients. While the adults fuss over checkbooks, the kids get to be kids for just a little while—well,fancykids. After spending months or years in the hospital—several, like Cal, without hair due to treatment—getting theroyaltreatment is something that many look forward to. In fact, once word got out, several local businesses began donating their services.

There are salons ready to beautify those with hair, and add glitter or other accessories to those without. Cosmetologists give whoever wants it the royal makeup treatment. Local dress shops donate formal wear for the night. After dinner, the dance floor becomes the main attraction—with hospital staff on call nearby. Watching all of the patients live so carefree for a night has always brought me joy unparalleled.

And then, Claire walked into my life.

Into the gala with her hand in mine.

And as soon as she saw the tables lined with beauty products and ready for makeovers, she stopped me in my tracks, her fresh yellowmanicure that I’d painted on last night in preparation pressed right over my heart.

“Oh my God. Nathan. Wait. I want to help.”

My heart had ballooned into her palm.

“We have enough time to run to the store, right? Oh my gosh, I can do nails!”

She had squealed, and held out her palm for my keys. I had hesitated, waffling between the thought of her behind the wheel with the already setting sun, and my duty as a chairman to be here early for a meeting with the rest of the board. In the end, I’d insisted that she share her location and text only when she arrived at the store and left. Now, I’m wildly okay with my decision.

With her supplies all set up for later, Claire and I find our table near the front of the hall to drop off our jackets and her purse, where we run into Dr. Marty and his wife, June.

“Dr. Marty, Ms. June; this is Claire Benson, my date.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Dr. Marty says with a smile and a hand extended toward Claire.

“Nathan! You didn’t tell us you were bringing a date!”

June gapes at me. I tug at my yellow tie, suddenly nervous. She shakes both of their hands, and I have a pinching feeling in my chest. It’s as if I’m introducing her to my parents. Suddenly, I feel tears pricking my waterline, because she will never meet my real mom and dad.

“Did he practice his speech on you?” Dr. Marty asks. “He usually sends me a copy the night before to go over, but I didn’t get one this year.”

Claire tilts her head up at me, and I realize I’ve been made.

“Speech?”

“Yeah,” Dr. Marty scoffs. “He gives one every year.”

“Oh, hedoes, does he?”

She crosses her arms and her gaze narrows as her expression turns coy. I gulp.

“Ever since he took over for his parents, Nate’s always given the welcome speech.”

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