“I know she looks rough, but her prognosis is really good. One more round of chemo next week, and she should be done.”
“Wow. Really?”
“Yep. We’re all really relieved. Especially the girls.”
“I bet.” She’s wearing the same outfit she wore to the party at the Parsnip last Saturday—jeans, a cream sweater, and that pretty flannel underneath. “You look beautiful.”
She shrugs. “I didn’t have the money to buy something new. And I figured…I only wore it for half an hour before going home.”
I want so badly to kiss her, but there are a lot of windows that look out from the lodge to the porch, and I’m not anxious for twenty sets of eyes to watch us make out.
I lean close to her and whisper, “I wish I could get you alone.”
“Dinner first, Romeo.” She chuckles, lowering her voice. “Alone-time after.”
***
Gran gives the blessing, thanking God for family near and far, present and past, for good friends, and for the fact that Priscilla’s treatment is working.
Meanwhile, there’s a whole drama going on at the table while almost everyone’s heads are bowed. Reeve tries not to peek at Aaron just as much as he tries not to peek at her, a weary McKenna leans her head on Tanner’s shoulder halfway through the prayer, Parker sticks her tongue out at Quinn at least twice, and Wren does a very loud baby fart just before we all say, “Amen.”
The food is predictably excellent, with all of the Thanksgiving staples—turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, green bean casserole, candied yams, cranberry sauce, and cornbread—represented, along with some of Gran’s Alaskan favorites, like smoked salmon with wild fireweed jelly and a small plate of braised sea cucumber for Paw-Paw.
When we’re not eating, Ivy and I hold hands under the table, and I count down the seconds until the meal is over, and I can have her to myself for a little while.
Vera, Aaron, Coach, Jenny, Vicky, and the Morgans insist on helping to clear the table, and in the chaos of standing up and stretching and clearing and cleaning, I take Ivy’s hand and sneak us out the side door. Before anyone knows we’re gone, we race across the campground to my cabin.
I climb the four steps to the door, then turn around, finding her still standing on the ground, looking up at me.
“Are you coming?”
She places her hands on either side of the railing and leans forward a touch, a slight smile on her face. “I think we need some ground rules.”
I flick a glance over the lodge. No one’s standing at the railing, yelling at me to come back and help, but it’s only a matter of time until one of my annoying siblings notices we’re gone.
“Can we make the rules inside?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No. Here. First.”
I nod at her, then take a seat on the top step, resting my elbows on my knees, and clasping my hands between my legs. Sitting like this, our faces are pretty level. She can look straight into my eyes and know she has my full attention.
“I’m listening,” I say. “Ground rules. Go for it.”
“I think we need to be on the same page because I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”
Huh.I think I’ve heard these exact words before. If I’m not wrong,and I know I’m not, she started a conversation with these exact words on our first date, over dessert, just before we went back to her place and made love for the first time.
“I’m having some seriousdéjà vu,” I tell her, feeling a little nervous.
Her grin widens as she continues.
“This is going tomean something, and it might lead tosomething serious,” she says, taking a step up closer to me. I unclasp my hands, so she can take another step and stand between my legs. She puts her hands on my shoulders, and mine reach for her hips. “You get that, right, Sawyer?”
In the original speech, she told me that whatever was about to happen was going to meannothingandcouldn’tlead toanything serious. I know what she’s doing. She’s rewriting our history. It’s the sweetest thing ever, and my heart races with love for her.
“Yep. I wouldn’t want it any other way,” I say, smiling back at her. I remember one of my lines from that night. “In fact, if you were my girl—”
“Oh, Iamyour girl,” she says.