Broken Course (Wrecked and Ruined #3)(45)

"Oh for f*ck’s sake," he responds, pulling a sip off his beer.

We all start laughing and fall into a casual conversation.

"What you drinking, ángel?" I ask Sarah, who is involved in a very animated discussion about her boss with Emma.

"Um. I don’t know." She toys with her bottom lip and glances up to Caleb.

He stands there for a moment before quirking an eyebrow. "What?" he asks, clearly confused.

"I was thinking about maybe having a glass of wine," she replies nervously, causing Emma to let out an excited squeak through tight lips.

"Jesus, Sarah. Yeah, of course. Come on. Let me buy it for you." Caleb turns to the bar.

"No, you don’t have to do that. I just… I don’t know…" she trails off, wrapping her arm tight around my waist.

"It’s fine. I swear. Come on. My treat."

"Yeah, okay." She smiles weakly and looks up at me.

My only answer is to give her a wink and squeeze her tight into my side. But that’s all it takes with Sarah. She lets out a sigh and her tense posture disappears from the simple gesture.

The bartender places a round in front of Caleb, who passes them out. Lastly, he hands a wine glass to Sarah and smiles pridefully.

"Pinot Grigio, if I recall correctly."

"Chardonnay, actually. But this will work," she laughs, taking the glass from his hands.

Emma and Sarah do a ridiculous toast, and Caleb and I clink beer bottles while simultaneously rolling our eyes at them.

A few minutes later, I hear a familiar voice from the door. "This place is cute!"

I spin to find Erica walking in, dragging Slate behind her.

"Hi," she says, waddling her way over to us.

I haven’t seen her in weeks, and her stomach has definitely grown quite a bit over that time. Erica is a very small woman, so maybe getting pregnant with Slate’s sure-to-be huge son wasn’t her smartest decision. The smile on her face says otherwise though.

"Hey, babe." I pull her into a one-armed hug, never releasing Sarah. Then I turn my attention to Slate and give him a quick nod. "What’s up, man?"

"Sorry we’re late. We had to make a quick stop to look at a crib. However, that turned into looking at baby bedding, which turned into looking at car seats, which turned into buying half the baby store. Which is currently about to turn into me chugging half a gallon of beer."

"Oh shut up! You loved it," Erica laughs.

"Wow. I am terribly happy I missed that," I say sarcastically.

"You shut it, too," she mumbles, looking over at Slate, who is silently laughing.

"Hi," I hear Sarah greet Erica.

"Oh, sorry. Mom, Dad, this is my girlfriend, Sarah Erickson, and her parents, Emma and Caleb Jones."

"Stop." Sarah slaps my chest.

"Why? This is exactly that awkward step in every relationship where your parents meet the future in-laws," I joke before I really think it through.

Sarah’s big, blue eye bounce to mine, and she looks almost embarrassed for a second as her cheeks heat to pink. She swallows before glancing over at Emma, who might as well be glowing.

I didn’t mean to insinuate marriage, love, or even a future to Sarah. Although I’m not sorry I said it. I mean, who the hell knows if this will end up working out, but I’ve dared to dream that it will.

I’ve had many conversations in my head where I tell Sarah that I know about her past. Some days, in my alternate universe, she’s relieved that I know, and others, she gets pissed—but only slightly. She’s always rational and talks everything through then cuddles up next to me and listens to me explain my past as well. She’s more than just accepting—she’s unfazed. Then we get to be together without the secrets shrouding us and guilty consciences weighing us down.

So maybe I’ve done more than just dare to dream. Maybe I’ve plotted it out completely and, in a sense, set myself up for nothing but heartbreak. It’s hard not to, though, when I’m this happy. I’ve figured out over the years that, for me, happiness isn’t centered on another person. It’s molded and shaped around moments and experiences that leave you breathless. However, suddenly and without warning, my happiness begins and ends with Sarah. It’s exhilarating and distressing all at the same time.

I stand casually at the bar of the small restaurant with Sarah tucked under my arm and everything feels right—even all the way down to a very fundamental level. I know it’s not perfect, but for the first time in over four years, I can actually hope that it will be eventually. Erica, Sarah, and Emma are huddled together, chatting about pregnancy and babies, and Caleb and Slate are lost in conversation about boxing and some of the up-and-comers from the gym in Indianapolis. I pull a sip off my beer and revel in the peace and quiet inside my own head.

"You okay?" Sarah looks up at me with a warm smile.

"I’m perfect, mi cielo."

"Mi cielo? That’s new." Her smile grows.

"Heaven," I answer on a whisper, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. "Cuando la verdad salga, no se donde esto nos dejara. Pero aqui contigo es como yo imagino deber ser el cielo." (I don’t know where this is going to leave us when the truth comes out. But here with you will always be what I envision heaven to be.)