“I think you’re right,” said Sebastian. “The Nixons are a tight bunch. But they’re great, too. You’ll love them.”
My insides warmed as I thought about the Nixons letting me and Scotty into their clan. It would be good for both of us. Suddenly it made even more sense, her feelings about being on the inside of my life. When you come from a close family like hers, you want that for yourself. “Any ideas for a fucking amazing way to impress her?”
Sebastian went silent.
“Actually,” Miles said, his eyes lighting up, “I do have an idea. I happen to know that the entire Nixon family will be at a party at Abelard Vineyards on Christmas Eve. And no one knows this, but something pretty fucking cool is going to take place. I think it would mean a lot to her that you were there that night.”
“Really?” Sebastian looked at Miles.
“Really.” Miles gave him a warning look. “But you can’t say a word. Natalie would fucking kill me.”
“I won’t.”
“Christmas Eve, huh?” An idea was taking shape in my brain. “I think I could be there.”
“Good.” Miles raised his beer. “Cheers, brothers.”
Christmas Eve was five days away, but there was no way I could wait that long before contacting Jillian. One, I missed her too fucking much, and patience where she’s concerned had never been a virtue of mine; and two, I didn’t want her to suffer anymore. If she was half as miserable as I was, she was barely getting through a day.
I called her the day after I met Sebastian and Miles at the bar. It went to voicemail.
“Hey, beautiful. I miss you so much, and I hope you’re doing OK. I know I have not behaved well and don’t deserve another chance, but if you can meet me this week for coffee or a drink or dinner—anything—I’d love to see you. Let me know.”
I pressed end, feeling like I hadn’t said the right things to convince her, but what could I do? I wasn’t a poet, I had no singing voice, no magic words—I was just an imperfect guy hoping the perfect girl would love him.
She called me back after work that night.
“Hi,” she said when I answered. “I got your message.”
“Hey.” The sound of her voice made my heart beat faster. “I’m so glad you called.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“I wouldn’t have blamed you.” I set a plate of (cold) chicken, frozen peas, a warm—not hot—dinner roll, and a slice of cantaloupe on the island for Scotty. “Come and eat,” I called to him where he was playing on the family room rug.
“Oh, are you having dinner?” she said. “Just call me later.”
“No! I mean, yes, of course I will, if you want, but have you thought about my invitation?”
“I’m…still thinking.”
My spirits flagged a little. “I understand. Anything I can say to persuade you to say yes? I’ll say it.”
“I don’t know. I miss you, and I want to see you, but…what’s different this time, Levi?”
“Everything,” I promised. It suddenly occurred to me that my invitation on her voicemail hadn’t made that clear. I’d just invited her out like I used to. “In fact, I want to amend my earlier offer. Instead of coffee or a drink, why don’t you come over for dinner Friday night?”
“To your house?”
“Yes. I want to introduce you to Scotty.”
She sighed. “Levi, you know I’d love that, but I’m not doing it if this is just what you think I want to hear.”
“It’s not,” I said. “In fact, it’s not for you at all, it’s for me. You know how selfish I am.” I heard her laugh, and it made me smile.
“OK, then…OK. I’ll come over Friday.”
“Great. I’ve been talking about you a little.”
“You have?”
I smiled even bigger at the shock in her voice. “Yeah. He looked a little worried when I said you were a doctor—he doesn’t love checkups—so don’t wear the white coat.”
She laughed. “I’ll be sure to leave that behind. Can I bring anything?”
“Nope. Just your company.”
“What time?”
“Is six OK?”
“Yes, I’ll come right from work.”
“Perfect. Can’t wait to see you.”
“Same. I miss you. And I can’t wait to meet Scotty.”
We hung up, and I felt better than I had in a month. I could do this. I looked over at Scotty, who was carefully scooping his frozen peas onto his yellow spoon, a few spilling off the plate, and felt a rush of love for him, too. Neither of us was perfect, but we tried.
Sometimes that’s all you can do.
? ? ?
I called my mother that night too. As I’d suspected, it didn’t go over well that I wouldn’t be at their house on Christmas Eve until I hinted at something bigger than just the holiday.
“I understand that you have to make things up to her, but why does it have to be on Christmas Eve? That’s for family.”
“That’s the point, Mom.”
“But those people aren’t your family.”
“But I’m hoping they will be.”
She gasped. “What? What does that mean?”