Life's Too Short (The Friend Zone #3)(51)

I blew air through pursed lips. “Yeah, I can see that.” I peered up at him. “It’s kind of romantic though. That they circled back to each other.”

He stared at me.

“What?”

His jaw twitched. “You sound like Mom.”

I shrugged. “Well, it’s true. People fuck up. And it sounds like he realized it. Maybe they were soul mates and neither of them ever found that same happiness with anyone else.”

“I don’t believe in soul mates,” he said, his tone clipped.

I scoffed. “Well, Dad doesn’t believe in expiration dates, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”

He barked out a dry laugh.

“Is your mom happy?” I asked.

He looked at the windshield and nodded reluctantly. “Yes. I guess she is.”

I shrugged again. “Good. You should forgive him.”

His head snapped back to me. “What?”

“Why not? I mean, you don’t have to like him. You don’t have to trust him or forget what he did or follow him on Facebook. But he’s in your mom’s life now and holding on to this vendetta is only going to hurt her and your grandmother. I mean, you won’t even go see them for Christmas? Why? Because he’s there? Fuck him. Go see your family.”

He blinked at me.

I shook my head. “Wow. Somebody in this car never had to ignore their drunk misogynistic uncle at Thanksgiving, and it really shows.” I pivoted in my seat to look at him head-on. “Adrian. Hate is exhausting. Life is too short to hate. Let it go. And while you’re at it, it might help you to try to see him as a whole person who isn’t all black or white. You know, he can be your dad who loves you and your mom, and someone who did something really crappy to hurt you guys once. He can be both.”

I watched some sort of internal struggle move across his face. “So just…what? Show up for Christmas?”

“Yeah. Why not? I’ll go with you if you want. If it sucks, we’ll leave.”

He wrinkled his forehead. “You’ll come?”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

He nodded at the house. “What about your dad? Won’t he be alone for Christmas if you’re not here?”

I waved him off. “Let Brent tap in. I’ll go see him Christmas Eve. I’ll take him to Denny’s or something for breakfast. He’ll be thrilled. We can leave after that and make it to Nebraska for dinner.”

“You wouldn’t mind spending Christmas with me?”

“I was gonna spend it with you anyway.”

The corner of his lip twitched.

He peered at me for a long moment. “Okay.” He nodded. “All right. I’ll go, I’ll try it.”

There was something instantly softer about his face. Like deep inside he wanted permission to let this go, but he couldn’t give it to himself.

Adrian didn’t change gears very quickly, I realized. That was part of what made him great. His devotion to the people he cared about was unwavering. It made him steady and reliable. But it also made him inflexible and prone to hang on to things that weren’t good for him for much longer than he should.

“You know, maybe you should talk to someone,” I said. “A good therapist could help you work through some of this stuff.”

He shook his head. “Mom went to therapy for years, and it never seemed to make anything better.”

“How do you know it never made anything better? Maybe without it she would have been a million times worse.”

He didn’t answer.

“Anyway, this’ll be fun,” I said. “We should pick out an audiobook to listen to on the ride. Stop at the gas station and get, like, a million snacks.”

He smiled at me.

I was actually excited to go to Nebraska. I was over here hoping his mom’s house only had one guest bed and we’d have to share.

Then the corners of my lips fell the slightest bit.

He wouldn’t always be single. And when he wasn’t, I wouldn’t be going with him anywhere. Probably ever. He’d have a girlfriend for that.

What if he started dating again?

This thought killed me. What if he went full man-whore in a delayed Rachel-induced breakup death spiral? Would I be there in my dinky apartment listening to him bang other women through the wall?

The thought broke my heart a little. It was so dumb, but I felt betrayed even thinking about it. It felt like cheating.

I couldn’t imagine him being someone else’s. I knew technically he wasn’t mine. But in practice he was. Not in all the ways that mattered. Not in enough ways to be enough. But he was mine.

At least for now.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking slightly worried. “Your face just got serious.”

“If I’m still alive and you’re single on my thirtieth birthday, will you marry me?”

He laughed. “What?”

“Will you enter into a marriage pact with me? One year from now, you and I tie the knot if you’re single and I’m still alive. We can be one of those Pinterest couples who wears matching flannels and goes to a pumpkin patch to take that engagement photo where we both jump at the same time.”

He looked amused. “First of all, you will be alive. Second of all, we both know you don’t jump.”