The Resurrection of Wildflowers (Wildflower #2)(83)

Her words touch my heart. Over her shoulder, Thayer meets my eyes with a small, almost shy smile. He’s been nervous about this, I think because he knew I was feeling that way. Meeting the parents is always an awkward affair.

Seda is next door at Caleb’s house. The three of us decided it would be best for her to meet her grandparents and uncle tomorrow. Seda is smart, kind, and understanding but this is overwhelming for a girl her age so while we explained they were coming to her, and how they’re related, we figured we’d let everyone get settled tonight and introduce her tomorrow.

It’s been surprisingly easy, adjusting to parenting with three of us, and it’s actually been nice, and good for Seda, having Caleb next door most weekends.

I thought things might get weird, but they haven’t, and while things haven’t worked out with the one woman Caleb was seeing, he’s been dating and is happy. That’s all I want for him.

“Come inside,” I tell Elaine. “I’m sure you guys want to rest, and dinner is almost ready.”

“That would be nice. Laith drives like a maniac. He shaved five years off whatever is left of my life.”

“Mom!” Laith yells, having heard her. “Don’t say that. I did no such thing.”

She purses her lips, shaking her head. “He did. Too much time with that motorcycle of his and now he doesn’t know how to drive a proper car.”

“A proper car?” He argues, coming up the porch stairs. “That is a minivan, tell me why you and Dad need a minivan.”

“Well, son,” their dad says, walking up to join us, “there’s more room in the back if you catch what I’m saying.”

Behind him, Thayer shakes his head, trying not to laugh. Laith’s eyes widen in horror and he gags.

“Fuck, Dad, don’t say that shit around me. Gross.”

Ignoring Laith, their dad, Douglas, comes up to me, opening his arms for a hug. “Hi, Salem. It’s so nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you as well.”

We lead everybody inside and let them get settled in the guest bedrooms. While they're resting up, Thayer and I finish dinner. We decided to make lasagna since that was simple enough and put it in the oven earlier. He turns the oven light on, checking on the progress.

“It should be ready in about thirty minutes.”

“Perfect.” I put the finishing touches on the homemade garlic bread we’ll pop in the oven just before the lasagna is finished cooking.

Thayer pushes a button, turning on the music speaker. A Taylor Swift song comes on from my playlist.

“What are you doing?” I ask, fighting a smile as he closes the distance between us.

“I want to dance with my wife. Can’t I do that?”

I don’t answer him, not with words anyway. I let him take me into his arms, slowly twirling me through the kitchen. As a little girl, I used to wonder if true love existed between a man and woman. My parents certainly weren’t a good example. My father craved power, control. He didn’t love my mom, or care about her. To him, she and by extension my sister and me, were a part of an image he wanted to cultivate in the public of being a family man.

It was all a lie.

Behind closed doors he was a monster in more ways than one.

To this day, I’m glad he’s gone.

I’ve never shed a single tear for him, but I have shed tears for the little girl I was, who should’ve had a dad who loved and cared for her. Who protected her and showed her how a man treats a woman. Sometimes, that little girl doesn’t even feel like me. To survive what I did, I had to separate myself mentally from my past. I don’t know if that’s how it is for everyone, but that was my coping mechanism.

I feel blessed, that as a teenager, I met Caleb. He was kind, caring—my best friend. He treated me the way every guy should treat a girl. Then I met Thayer too.

I’ve had two good men in my life to prove to me that they’re not all like my father.

I know not everyone’s story plays out like mine.

Thayer continues to sway us to the song, and I lay my head against his chest, listening to the steady pounding of his heart against my ear.

I love this man.

And I’m thankful every day the universe sent him my way.

He turns us again and I find his parents standing in the entry way to the kitchen, watching us. Each has a wistful expression. I’m sure after Thayer’s divorce, and Forrest’s passing, their worry for their son was beyond what I can imagine.

Sometimes, when you’re in the midst of tragedy—of heartbreak—it can be impossible to see the other side. It’s like you’re drowning beneath the weight of your emotions, memories, your very thoughts, but if you just keep going, keep swimming, then eventually you make it to shore. You’re tired, but stronger, and look at yourself in a new light. I think it’s our tendency to doubt ourselves, to think we’re weaker than what we are, but there’s more in all of us than we realize.

I rest my chin on Thayer’s chest, looking up at him with all the love I used to think I would never be capable of. Closing my eyes, I rest my head on his chest once more.

I made it.





“My son,” Elaine begins, whispering quietly so Thayer won’t hear, “he’s different with you. It’s beautiful to see.”