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

by Kate Watson

Your successes don’t mean anything to them because they’re the failures.”

“I’ve seen you debate people in front of huge crowds, and you were outstanding.” “That’s not the same.” “Exactly. Those people wanted to see you fail. You couldn’t fail in front of us. Don’t you get it?”

“But not everything needs fixing. Sometimes it’s enough just to know your problems are seen.”

She thought I would try to fix her. But she never needed someone to fix her. She needed someone to see her broken pieces and love her anyway.

Because she’s in my arms. We are tangled up together in a sleeping bag very much made for one, and she’s drooling on my shoulder and her hair is down and her face is bare and she’s so gorgeous, I could stare at her all night, if the lantern weren’t almost dead.

I am going to prove to PJ that my love isn’t conditional. And I’m never going to stop.

I wish I were one of those guys who didn’t have to be explicitly told how to act by the woman he loves, but I’m not.

“I’m trying really, really hard to respect your boundaries,” I say. “But all I want is to kiss you until we melt into the core of the earth.”

“Holy moly, Ash, is this all a ploy for you to see my tummy waffles?”

“Either way, you gotta leave the tent. These are not the tummy waffles you’re looking for.”

🤣

The worst of the storm already passed, but there must be six or eight inches on the ground, and it coats the woods behind us like a blanket. Tree limbs are heavy with white. It’s both cloudy and intensely bright, and the look on PJ’s face tells me it’s also absolutely magical to her.

My whole life, they’ve treated me like I was a faulty showpiece they reluctantly put on display and removed when anyone saw the cracks in my façade. They were wrong. I’m not broken. I’m not unlovable. I’m Parker freaking Jane, and I am awesome.

“What did you say?” I ask her. Nonna looks at the empty space on her left ring finger. “If you try to be perfect, you’ll fail on your own. If you try to be whole, you just might succeed together.”

She thinks she schools her features so well, but the micro-expressions that play on her face are as detailed as a symphony. Simple frustration creates a concerto of quivers and contractions that I could spend my whole life studying. Every tiny movement tells a story. Each minuscule quirk hints at a well of deep emotion that could never run dry. She is breathtaking.

She said what I think she said, right? She’s giving me a come hither look, and as much as I want to hither my butt off, I wait.

Be still my heart. She’s making threats to my siblings.

“Do you understand?” I ask softly, my lips feeling swollen. “You wouldn’t think less of me,” he says, smiling and kissing me again. “And I should stop being stupid.”

Lisa pulls me into the tightest, most loving hug a mother could give. I fold into her, and suddenly, Sonny’s dad, siblings, and their spouses are all getting in on it. “That’s our girl,” Lisa says, correcting her son. “We love her, too, you know.”

“Sonny?” Mom repeats. “Oh, sorry, I was obsessing over my girlfriend’s smell,” I say. Mostly because I want to say out loud that PJ is my girlfriend, even if the word is woefully inadequate.

“WHAT?” Anthony and Gabe say in unison. “Already?” Anthony asks. “Why not?” “Because of the money!” Gabe says. “And the endorsements and fame!” “Lauren,” Dad says to Gabe’s wife. “Can you control him?” Lauren nods, patting Gabe’s shoulder. “Babe, it’s not like you’re living in a Dickens novel. Calm down.”

“Look at you, talking football like a legit NFL wife,” Jane says. “She’s not an NFL wife. Duke’s a therapy husband,” Ash says.

I scoop PJ into my lap and kiss her until we are a mess of love and emotion.

Growing up, I thought I’d never find a place where I belonged. I acted like a nomad and a wanderer because it was safer not to care than it was to care and be ripped from a place I loved again. But from the minute I laid eyes on Parker Jane, I knew what home felt like.

“What?” “You’re not going to do a thing? You’re not just type A, you’re type A plus. With extra credit,” Ash says.

“I’m not dancing to this,” Rusty says. “It’s Groove is in the Heart! It’s my jam!” “Then get some peanut butter, because this ain’t for me.” I laugh and tug on his arm. “That was good. Now come!”

But when we reach the dance floor, instead of doing something dumb like the floss, he grabs my hand and pulls me in like it’s a slow dance. “What are you doing?” “You asked me to dance. I don’t … twerk, or whatever. I dance like a man.”

I glance around the room. “Well, you look hot tonight. Too bad Sonny doesn’t have any single cousins for you.” He coughs like he’s being strangled. “I’d rather dance with you.”

“Ash?” Rusty says. Oh yeah. He was trying to get my attention. “Mm-hmm?” “Why are you pinchin’ my abs?”

bahahaha!

“What are you saying?” “I’m sayin’ he’s not wrong. Ask the guys.” I laugh. “You want me to go ask Duke and Tripp if you have nice abs?”