Page 122 of The Situation
I bury my head in my hands as my words ring through my brain.
“So I waited my whole life for the one girl who I want to spend my life with, and then I get told to hang on. She might want to be with you. She might not. She might have your children. She might not.”
There were alternate ways of fixing this besides demanding that I get my way.Why would she even want to marry me if I’m going to be such a dick about it?
“Have you talked to her since she left?” Mimi asks.
I shake my head.
“You should’ve had your ass over there and been on your knees before she got home,” she says. “Didn’t we just have a conversation about this—about showing her what you mean?”
“You’re really mean today.”
“Somebody has to be. Someone must remind you that you can’t be a brat.”
My face pops up to face hers, my eyes wide. “A brat?”
“A brat.” She crosses her frail little arms over her chest. “You can’t always get what you want.”
“I know that, okay? Chill out.”
“No one says that anymore.”
“How do you … Never mind.” I sigh, my face turning red. “I got scared. That’s the truth of it. I felt rejected. I panicked. I’ve been making all of these plans and all I could see was my whole life falling down—because it started with her. And I hurt her in the process.” I hang my head. “Fuck.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“I gotta fix this.”
“Well, right now, there’s a party going on out there, and a bunch of people traveled a long way to see you. Spend some time with them and then stop pussyfooting around and go get your girl.”
I wipe my hands down my jeans. “Thanks, Mimi. I love you.”
“Aw, Tate. I love you, too. But this round of your bullshit about killed me. You owe me one shirtless trip around the neighborhood next week.”
Laughing, I press a kiss to her cheek. “You got it.”
“Close that door behind you. I’m going to take a little nap.”
“Okay.”
I let myself out of Mimi’s cottage and step into the warm sunlight. My eyes scan the crowd, looking for Aurora in the off chance she shows up. But I don’t see her.
I really don’t expect to.
“There’s my boy,” Mom says, pulling me into a hug. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
“Thanks, Mama. I’m glad you came, even if it’s really to see the babies.”
She laughs like I’m kidding.
“You look good,” I say. “You look happy.”
“I am.” She beams. “I really, truly am. And it’s nice to be back home. I miss Nashville.”
There’s a twist in her eye that pulls on my heart. She has too many memories here—both bad and good. She had to give up so much because of Dad.
“Lookie there, Ives.” Ripley stops alongside us, holding Ivy.
