“Which was?”
He sighed. “You probably know as much as I do. And don’t get any ideas in that pretty little head of yours. We can’t solve the whole world’s problems.”
I couldn’t hide the disappointment that registered upon my face. “Why not? I’m working on ours right now.”
He snorted. “That will take years. And if they are meant to be together, they need to find their own way back to each other.”
“A little push in the right direction never hurt anyone,” I pouted.
He grinned. “What will hurt me is if I don’t get something to eat pretty soon. Do you have any food at your place?”
I nodded and it was decided where we’d be spending the evening. We climbed into our respective cars and took off towards my house.
As I drove home, my own happiness over being done with the Jeff fiasco was tempered by the sorrow of those around me. I should be high on the sheer adrenaline of confronting, from afar, someone who’d caused me a great deal of stress lately. I knew Matthew’s words rang true; I believed them totally in our own case. If things were meant to work out, they’d do so with or without my interference. My intentions were good – I wanted to fix what was broken, I wanted to repair things that had happened in the past.
Life would be so much easier if everyone was happy.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Happy birthday, gorgeous.”
My eyelids fluttered open at the sound of Matthew’s voice. Early morning sunshine streamed through the window of his bedroom. I squinted at the brightness.
“What time is it?” I asked, my voice still husky from slumber.
“Early,” he admitted.
“Then what are you doing up already?”
He lifted his head from its position on my chest, pulling away from me slightly to prop himself up on one arm. “Watching you sleep. Waiting to give you your present. Be glad I didn’t wake you at midnight.”
I laughed as I drank him in. His hair was extra unruly this morning, sticking up in random tufts, a strand or two threatening to fall into his pool blue eyes. Those eyes were fixed upon me, taking me in as if I was equally as beautiful. He grinned at me sheepishly as though he was embarrassed to be making such a big deal out of today.
I reached out to touch his face, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. The stubble on his chin tickled my skin. I wondered if it would be too much to ask him not to shave today; I was liking the scruffy look. But only if he’d ditch the contacts and wear his glasses, too.
“I already have the best birthday present ever,” I said softly.
He raised an eyebrow in question.
“I have you,” I finished, raising myself up to give him a kiss.
Approximately half an hour later, we decided it was truly time to get out of bed and get ready. It was going to be a busy day today – in a good way. This year, my birthday had landed on a Saturday so we’d made plans to head down to Indianapolis to celebrate with Dad and Gracie. It would be Matthew’s first visit to Indy with me and as such our first in person event with them as boyfriend and girlfriend. Given Matthew’s familiarity with my hometown contingent there was no need for nervousness, but the occasion was symbolic nonetheless.
He showered first, knowing by now that I would gladly use up the rest of the hot water. As if he’d read my mind, he left the facial hair intact. I also heard him open the medicine cabinet and pull out his glasses. Maybe I’d voiced my preferences a few times.
By the time I’d drained the hot water heater and stepped out of the shower, he’d left the bedroom. I hoped he’d gone to the kitchen in search of coffee. We now kept the fridge and pantries at both our places semi well-stocked, but there was always doubt on what we had where. Coffee was a staple wherever we were, but it had been awhile since we’d been grocery shopping.
We’d settled into an easy arrangement of domestic bliss. My clothes now took up roughly half of his closet, my beauty products littered his vanity. When we were here, I parked my car in the garage. It was pretty much likewise at my place. He had a couple drawers in my dresser and the Mustang nested overnight in my garage next to the Sonata. Maybe it was unorthodox to bounce between two houses but it seemed to suit us just fine.
We were basically living together without the whole debate as to who gave up what. I knew that if I had to choose I’d pick his home, but I wasn’t ready to put my house up for sale yet. And he wasn’t pushing me to, which I appreciated immensely. I didn’t want to swallow my pride and admit that I’d made a hasty decision to buy instead of rent. If I’d just moved into an apartment seven months ago instead of holding out for a house, I wouldn’t have had the problem.
But the true moral of the story was that we hadn’t slept alone since that night he’d taken me out to dinner and followed me back home. That may or may not have had anything to do with my reluctance to put the house on the market. Every time I walked down the hallway I was reminded of our reconciliation and that was kind of hot.
I towel dried my hair and threw on a sundress, eager to see where Matthew was. Getting ready the rest of the way could wait. Since we’d gotten up so early, we still had a couple of hours to kill before we had to leave. Dad wasn’t expecting us at his house until somewhere between noon and one. We’d set the time to accommodate Gracie, who didn’t alter her sleep schedule for anyone anywhere. Especially now that I was deservedly off of suicide watch, her Saturday mornings were spent counting sheep.
Matthew was in the kitchen, a fresh pot of coffee brewing beside him. If possible, it made me love him even more. He motioned to a bowl of cereal placed on the concrete countertop. “I made you breakfast,” he said proudly.
“Oh, wow,” I said with mock enthusiasm, “whatever did I do to deserve the royal treatment?”
“It’s not every day that one turns twenty-seven,” he said with a grin, “at one point, I’m pretty sure I was that age. Seems like it was uneventful, though, because we hadn’t met yet.”
I blushed. He always knew what to say to make me feel like I was the most special person on the planet. I doubted I would ever get used to the feeling – my racing heart confirmed that – but I would eat it up anyway.
“Hurry up,” he urged as I leisurely ate my cereal, “you need to get ready.”
My eyes narrowed as I studied him. “Why?” I asked warily.
“Cause Blake’s coming over in a little bit to give you your gift,” he said as if I should have figured it out myself.
“You mean she’s not over at my house redecorating the whole thing from top to bottom?” I cracked, remembering her penchant for design related presents.
He pretended to be insulted. “Well, now you just ruined Christmas.”
I snorted, almost causing milk to come out of my nose. That would have been classic and also disgusting at the same time. Fortunately, he didn’t notice anything amiss and the crisis was averted.
“I thought you couldn’t wait to give me your gift,” I said upon recovery.
“Oh, yes, that,” he said, clearly in his element. He pulled a small, expertly wrapped box from the drawer in the center island and slid it over to me. When I stared at it, he prompted me to open it. “I hope you like it.”
My hands shook as I unwrapped it. I peeled the paper off, not wanting to tear into it like an anxious child. I loved presents; it didn’t matter if I was on the giving or receiving end. And I was certain that whatever it was, I would absolutely love it because it had come from him.
He didn’t disappoint. Nestled inside the box was a pair of princess cut diamond stud earrings. My untrained eye knew they were a substantial carat weight and they sparkled brilliantly in the sunlight.
“They’re beautiful,” I whispered, “thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I know you gave Eric back most of your jewelry collection.”
“So you noticed?” I asked, surprised at how perceptive he was.
“We’ll just have to rebuild it piece by piece. I thought we’d sta
rt with those since they’ll go with everything.”
“I love them,” I said, still turning the box and watching as the light hit them. “I’ll go put them in right now.”
My breakfast was finished anyway and with the realization that Blake would be over at any minute, I hurried back to the master bathroom to finish my hair and makeup. Regretfully my hair wasn’t yet long enough for a ponytail or I’d have worn it up to show off my new earrings. I had to settle for pulling it away from my face with a wide headband. It was practically dry now and I let it remain in its natural state, slightly wavy. I focused the bulk of my attention towards my makeup; lining my eyes so they stood out and settling for a pale pink lip gloss.
Once I was pleased with my reflection, I rejoined Matthew who had now situated himself on the couch in the living room. His sister hadn’t shown up yet. I was glad that I hadn’t kept them waiting. I’d barely sat down beside him on the sofa when the front door opened and she walked in, carrying a medium sized gift bag.
“Happy birthday, Lauren,” she greeted me, rushing over to give me a hug. “You look amazing.”
“Thanks,” I said as we pulled apart.
As was her normal routine, she also engulfed her brother in an embrace. For someone who was so guarded with her other emotions, she was surprisingly demonstrative with her affection. “Hey, dork.”
“Morning, sunshine.” He scooted over on the couch to make room for her and she plopped down between us.
“So let’s see these earrings,” she said, turning to me. I modeled them for her dutifully. “I about died when he said he’d gone without me to get them for you. I could just imagine him coming back with something hideous.”
“They’re earrings, Blake,” he reminded her with feigned exasperation, “diamond earrings. How could I have gone wrong?”
She rolled her eyes at me. “Trust me, you could have. But I see that I had nothing to fear. You’re not as clueless as I thought.”
Their good natured ribbing of one another never grew old. I could sit and listen to them banter back and forth for hours. At times like this, it was easy to pretend that we hadn’t spent months apart. The three of us acted like we had been together for years. We were again every bit as close as the picture taken on Thanksgiving that sat on my desk at work indicated. Once I had accepted that Blake was the type to shove her troubles under the rug and act like they’d never existed, I’d pushed aside trying to repent for my trespasses and had just been grateful that she’d chosen to welcome me back like nothing had happened.
The perfectionist in me would always yearn for some sort of closure on that dark chapter in our friendship, but I knew that would never come. I’d told her I was sorry, she’d told me she wasn’t ever mad at me and that had been the end.
She grabbed the gift bag from where she’d placed it on the table and thrust it in my direction. “Here, open it.” She, too, could barely contain her excitement.
It was almost as if I was a new plaything, something exciting that hadn’t been present in their world for far too long. Another person who they could both agree upon liking, that they were nice to and could do normal things with like celebrate birthdays and holidays. It made me ache inside for how empty their lives had been since their parents had unceremoniously disowned them. Even with my own very limited friends and family – read Dad and Gracie, and Eric if we were splitting hairs – I’d always had support. I’d never had to go it alone.
I reached into the bag, plucking out the cloud of tissue paper that rested on top of whatever it was she had given me. I much preferred gift bags to traditionally wrapped things; it all seemed less wasteful and much easier to open. Plus, personally I wrapped like a five year old. I watched her expression as I dug blindly inside. Her eyes were lit up with glee and I imagined that she was on the verge of squeaking. My fingers brushed something hard and I clasped onto it, pulling it out without looking. It was heavy and felt like it was a book or something bound similarly.
“I hope you like it,” she said, rubbing her hands together in anticipation, “I spent a lot of time putting it together.”
I set the bag down on the floor by my feet and placed the present on my lap to give it my full attention. I’d been the recipient of a customized Blake scrapbook. It sort of boggled my mind that someone that looked like that – with her alternative brand of beauty, a cross between a porcelain doll and a punk rocker – would scrapbook, but she did and she was damn good at it. To be honest, I sincerely doubted that she’d come across much that she wasn’t at least passable at doing.
“It’s a story,” she explained before I’d really had a chance to look at it, “read it. I hope you don’t think it’s cheesy.”
I stared down at it in earnest this time. My eyes welled with tears as I saw the cover.
“Aloud,” she prompted, “read it aloud.”
I cleared my throat and blinked rapidly. “Okay. Here goes.” I paused for a sniffle. “Lauren and Matthew. A love story.”
“Oh, no. I made you cry and you haven’t even opened it up. You do think it’s cheesy.”
“No, Blake,” I reassured her as I wiped at my eyes, “I think it’s sweet. And I can tell that I’m going to love it.”
Matthew reached his arm across the back of the couch and squeezed my shoulder nearest him. I wasn’t sure if he knew what was inside, but he’d been given one of her scrapbooks at Christmas last year and it had about had the same effect on him. He’d yet to show me what that one had contained, and I’d forgotten to ask him about it until now. Whatever the case, he understood just how good his sister was at giving meaningful gifts that made you want to curl up and cry like a baby.
I took a deep breath in a fruitless attempt to compose myself and slowly opened the cover. “Once upon a time,” I continued, “in two places place far, far away from each other –“ On the first page was a map of Indiana, with the cities of Indianapolis and Fort Wayne helpfully circled. So she was taking a little creative license here, but I could forgive her.
I turned the page.
“Matthew and Lauren were born.” I stared down at baby pictures of each of us.
“Your dad helped,” Blake interjected.
I nodded, swallowing down the lump in my throat.
“For the longest time,” I continued reading, “they didn’t know about each other.”
I flipped through a couple of pages of pictures showing each of us growing up. Most were taken when we were toddlers, but they all showed us alone. No siblings or parents – we were the stars of the show.
“And they grew up knowing that something was missing.”
Despite now having tears streaming down my face, I couldn’t help but laugh when I turned to the page that had a picture of each of us, maybe three or four years old, throwing a temper tantrum and screaming and crying.
“But they couldn’t figure out what it was.”
Cue the school pictures of us, from kindergarten through senior year.
“So they continued on until one day, everything changed. What happened?”
I turned another page.
“They met each other.”
Back to baby pictures of us, both chubby-cheeked, smiling and clapping. I giggled again.
“Chaos ensued.”
Another page.
“But the planets aligned.”
“And Gracie helped, too.” Blake interrupted.
“Obviously,” I stated dryly as I viewed a picture of the solar system.
I continued reading. “And they fell in love.”
The remaining pictures showed the two of us together in some way, shape or form. I hadn’t realized that so many photographs had been taken of us, but there obviously had been. Some I recognized from before the chaos that had been so eloquently referred to, some after, but the message of all of them was the same. In each and every picture it was breathtakingly clear how much we adored one another. It was obvious by our smiles, by the looks we gave each other, how much in love we were, had
always been. Even from the very beginning.
On the final page of the book was written the words “To be continued.”
I closed the cover gently, running my hand over it reverently. I stared at it blankly as the words blurred amid my tears. There was no point in even wiping them away at this point. I’d undoubtedly have to wash my face and redo my makeup before we headed out. Better just to have a full out cry and get it out of my system.
“Thank you, Blake,” I said between gasps for air, “it’s perfect.”
She sniffled loudly in response. “You’re welcome.” She was still trying to hold on to appearances but her resolve was failing miserably. When I turned and looked at her, her lower lip trembled and the dam broke. I grabbed her hand and and held onto it.
Further on down the couch, Matthew took off his glasses and wiped at his own eyes.
“We are all idiots,” Blake proclaimed, “crying on your birthday like this.”
“As long as they’re happy tears, it’s okay,” I clarified.
We indulged our emotions for a few more minutes. After a while, my tears slowed and it was slightly easier to breathe, though my nose was horribly stuffy. I bounced up from the couch and ran to the bathroom to collect a handful of tissues, which I divided equally between Blake and me.
“Thanks,” she said, taking her allotment. She dabbed at her eyes delicately then quietly blew her nose. Instinctively, her finger raised to her nostril to slide her piercing back into place. I’d seen Blake readjust her stud several times since we’d met; she always handled it like it was second nature. I tried not to stare, but really I had kind of always wondered what happened when someone with a nose piercing had a cold. That must be a real pain.
“You look like hell,” she confirmed.
“So do you,” I replied, though I really didn’t mean it. Even with her eyes red-rimmed and watery, she was still one of the most beautiful people I’d ever known.
She flashed a smile at me.
“Those were happy tears, right?” I asked.
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