It's Always Sonny (Sweet as Sugar Maple, #3)

by Kate Watson

“You are not a disaster. You’re the brightest light in any room, and that light attracts noxious little bugs.

“You’re a kindness ninja, did you know that?”

You know how things just seem to work out for some people? Those people are jealous of Sonny.

I’ve seen the movies. I’ve read the fairy tales. Heck, I’ve lived the fairy tales. People plot against Snow White. No one messes with the Ice Queen.

Ready for a truth bomb? You can be hard on yourself and treat yourself at the same time. Trust me, I do both simultaneously on the regular.

Does he really still wear that deodorant? And am I really still in his arms? Shoot! I’m still in his arms! I wiggle to break free. And I fall to the ground.

And look at him now. Actually, don’t look at him now. Those eyes are a tractor beam. Avert your gaze! Avert!

To recap, I’ve been talking to Sonny for five minutes with wrinkles, funky hair, puffy eyes, and a wide-open shirt-bra gap.

“Come with me. Let’s go grab breakfast and catch up,” he says, his index finger grazing my hand from my wrist down to my pinky finger. And my heart stops. And I die standing up.

The light in him shines so bright, I can’t help but fly toward it. I’m no better than Ash’s stupid ex or stupid dad. I’m a bug.

I was so sure PJ was it, but our break up was more than an end to a relationship. I felt like I was being evicted. I like this house. It’s so close to perfect. But after having PJ in my arms again, something tells me nothing will ever feel like home except her.

“They’re wrong. If you don’t see that, I look forward to smoking you on our midterm, you cute dummy.”

You can’t be on the receiving end of a lifetime of rejection from your parents and not come away with some baggage. I own the full Louis Vuitton set.

She broke up with me unceremoniously all those years ago. Her reasoning was shoddy then, and I swear, I still feel that same energy pass between us anytime we’re near. It’s not a spark as much as a frisson, a psycho-physiological vibration that our bodies emit in each other’s presence and no one else’s.

The love of my life is here. And I’ll do everything in my power to get her back.

Lisa Luciano doesn’t merely hug. It’s like she opens up part of her heart and fits you into it. She wraps you up so thoroughly, you can’t help but feel better about yourself.

The uncertainty on his face vanishes, replaced by a confidence every bit as alluring and far more familiar. He owns me, and he knows it.

What is it with teens and jackets? Are they embarrassed to be warm? Is Watch Me Get Frostbite and Lose Some Digits a new TikTok challenge?

“Okay,” I say. And she looks at me with wide eyes. “Okay?” she asks. She looks almost disbelieving. “Yeah. If that’s okay?” She laughs. “Yeah. That’s okay.” “Okay.” “Okay,” she says. “I don’t have a clue what’s going on right now.”

But you should have especially known you were loved. They should have told you they loved you so much and so often that you could have blown your house up and you wouldn’t have doubted their love for a second. I hate them for robbing you of that. I hate them.”

There are no barriers to us getting back together. She broke up with me so she wouldn’t get in the way of me playing football. I play football. Ergo, we can and should get back together. Tonight. Now.

The inside has closed, but the mark of the piercing remains. I can still feel a lump in my lobe, too, a permanent reminder that some things may scar over, but they never heal completely.

She’s never cuter than when she’s glaring at me with sleep in her eyes.

Holy moly. This is ingenious. She’s added an element of spontaneity to her structure AND an element of control. No one’s going to want to do an activity that isn’t on the bingo card. And no one will ever throw a family reunion again without this trophy being up for grabs. She’s started a tradition. She’s gamified being a Luciano. “How did you do this?” I ask in awe.

“What did I do now?” “It’s your lats. You can’t just show them off like that.” “I’m wearing a sweatshirt,” I said, smiling while she ran kisses from my chin up to my ear. “Then it’s you. I can’t control myself when you’re around. You’re … you’re like catnip.” “I do love cats.” “Why can’t I control myself when I’m with you?”

Whatever happened then, the reality now is that I could steal a lot of kisses from this woman. I want to—oh, how I want to—but maybe I shouldn’t let myself. Maybe I should show some self-control until Parker Jane is wholly, completely, utterly mine. A light bulb flickers on in my head. That’s it.

Don’t push it, I warn myself. If you want something different with her, then you have to be different.

Things can hurt you. You can choose if you’ll let it control you, I guess. But when you love someone, you give them the power to hurt you. That’s part of the risk, but it’s also what makes the reward so great.”

“You guys are disgusting,” I say. “You’re my heroes.”

“When did you get so ripped? I love it! Are your abs still certifiable tummy waffles?”

I can’t read tells like Duke, but I’m pretty good at sensing emotions, and I’m willing to bet Rusty here feels like an idiot for that noogie, but a lucky one, because at least she’s in his arms.

I’m doing this because I love them. And I’m more afraid of them not loving me than I am of any height.

“She isn’t my girlfriend.” “Not with that stupid attitude, she isn’t,” Aunt Helen says.

I curl my arms around my head, wishing I could shrink into the floor. “I can’t even handle something that a ten-year-old can do! I’m so stupid and pathetic and weak—” “Stop it!” Jane snaps. “You are none of those things! Those are lies, and I won’t let anyone lie about my best friend!” Her voice is shaking. “You are smart and strong and brave.”

“I feel so stupid,” I whisper. “You shouldn’t.” Ash says. “I can’t stop myself. How do I just not feel something I feel?” “Feel it all you want. We all feel lots of things that aren’t true,” Lou says. “I feel like cinnamon rolls are the answer to all of life’s problems until I have a stomachache. But you gotta acknowledge the lie at the same time.”

“Or how you didn’t tell me the ex I’ve never gotten over would be running my family’s reunion?” Sonny asks, wearing his feelings as comfortably as a pair of well-worn shoes. The ex I’ve never gotten over. What?

Sonny said he’s never gotten over me, and if that’s the case, his behavior today isn’t about him wanting me gone but about something else.

“You can open your eyes,” I whisper, my cheek pressed against his. “No, it’s okay,” he says. “I don’t need to see you seeing me cry.” “Been there, done that.” When we broke up. He lets out a pained laugh. “Ouch. Too soon.” “It’s been seven years.” “Exactly. You can laugh about it once I’ve recovered.”

😮🥺

His aqua eyes fly open. His gaze cuts through me, and his soft smile stitches me back up. “You’re beautiful.” “You’re crazy.” “The two aren’t mutually exclusive.” He smooths a stray lock of hair. He opens his mouth to say more, but he stops. And then he hugs me again. He keeps his arms wrapped around me, holding me like I’m precious. And he just hugs me. “Thanks for letting me be here,” he finally says. “I’ll see you again whenever you’re ready.”

The pull I feel to Sonny is stronger than gravity. My breakdown was a lot. Letting him be part of putting me back together was even more.

She smiles, and that’s it. That’s all the fuss they make out of it. Well, that wasn’t bad. That was … that was actually nice.

You don’t have to be perfect to be loved, Sonny’s voice echoes in my head. Maybe. But it can’t hurt to try.

I could not want to impress this woman more than I do.

I watch them laugh and I watch how they share their love so freely, all without saying “I love you.” But they show it by engaging. By watching each other. By being together.

Buster barks that famous laugh that earned him his nickname. “Nah, I got money enough. I’m too old and too rich to care about chasing dollar signs.” He sighs, but it’s a sigh of contentment, not one of regret.

“Oh, sis.” Nonna sighs with a familiar weariness I can’t relate to. I’m horrified and furious. I want to find those men and dismantle them.

They go silent for a moment, and I worry the pride and awe bursting from me must have alerted them to my presence. But no, Nonna has given PJ a hug.

“Oh, what’s going to happen? You think someone’s going to faint on a ropes course, or something?” “Nonna!” I groan. “That’s not nice.” “Like she doesn’t know she fainted?” “At least I can fly,” PJ says. Nonna laughs wickedly.

“Are you calling me aggressive?” “Are you going to hurt me if I say yes?”

Heck, if I met him in another life, maybe I’d even be interested. But I met Sonny first. Once you’ve seen the glory of the sun, no other light compares. Even if you’ll go blind looking at it.