Page 164 of Sparks Fly

My father’s eyes landed on Sawyer and he looked curious. Not cold. Not angry. Just trying to place her in the new story.

“This is Sawyer,” I said, my voice steady. “My girlfriend.”

The word landed clean.

Solid.

Sawyer held out her hand. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

My mother shook it, her expression careful but not cruel. “Nice to meet you too.”

My father followed and shook Sawyer’s hand with a firm grip. “Thank you for being here.”

Sawyer nodded once. “Of course.”

There was no disaster. No explosion.

Just a moment.

And when my mother stepped closer and touched my arm gently, I realized she was trying. Awkwardly. Imperfectly. But trying.

“I’m glad you’re happy,” she said quietly.

I had spent years imagining this conversation. None of those versions had looked like this.

My throat tightened. “I am.”

Her gaze flicked to Sawyer and then back to me. “Okay.”

It wasn’t everything.

But it was something.

And I could work with something.

* * *

At the reception, the lights dimmed, the music rose, and people danced like the world was simple.

Sawyer stayed close. She was still careful with her shoulder, but she didn’t act like she was breakable. She held my hand. Kissed my cheek. Let my friends drag her into photos without complaining once.

And I didn’t flinch.

When I introduced her, I didn’t stumble over the word girlfriend. When someone asked how we met, I didn’t lie.

I watched Sawyer laugh with Lilly. Lilly. And something inside me unclenched that I hadn’t even realized was still holding tight.

Later, when the slow songs started, Sawyer tugged me toward the dance floor with her good hand. “Come here.”

I stepped into her carefully, mindful of her shoulder. Her good hand settled at my waist like it belonged there.

Like it had always belonged there.

We swayed slowly, our bodies close while the room blurred around us in warm light and moving shadows.

Sawyer’s mouth brushed my ear. “You okay?”

I laughed softly. “I keep waiting for something to go wrong.”