The Wave.”
The title girlfriend still makes me smile like a lunatic.
“The Wave?”
“The Light Train. We’re going to head to the beach and see more of Seattle.”
“Is that code for hypothermia?”
He laughs. “The locals all advise dressing in layers.”
“Why are we taking the Train?”
He shrugs. “I’ve never done it before.”
I consider another one of the hundred questions and objections that constantly form each time Arlo proposes a new idea, but this time I don’t voice any of them. He’s still working to make me love this city, though truth be told, I fell in love with it around the same time I fell for him. But like our relationship, he works to ensure my love grows and expands.
The scent of something burning is carried into the room and has my thoughts of pulling Arlo back into bed, come to an abrupt pause. “Did you leave a pan on the stove?”
Arlo’s eyes grow round, and he turns around. I follow him out to the kitchen where smoke is escaping from the oven in slender trails.
“I’ve got it,” I say, grabbing a hot pad and pulling the oven door open. A cloud of smoke escapes, making us both cough.
“I can’t believe it’s not burnt,” I say, pulling out the cookie sheet covered in bacon. Arlo shoves open the window in the living room.
The tray is overfilled, grease leaking to the bottom of the oven, but miraculously, the bacon is cooked to perfection.
“Maybe your bad luck is over?” I say.
Arlo flashes a grin. Over the past couple of months, I’ve begun meeting Miriam more regularly. The woman we thought was a crazy old bat with voodoo power turned out to be well known for a wide variety of teas, spices, and herbs that many use for medicinal purposes—none of which include curses or fortune-telling. Dad had lied about her being a fraud, and she had lied about the curse—explaining the entire thing was a sham. Arlo had been too intoxicated to remember what she’d even said. She went on to tell us that she believes Arlo formed his own bad luck as an excuse to be around me.
We don’t talk about Ellen very often. Our visits are generally spent with a deck of cards—playing cards, that is. The woman is a poker shark and loves to play and teach me different versions of the game, claiming my talents for math actually came from her. She’s not the cookies and milk kind of grandma that meemaw is, yet I’m enjoying getting to know her better, and she’s the only person I know who can make Arlo flinch with a single look.
Arlo stalks toward me, that same delicious hunger in his eyes, the one that makes my knees weak and my heart race. “We both know she cursed me, and because you’re blood, you were able to reverse it.”
I laugh outright, threading my arms around his neck. “Maybe you should be the writer? You have quite the imagination.”
He shakes his head, his fingers kneading into my waist. “Whitney’s going to let me jog tomorrow.”
“Already?”
He nods. “Hulk, Thor, Arlo—superhero, baby.”
My laughter grows until he silences me with a kiss that makes my toes curl, and my concerns for missing classes today disappear.
He leaves me with a soft kiss before pulling out a chair for me at the kitchen table.
“What did you call this train thing?” I ask as Arlo places a plate filled with scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and sliced cantaloupe in front of me.
“The Wave,” he says.
“And where are we taking it?”
“It’s sixty-eight degrees today. We’re going to the beach.”
I laugh so hard tears form in my eyes. “That’s not beach weather.”
“Today it is.”
“Are you sure about this? Football and everything, I mean.”
“I’ve missed one practice in three years. I’m positive.”
“Okay.”
He nods, a smile tugging at his lips. “Okay.”
While Arlo gets ready, I sit on my bed and grab my phone to make a call I’ve been meaning to make for weeks.
“Hey, it’s me. I’m sorry about everything. I know it must have been terrifying to hold that secret as long as you did. I just want to let you know, I love you, and I will always choose you. No matter what.
“Ellen called. I might go see her next week. I want to let you know it won’t change anything—she doesn’t change anything. You’re my mom, and you’ll always be my mom.
Arlo’s going to go with me. He’s great, Mom. You’d adore him. I was thinking of trying to make your famous lasagna for him.”