part of me believed we’d grown up, grown out of the shit we did to each other when we were in high school. But we didn’t. I don’t think I knew you could love someone you were incompatible with. Or maybe I just thought marriage would fix something. Change something. But I was wrong, and she paid the price. It’s not fair. None of it is fair, and I’ll never be able to make it up to her.”
“No. You and I will be the villains of her story. Nothing will change that. I mean, I was always the villain of her story, but you’ve earned your place next to me.”
“But it’s not just breaking up or disagreeing. She doesn’t understand why I’m not … I don’t know. Freaking out. Or mad at you.”
“Why aren’t you?”
“Mad at you?” A pause. “I don’t think I’m capable of being mad at you.”
I laughed. “Because you’ve never been with me for more than a few months at a time. Admit it—you’re a big, smushy mush who’s built me up in your memory just like I’ve done you. As real as this is, it’s not real at all.” He didn’t look convinced. “Trust me. One day you’re gonna be so mad at me, and I’m gonna tell you I told you so.”
Another beat of silence. “I’ll respectfully disagree. You’re one of the most real things to ever happen to me, Presley.”
I couldn’t look at him—I’d fall apart. “So you’re not freaking out either?”
“Oh, I’m freaking out. Just on the inside.”
I chuckled as I poured the last candle.
“When do you want to do her genetic testing?”
The hair on the back of my neck rose—this wasn’t a conversation I’d been looking forward to. “What would you say if I asked you to wait?”
“For how long?”
“Hear me out,” I started, avoiding his eyes by keeping my hands busy with cleanup. “If she has it—if we know she has it—we are going to live every single day afraid of a maybe, a someday. And if she knows she has it, so will she. She’ll never live a normal life.”
“I need to know, Pres,” he said darkly.
“But do you? I mean, do you really? Are you sure it’s not easier for you to hold onto hope?”
“But if she doesn’t have it—”
“But if she does? It will change everything, and not for the better. And not just for you. But for me and our families and everyone who loves her. And most of all, her.”
“Then we won’t tell her.”
I shook my head. “We can’t keep something like that from her.”
“Sure we can. We’re her parents.”
I abandoned my task and met his eyes. “I don’t want to keep something so serious from her.”
“You kept me from her.”
I flinched at the phrase I’d been dreading from his mouth. “You’re right, but I shouldn’t have. I don’t want to do that again. And I don’t know if I can handle it if she does have the marker.” My voice wavered. “Please, think about letting her decide when she’s older. She’s still a baby. Can we just let her be a kid without this hanging over us?”
“It’s hanging over us whether we have her tested or not,” he noted, but sighed. “Hey,” he started softly, “come here.”
And then I was buried in his chest, locked in his arms.
He kissed the top of my head. “Let’s talk about it. In pieces like this, if it’s easier. I hear you. But I’ve spent nearly ten years thinking about this, dreading it. Building a life to ensure I didn’t have to face this choice. I can’t just let it go.”
“I know.”
He leaned back, held my face in his hands. “And this is why I’m not mad and I’m not freaking out. Because we’re together on this. And there’s nobody else I’d rather be in it with.”
Before I could speak, he kissed me briefly, deeply. I felt the kiss in the dark reaches of my heart, ached for this to be forever, knowing I couldn’t be.
Forever wasn’t in the cards for us.
And maybe that was for the best. We could hang on to the magic of our perfect summers and let them be perfect forever without the trouble of reality. Reality sucked. Reality was a dream crusher and a drag. Nobody liked reality.
So dream world it was.
He smirked down at me. “How long do you think they’ll be gone?”
“Well,” I started, threading my arms around his neck, “If they walk, we’ve got twenty minutes. Factoring in daisy chain making