Page 91 of Never Pucking Ending

Will it, though? I may be having a heart attack. Is thirty-four too young for that sort of thing? Mom’s uncle died from one when he was fifty and everybody said that was young to go through cardiac arrest. And my palms must be clammy because I feel overheated all the sudden. I try peeling my hand away from Jesse, but he won’t let me.

“Belle,” he says calmly. “Look at me.”

My eyes are on the big windows of the small restaurant, searching for my mother and his father at one of the tables. I don’t see them, but I know they’re here. Mom texted me saying they arrived and got seated and would wait for us to order.

Jesse has to manually force my gaze away from the windows until we lock eyes. “It will be okay,” he repeats slowly and firmly. “They aren’t going to love us any less for this.”

It isn’t that I thought they would, but now the possibility is cemented in my head. Would my mother look at me like I’m a stranger? Like she thinks I’m some alien lifeform admitting to have abducted her daughter years ago and only now coming clean about it? Would Frank, whom I adore, make a face like this is the most outrageous thing he’s ever heard?

“Belle,” Jesse says again, this time sounding way more amused than he should. “You aren’t going to hyperventilate, are you?”

That’s a great question. “I don’t know?” It comes out like a question, and he cracks a smile. My shoulders slump. “I don’t want them to judge us or think we’re weird.”

“For loving each other?” he counters.

“Well…” I’m silent for a second. “Yes?” Another answer that shouldn’t sound like a question.

Jesse pulls me into him, wrapping those strong arms around me in a hug. It’s tight and warm and makes me melt against him because I know I’m being dumb. My mother may not understand, but that doesn’t mean she’ll disown me. And Frank already apparently suspected something was going on if he brought it up to Jesse. Let’s just hope stepsibling porn doesn’t come into this conversation or I may die from humiliation on the spot.

“Better?” he asks against my head, pecking the crown of my skull and breathing me in. He told me the other morning about how much he loved the scent of my hair, which is hilarious considering it’s cheap shampoo I buy at the dollar store.

I nod, even if I’m still a little queasy over what we’re about to do. My nervous system can’t always tell the difference between being chased by a grizzly bear and having an awkward conversation with my mom. It’s lovely.

I’m the first one to pull away, rolling my shoulders like I’m about to enter a boxing match. I know that I probably look ridiculous, but Jesse doesn’t say a thing. There’s a small smile on his face that he tries—and fails—to hide. It’s his ‘you’re adorable’ smile that he gives me when I’m stuffing popcorn in my face in my frumpiest sweatpants and stained sweatshirt.

Damn. This man really does love me.

It takes no time at all to spot my mother and Frank sitting in the far corner of the restaurant. The establishment isn’t even halfway packed, but it’s early. I think that’s why Jesse made the reservation for five-thirty and not later, so we’d have some semblance of privacy without eyes on us. We could have made something at the house and invited them over, but I thought it would be too suspicious since we almost never have them over for dinner at random. The last time Jesse asked them to come over, it was at our Pittsburgh house where he told them he was switching teams and would be moving. It was that night I announced I’d be going with him because I was selling Belle’s Place.

All three of them had stared at me wide-eyed. Jesse was tense for days after. Weeks, really. So much so that I was starting to doubt if he wanted me around at all. And that had stung. Bad.

Mom is smiling and waving at us as we approach before her eyes dart down to where my hand is slipped into Jesse’s. Our fingers are interwoven, and I get one more squeeze from him in comfort as Mom’s smile wavers.

It will be fine.

Those were Jesse’s words and I have to believe they’re true.

We stop at the four-person table where Mom and Frank sit on one side. It’s Jesse’s dad who speaks up first after noticing the way his son is holding my hand.

“It was only a matter of time before you pulled your head out of your ass, son,” he says simply, standing up and giving me a hug before grinning at Jesse.

And…what?

Mom slowly nods, still studying the way Jesse is holding my hand. She’s sitting. Thinking. There aren’t many times she’s been speechless, and I don’t love that this is one of them.

“Mom?” I ask hesitantly, trying my hardest not to frown or pull my hand away from the one place I love it being.

Eventually, she snaps out of whatever train of thought she’s having and stands. “This makes a lot of sense,” is what she goes with, giving us a smile that isn’t quite stiff but not quite easygoing either. Like she’s trying to connect all the dots in her mind and feeling overwhelmed by them.

Jesse doesn’t seem bothered by any of this. He exudes confidence the same way he always has, and now is no different. “I love Belle. Always have. Always will.”

It’s such a simple statement. He doesn’t utter it. Doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t sound scared or afraid or any of that. It isn’t spoken nonchalantly, but with a certainty that has my heart leaping in my chest with adoration.

And that’s when Mom’s smile turns warmer, brightening her eyes as she lets out a small breath that I don’t even think she realized she was holding when we walked over. “Of course you do, honey.”

It isn’t condescending or judgmental like I expected. It’s more resigned. Maybe in gentle understanding? Like hearing him say it is all she needed to realize that this is happening and was probably bound to eventually.

But then Mom says something that shouldn’t surprise me at all. Not in the least coming from her considering the unfiltered nonsense she loves to spew to shock me. “I thought I saw Jesse sneak out of your room the other morning, but I couldn’t be sure. I was so tired.”