Me:I proposed to Lettie last night, and she said yes.
Dag:Dang. You didn’t waste any time. Congrats!
Dag:Also, can I tell people, or do I have to keep more secrets? I’m not so good with the secrets.
Me:Not a secret.
Lettie already texted Layla and Tessa. Word is spreading, I’m sure. But after the way she and I danced at the wedding, most people aren’t going to be surprised that we’re an item. The quick engagement might shock them, but I have no doubt about this decision.
With the food bag cradled in one arm and a coffee cup in each hand, I make my way to our door. That’s when my lack of planning becomes evident. The keycard is in my back pocket.
I’m not going to make Lettie get up. So I take the coffee in my right hand and tuck it beside the food bag, pinning the cup to my chest with my left arm. Praying that the lid doesn’t pop off and add more burns to my body, I slide the keycard out of my back pocket.
And as I reach for the handle, the door opens.
A pained smile flashes on Lettie’s tear-stained face. “You should’ve knocked.”
“I didn’t want to make you get out of bed.” I set breakfast on the table as Lettie hobbles back to the bed on her crutches. Instead of divvying out food, I sit beside her on the bed. “What’s wrong?”
She hands me her phone, and I read the message on the screen.
Mom:I checked out of rehab this morning because I don’t really need it. I can quit drinking whenever I want to. I met someone, and he’s great. Not mean like Wes. And we’re moving to Florida. Tell that boy of yours that I said he better treat you right. Talk soon. Love you.
Lettie hasn’t responded, and I can’t blame her.
I drop the phone on the bed and hug Lettie. Minutes tick by as we hold each other.
Then she pulls back. “Let’s eat. I’m starved.”
“You okay?” I thread my fingers through her hair.
“Yeah. You’re here, so I am. Hazy, with you, I’m good.” Her phone buzzes, and she glances at the screen.
The laugh that bubbles out of her warms my heart, and I look over to see.
Layla:OMG! THE BOYFRIEND TRAP WORKED! But the fire was a bit extreme.
The wink at the end makes it clear she’s teasing. It’s easy to see what Lettie likes about Layla.
I walk over to the bag and pull out our tacos. “Tell me more about this boyfriend trap.”
Lettie laughs again. “That explanation will involve watching a movie. And currently, neither of us have a couch.”
“I can probably chase everyone out of the game room one night.” I hand her tacos and coffee. “Or maybe, if it’s kid-friendly, we’ll invite Mason to join us. You’ll like that kid.”
“Definitely kid-friendly. And I can’t wait to meet him. Dag says he gives great relationship advice.”
“He does. For sure.”
* * *
Lettie isquiet as I turn out of the hotel parking lot. I hate not being able to fix everything for her, but it’s been this way the whole time I’ve known her. Lettie lost more than her dad when he died, and in many ways, she had it rougher than I did.
For all her faults, my grandmother was stable. She didn’t drink herself into a stupor every night. Or ever. I’m thankful for the stability, but it’ll take some work to forgive her.
If my grandmother had based her comment on Lettie’s mom and the trouble she seemed to end up in all the time, I’d be more understanding. But making it about Lettie’s skin color stirs a rage inside me. How could she find fault with something I love about Lettie?
When we’re a few miles out of town, Lettie reaches for my hand. “I thought I’d be choosing a wedding date based on when my mom got out of rehab. Because it felt wrong to exclude her if she was trying to get better.” She looks out the window and sighs. “But she isn’t trying to get better. So, there’s no reason to wait.”