Ace of Hearts, page 19
“If the shoe fits…” He let me in the passenger door first, then hopped in beside me.
As we drove out of city limits, Hesper’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. Ray’s police car still sat in his driveway. The lights were on in the house; he was home. He hadn’t even spent the night in jail. He had probably laughed it off with his pals, you know how kids are, she’s so dramatic, and they’d probably gone out for a beer. My lungs ached. It was hard to breathe past the realization that the world wasn’t fair and some things would never change.
But Hesper had changed.
Though she tensed, her face was determined, unafraid. She smiled over at me.
Things were gonna be okay.
To keep Jackson quiet, she rolled down the windows and let me pick a CD out of the binder she kept under the seat. I found a burned one covered with my handwriting, one I’d made her ages ago, and popped it into the stereo. The swell of guitars and the thumping bass filled Calamity, and to my surprise, Jackson joined us in singing along, practically shouting to be heard over the wind.
Unlike Jasmine, he didn’t give us hugs or wish us luck at the airport. He just got out, waved briefly, and started jogging for the doors.
“Guess we better head that way.” I stretched, enjoying the extra room Jackson had vacated. “Unless there’s something you want to do in St. Louis before we go…?”
“The coupons you made me for Christmas—are they still valid if I can’t present them at the time of purchase?”
I stared at her, confused, her face pale but shining with a tentative smile.
“One of them was for a museum date. Our gala date got interrupted, so I thought—”
“Yes,” I blurted. “The coupon is valid.”
Her hand drifted to the seat between us and I folded my fingers around hers, carefully, loosely so that she could pull away if she wanted. But she didn’t. I rubbed my thumb in slow circles across the back of her hand, and she turned back into traffic, headed for Forest Park. Admission to the museum was free, and as broke teenagers we spent hours there on weekends, sitting on benches and soaking up the history and wonder.
This time was different. Hesper tugged me by the hand as she raced up the stone steps, dwarfed by the enormous pillars and statues on top of them. DEDICATED TO ART AND FREE TO ALL, the entryway proclaimed. We had done this before, but mostly while I played on my phone and she gazed adoringly at impressive artwork. We walked from room to room, hand in hand, and she explained things she’d already told me more than once, but that was okay. That was fine.
“They have the Monet out,” she whispered reverently. “And two Van Goghs—”
“Hesper.”
“—The Stairway at Auvers!”
“Hesper.” This time she turned to look at me, her eyes bright, bruises masked behind makeup Molly had spent the morning applying. She drifted toward the paintings like they had a gravitational pull, but I held on to her hand, anchoring her in my orbit. My palms were sweaty. I didn’t have a ring. This was not how this was supposed to go, but the words wouldn’t stop. “I love you. I’m in love with you. And I want to marry you.”
She held up her hand in confusion, her mother’s wedding band shining in the display lights. “But—”
“For real this time. In sickness and in health. For better or for worse.” I swallowed. “I mean it.”
A few months ago, a few weeks ago, even, she might have paused. She might have listed off on her fingers all the things she thought would turn me away from her. She might have doubted that I meant it.
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes, I will marry you.”
I swept her up into my arms and she laughed, her smile radiant as she threaded her fingers through my hair, and oh, God, I’d tear the tendon in my knee a thousand times if that’s what it took for her to look at me like that.
I’d get her a real ring. We’d have a ceremony and invite her mother and the entire Morlan clan. We’d go on a honeymoon—no expectations, no pushing boundaries, just having adventures and making memories.
And we’d live happily ever after.
Acknowledgements
First and foremost, I have to thank Avalynne Lewis, my lifelong partner in crime, best friend, and alpha reader. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Avi; you make the world a better place and I’m so glad you’re in it. I’d also like to thank Tara Garrett, Debbie Burrow, Catherine Bakewell, Erin Elizabeth Grammar, Kayla Martin-Gant, Bronwen Write and Kirsten Maier, who always believed in me more than I believed in myself. A special thank you to Anna Stein, My Person.
Extra shout-out to my beloved book-Twitter friends and beta readers; without you all this would never have existed. You share inspirational snippets, bring joy to my life, and make me feel like I deserve the space I take up in the world. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
About Lucy Mason
Lucy lives in rural southern Illinois with a frankly ridiculous amount of yarn and books. During the day she works in adult education and by night she’s a writer and dabbler in yarncrafts. She knits, loves video games and podcasts, and cries over fictional characters regularly.
lucymason217@gmail.com
@LucyMason217
Website
www.lucymasonwrites.wordpress.com
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Lucy Mason, Ace of Hearts
