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It has nothing to do with college and everything to do with my mom’s new bodyguard: the twenty-four-year-old tattooed know-it-all who can’t know that I’m thinking about him.
“If I spend thirty minutes with Farrow, I’m going to die of Chronic Agitation.”
“Any longer and I’ll need a stretcher and CPR.” I try not to remember that Farrow graduated from Yale medical school. He’s a doctor. He can perform CPR on me. Mouth-to-mouth—stop thinking.
I can’t shake Farrow, and it’s not just that I’m physically attracted to him. Every time I’ve been knocked down lately, he’s appeared…and I wanted him to stay.
I couldn’t forget his words that night. My brain is too obsessed with him, but I don’t want to admit to Farrow that I remember everything. Down to how he stacked beer cans in his hand and walked backwards while talking to me.
I’m going to marry the love of my life. One day. Someday. Soon.
“But here’s the thing, as long as you’re there with me, wolf scout, it’s impossible for our wedding day not to be perfect.”
“I dreamed of a winter wedding. The snow, the cold. That was one of the things I dreamed up at thirteen—when I didn’t know who I’d marry.” His eyes redden. “But I’m marrying you, and the way you exist in the sun is the purest shit in the world.”
“I want to marry you in the summer, wolf scout.”
“You know me better than any guy ever has. You’re my person.” His chest collapses in a breath. “You know I feel the same.”
His love for his family has always been extremely sexy. And I’m going to be honest here: it makes me want to have kids with him. Badly.
OMG!!!
And I feel one of the purest acts of love when Jane tells us, “I can carry your baby for you. I’d love to be your surrogate if you’d want that.”
“I’ll be honest, I want to see you in a kid the same way you want to see me. But I’m okay with that changing. Just like I’m okay with adopting too, as long as we have at least one biological kid in the future.”
Thatcher is easy to be around, and that’s how I like my friends. More than that, the way he’s staring at Jane—before he turns to me—is what she deserves.
You should know that I can survive in any universe, but I only want to live in the ones with Farrow Redford Keene.
I start to smile thinking about July 9th. “I want to marry you in Capri.” He grins. “Technically, it’ll be Anacapri.” “Still the Island of Capri,”
“There’s only one tattoo I want, one I’d even consider, and it has to do with you.”
Fuck, he’s my entire world, and I’ve vowed to protect him, even on the days where he says he can protect himself.
When I was born, my parents weren’t ready to be parents. I was an accident that surprised them at a shitty time in their lives, and they needed a lot of fucking support. Most came from family, and they provided this unconditional, pure love. Giving that to someone else feels right.
“Aristotle says there are three types of friendships. Friends for usefulness. Friends for pleasure. And then there’s true friendship. Friends that do things in pursuit of good for each other. Not for any other reason.” I take a deeper breath. “You don’t even hesitate for Donnelly. It’s just something you need to do for him, and I get that. Because if it were Janie, I’d need to do it too. And you wouldn’t stop me.”
I don’t know who I’m smiling at anymore. Farrow, or Farrow holding the baby, or just the baby—let’s go with just the baby.
This little guy has been in our lives for less than 48-hours, and my family already went overboard. I swear my dad gave us every item in stock. And my Aunt Rose brought over the whole new Calloway Couture Babies summer collection.
“Ripley,” I say into a smile. “It fits him.”
“My mom and dad raised me to fight the demons that they weren’t raised to fight. I’m strong because of my parents, and maybe that’s the point. They broke the cycle, and now I’m here to fight for him.”
“I love you, sis.” Luna smiled. “Love you to planet Thebula and back.”
“She wanted fine-line black and white so she could color it in with marker whenever.” He widens his eyes at me, and I read that look. He’s basically tattooing the outline for a permanent coloring book. It can help with anxiety.
When he embraces me, my dad pats my back for an extended beat, and we hold on longer while he whispers, “I love you, bud, and I’m grateful for you every goddamn day. And I can’t wait to see you marry the man of your dreams.” It’s a phrase that stays with me. Man of your dreams.
He just did what felt right in the moment, and he constantly reminds me that life is better lived not obsessing.
“It’s art. Art has the power to move people in different ways.” He lifts his brows. “You were moved, wolf scout.”
“All things must come to an end, and as much as I wished Gotham could be immortal, life isn’t infinite. But love is, and we loved him.” I take a beat. “And we’ll still love him.” My dad nods. “Yeah, we will.”
“Nana, the dog in Peter Pan that’s hired to take care of the Darlings, is said to be a Newfoundland.” Realization washes over him. “And your family has a thing for Peter Pan.”
“Newfoundlands can weigh up to two-hundred pounds, man.” “That’s not a problem,” he says easily. “Are they good with kids?” “Yes!” everyone shouts. Jesus. I’m smiling. “Yeah.” “Sounds perfect.” He raises his brows up and down in a wave. “Let’s get a dog, wolf scout.”
Ripley is somehow awake. And he’s in heaven, giggling and catching onto brown fur as the puppy licks his cheek. That’s when I know we made the right choice. And I feel a lot like my dad. So I find myself next to him near the kitchen doorway.
“Kinney has Salem. Xander has Erebor. Luna has Orion. And Farrow and I named ours Arkham, after—” “Arkham Asylum.” A location in Gotham City. I wanted to pay homage to my Basset Hound, in some way, and Farrow came up with the name after flipping through some DC comics.
I laugh, and the noise fades as my smile grows. My dad and I watch my son and my soon-to-be husband. Farrow is video-recording Ripley as he hugs onto Arkham. I want this to last. I want him forever. I feel guilty for wishing it, and I almost drop my head. My dad has a hand on my shoulder and softly says, “It’ll be okay, bud.”
We talked about giving him a comic-book themed room. But Ripley doesn’t gravitate towards Batman action figures or the Spider-Man plushies. Sometimes Wolverine, but he’s more obsessed with the damn parrot with the eye-patch. He chose this. And I haven’t told Farrow, but I love that the whole pirate theme reminds me of him and his sparrow and skull tattoos.
We’re together. Intimately, territorially, domestically, and lovingly.
We just sway, and I hold the back of his head. Happiness is easy with him. And I might appear okay with whatever comes in my life, but there is nothing more I’ve wanted than this. Than for a man to love me like Maximoff Hale does. It’s unreal. He leans back, tears cresting both of our eyes. His chest rises. “That’s the song.” Of course I love Collective Soul and that song, but I almost laugh. “It’s a 90s band.” “I don’t care.” I smile. “Okay.”
Don’t turn into a maple tree. Do not turn into a goddamn maple tree. My mom loves mantras, and I think this is my pre-ceremony one.
He taught me that fatherhood is more than daily chitchats and brief insignificant check-ins. It’s about what he never gave me. Love without reason. And through my actions, my child will know that he’s a top priority to me, for no reason but love.
“So I never had a chance to really know my mom.” She nods firmly, listening carefully. “And I like to think she would’ve loved me like you do. No stipulations, no requirements. Just because I exist.” My eyes burn. Lily wipes at tears in her watery gaze and nods me on. “I admire you, and I think you’ve raised strong as hell children, just like you are. They’re extremely lucky to have you as a mom.” I get choked up and clear my throat. “You’re my son too,” Lily suddenly professes, tears streaming down her round face. “You know that, right, Farrow? You’re a part of this family forever.” Fuck. I
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“I know you have a giant, overwhelming thing for my hair this color.” Yeah. But he has no idea why—no idea that the first time we met, he had black hair and that my brain has tied a neat ribbon around the memory and planted lipstick kisses all over the damn thing.
You’re never going to be the reason I relapse.” He’s said those words before, but today they travel through me. Soaking into my bloodstream. My eyes fall to Ripley, the little guy against my chest. My son. The responsibility I feel for him is immeasurable, and I’ve tried all my life to take that responsibility off my parents. To unburden them. I hope when I grow old and my son grows old, he still turns to me. That he never feels like I won’t or can’t help him, and I feel like I’ve made a mistake somewhere with my own dad.
“I need you. Not just right now, not just yesterday—but long after this week, after I’m married. In ten years. Twenty. When you’re an old man, I’m still going to need you.” “Moffy—” “You’re my dad,” I say, choked. “And I don’t want my kids to grow up with you as a memory like I have of my grandfather. I need you here—and I promise that I’ll tell you shit from now on, if you promise you won’t ever see me as someone you can push away. Because I might have other people, but no one in the whole universe—in every fucking universe—could ever replace you from my life.”
There are reasons why Maximoff says his parents are the strongest people he knows. Why he believes in them endlessly and faithfully. Every time they’re kicked down, they crawl to a stance and fight towards courage. And I’m lucky as hell that I can call them my family.
“What are you thinking?” I ask. “This time tomorrow night you’re going to be my husband,” he says. “And it’s strange because I’ve already felt like you are.”
Today is the day. July 9th. The last day that I’m just Farrow Redford Keene. The first day of many that I can call Maximoff my husband.
“You only have one job, bud.” A trademarked dry smile inches across his lips. “Make it to the altar. And lucky for you, if you pass out, I can just carry you there.” I don’t know—I’m smiling. “You’re joking, but it might actually happen, Dad.” A rare warm look crosses his face. “I felt that way, too. It’ll pass once you see him.”
Standing here, today, I feel and know that it’s perfect. It’d be imperfectly perfect under any doomsday. As long as he’s with me.
Christ, everyone is watching us. We’re only watching each other.
