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“I’m sorry,” he chokes out the words again and again.
His parents seem oblivious to his apologies, content to simply embrace their son. The three of them are a crying mess but they’re together at long last.
I watch the scene, my own eyes filled with tears. I wish I could have had a happy reunion with my mom. I wish she’d made different choices and gotten clean when I was little.
Before I can dwell on that thought, Ryan’s mom is stepping from the huddle and reaching for me.
“You brought my son back!” She proclaims with a watery smile before I’m crushed against her.
Ryan and his father join the huddle and now there are four of us sobbing.
Eventually, his parents usher us inside the house where I sit with Ryan on a floral couch that looks like it escaped the eighties.
He drums his foot.
I put a hand on his knee to still his nervous movements.
“We’re so glad you’re here,” his father says as they bring sweet tea and oatmeal raisin cookies into the living room.
Ryan eats in silence, clearly uncomfortable. When his parents ask questions, he only gives them one-word answers.
As the awkwardness stretches on, I take over the conversation telling them about what Ryan has been doing. I tell them about how I know their son and how proud I am of him.
My discussion seems to relax my boyfriend and he eventually opens up to them, talking about his journey toward sobriety and how hard that’s been. He tells them about spending the last few years at Alpha Defense and how he enjoys the work he does. He brags about me and my art, putting his arm around me as he talks.
We stay for so long that his parents insist on taking us to dinner.
Ryan squeezes my hand as we wait for them to get ready.
“Thank you for this,” he murmurs. “I needed it.”
I was nervous they wouldn’t like me at all since I’m so much younger than Ryan and so different from him. But his parents seem to have accepted me with the same grace they showed him.
“Taluhk nash-veh k'dular,” I whisper.
He frowns. “What does that one mean?”
“I cherish thee,” I explain, my heart filling with more love than I ever thought possible. I give his hand a quick squeeze and wink at him.
“I cherish you, kitten.” He cups my cheek and gives me a chaste kiss. “And I’ll spend every day of the rest of your life showing you that.”
EPILOGUE
RYAN
Lacey has been quieter than usual lately. It’s her birthday week and we’re spending it here in New York. Today, we’re going to see the Red Shirt Museum.
When I’m settled on the seat next to her in the cab, I rattle off the address for the driver. Then I turn to her and squeeze her hand. “Are you thinking about running?”
We’ve been together for almost three months and each day feels more amazing than the last. I’m just not sure if she feels the same way. The distance has me thinking that I’ll come home to an empty apartment soon.
“I’ve been thinking about a lot of things,” she offers with a smile that’s too tight.
“I want to go with you,” I say, running my thumb along the back of her hand. “I was serious when I said you’d never have to run alone.”
Her eyes tear up. She gets weepy at the slightest thing these days.
“I know,” she finally whispers.
