Page 23 of What About Now

Hopping out of the truck, I don’t even bother going into the house. I head straight for the detached garage, entering through the side entry door and start my truck. I sit inside and shiver until it’s warm, and pull out, hit the garage door opener, and head toward home.

When I get halfway home, I know I need to turn around. I need to tell my parents I’m married, and that’s a conversation we need to have face-to-face. Fifteen minutes later, I’m pulling into their driveway. I keep the truck running because I don’t plan to stay long. My wife is waiting for me, and I’m anxious to get home to her.

“Mom! Dad!” I call out as I step through the door. I don’t bother knocking because my parents have told me more times than I can count that I don’t need to—that this will always be my home.

“In the kitchen!” Dad calls back.

I stride down the hall and step into the kitchen to see Mom sitting at the island while Dad slices a loaf of homemade bread. “Hey.” I hug my mom and kiss her cheek.

“What brings you here?” she asks, returning my hug.

“Oh, you know, I thought I should drop in to tell you that I got married.”

Dad stops what he’s doing and his eyes find mine. “For real?”

I nod. “Yeah, she’s incredible.”

“We didn’t even know you were dating anyone,” Mom says.

“I wasn’t.” I go on to tell her how I’ve been interested in Brogan for months and why I never took my shot.

“You always take the shot, son,” Dad tells me after I’ve explained my current situation.

“I know, and the one time I didn’t, I regretted it. I learned from that mistake.”

“How does she feel about all of this? Your wife, Brogan, right?” Mom clarifies.

“Yeah, Brogan,” I say, not holding back the smile just saying her name brings to my face. “She’s worried I’ll change my mind. She has a past that’s shaped her feelings. She wants this to work.”

Mom nods. “When do we get to meet her?”

“Soon, but I’m going to leave that up to her. I’m going to give her some time before I bring it up. I need to get going. She’s at home waiting for me.”

“And where is home?” Dad asks.

“Wherever she is,” I answer automatically.

“Good answer, son. Give your wife our best, and let her know we can’t wait to meet her, but she can take all the time she needs.”

“It’s poetic, really,” Mom says. “We met and fell in love quickly. You grew up hearing our love story; it’s only natural you’d have one similar.”

Love.

“Love you, Mom.”

“Love you too.”

“Hey!” Dad pretends to pout.

“Love you too, old man.” I wave, and then I’m rushing out the door. Rushing home to my wife.

At the front door with a bouquet of flowers in hand, I hesitate. This is my home now, but am I supposed to knock? Deciding to just walk on in, I turn the handle and call out, “Honey, I’m home!” Kicking off my shoes, I go in search of my wife.

I find her in the living room curled up with a blanket, watching TV. “Hey. You’re back early.”

“Yeah, my client canceled, so I stopped by my parents’ and then came straight home.” I sit next to her on the couch and lean in to kiss her cheek. “These are for you.”

“What? You bought me flowers?”

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