I shoot a glare in her direction—so much for Wren and I having a private conversation.
“No more talking about the egg hunt!” Mom says, appearing in the doorway between the rooms wearing a creme blouse and a devilish smirk on her face. “Not untilafterdinner.”
Sloane lets out a happy sound. “Please. I’m starving.”
She’s big now, her belly her primary feature as Cal helps her up and toward the dining room. I move to follow them, but someone clears a throat beside me.
“Sorry, real quick,” Dad says. “We’ll be right in.”
Wren shoots me a look, something that saysYou good? I squeeze her hand and gesture for her to go on—Dad probably needs help hiding one of the eggs somewhere up high, maybe for Cal or one of our taller cousins.
“Just need a second, champ,” Dad says, looking uncharacteristically old.
I blink at him, catching up with the wrinkles around his eyes, the grays in his full head of hair. Sometimes, it hits me that I’m not growing older in a vacuum. The people around me are growing older, too. “Alright,” I glance in the direction of the dining room.Mom is probably busy doling out the amalgamation of juices she put together as a “fun Easter drink”, so we have some time. “What’s up?”
Sunlight streams in through the window behind him, and he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. When he looks at me, it’s with equal measures of guilt and hope.
“I didn’t—” He clears his throat again, stops, and looks back at me. “Basically, it’s this—I should have given you this ring for Mandy. It’s a family thing, and Nan wanted it to go to you for your wife. I convenientlyforgot, and that wasn’t cool of me. But I—well, all of us were confused by that marriage, son. Anyway, I’m giving it to you now. I regret meddling, and not telling you about it for Mandy, but I’m also glad that Wren will be the first one to wear it after Nan did.”
Everything comes out of him in one fell swoop, and it takes my brain a moment to catch up.
“Gerald!” Mom calls from the direction of the dining room. “Are you coming? Or do you want me to carve the ham?”
He’s been laboring in the kitchen for hours now, and there’s no chance he’s going to let Mom do the carving. “Coming!” he says, before clapping his hand on my shoulder and looking me deep in the eyes for moment.
“Dad—”
“Gerald!”
“We’ll talk later,” Dad says, starting to move past me. “I just wanted—well, I got the sense that things were getting serious with you and Wren. Thought I’d make sure you knew you had this ring as an option.”
And with that, he hurries in the direction of Mom’s voice, leaving me standing in the foyer with a tiny ring box and a heavy, beating heart.
***
I’m walking down the hallway, full of ham and mashed potatoes, trying to figure out where Wren has gone. The house is alive with shouts and arguments, teams working on their eggs, people running quietly, floorboards creaking under footsteps upstairs.
The ring box is burning a hole in my pocket, a physical symbol of the question running through my mind. Of Wren and me, what we are. The unspoken truth that this thing is no longer fake between us.
I told her I didn’t want her to marry anyone else. Since when do I have a hard time being direct?
Maybe since I’d had to worry that pushing too hard might drive her away from me.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I let out a surprised noise when a hand reaches out and tugs on me, pulling me sideways.
“What the—?”
Wren laughs quietly—evilly—as she yanks me into a hallway closet and shuts the door, muffling the sounds of our family members completing the egg hunt outside. I blink, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the lack of light in the closet, careful not to kick the Costco-size packs of soda along the floor.
“Got you,” Wren whispers.
“Yeah, you did.” My arms move around her, fingers skimming along her dress, the slight puckering of the fabric at the small of her back sending a shiver up my spine. “What are you doing?”
“Wanted to find somewhere quiet.”
“Aren’t you worried someone else is going to puzzle out the golden egg before you?”
Wren laughs quietly, and I feel the puff of air from it against the base of my throat. I want to scoop her into my arms, hold her against my chest, and keep her as close to me as physically possible.
