epilogue

68.4K 2.4K 678
                                    

• • •

I wake up with the fizz of nervous anticipation that tells me today's the day. Even when Gray and I first decided to take this trip, I wasn't sure it would ever happen. I thought it would be one of those things best friends talk about, fantasizing about an epic cross-country drive, but never get around to. After initially planning to go right after our finals, we had to postpone it and I was sure that would be the end of it.

But now the day is here. Exactly one month before we start our sophomore year at South Lakes College. It's time for Gray and me to take on the country, one step at a time.

When my fizzing nerves subside, giving way to a blossoming excitement, I roll out of bed and take a moment to make myself look a little more presentable. It's been so hot this July that I've had the window wide open every night, exchanging my comforter for a top sheet and pajamas for none. I wake up to a warm room, the sun pouring through my window, and the realization that it's nine o'clock already.

Our first stop is a low key night with Kris in Cleveland, only ninety minutes away, so we're not leaving until way later, but I still feel like I've slept in too late. Gray has probably been up since six, excited and planning and buzzing. It's a wonder he didn't wake me up too, but I appreciate the lie-in. I crashed at ten o'clock last night, before anyone else had gone to bed and eleven hours later, I'm probably the last to wake.

The house is quiet as I head downstairs, passing my favorite photo hanging halfway up the stairs: a candid of Mom and Tad's wedding day, minutes after their marriage was made official. They're kissing beneath a floral arch; Kris and I are hugging, and Gray is mid-jump, his tie flying over his shoulder and a look of ecstasy on his face.

It never fails to make me smile.

"Morning!"

I hear Gray before I see him. He's standing in front of the kitchen window, slightly swaying, with a tiny, quiet baby in his arms. I grin at the two of them and head straight for them, stroking Jasper's soft baby head, the thick crop of black hair he was born with.

"Guess who's a month old today?" Gray grins at me and then Jasper. "A whole month!"

"How's my little Jazzy Pear?" I coo down at him, scooping him out of Gray's arms. He's so soft and delicate, his little body snuggling against me when I cradle him. "Have you been up long?"

"Only a couple of hours," Gray says with a laugh. "This is like Christmas morning – how am I supposed to sleep when I'm so excited for today?" He uses his newfound freedom to put on the kettle and root out a few mugs and plates. "Dad's gone to get some stuff for breakfast."

"And Mom?"

"In the shower, I think," he says, jumping back when he opens the dishwasher and it steams up at him. I take a seat, instinctively swaying with the baby in my arms. When he yawns, his whole face scrunches up, his tiny nose wrinkling. He may only be a few weeks old, but he looks exactly like Gray. I snuggle him closer and inhale his sweet baby smell. It's enough to calm any residual nerves that linger at the back of my mind, though it'll make it harder to leave for a whole month.

Once Gray has laid the table, he takes Jasper from me and bounces him, grinning and cooing. He's a natural. I think his childish disposition helps. He's just a big kid himself.

At the same moment that I hear Tad's car pull in outside, Mom comes down in leggings and one of Tad's shirts, a strangely endearing sight. She's squeezing her hair out with a hand towel. When she sees us, her absent expression morphs into joy and she drops the towel on a chair. Gray turns around, beaming.

"Hey, look, it's Mommy!" he says to Jasper, handing him over to Mom when she reaches for him, hugging Gray as she takes the baby and kisses both his cheeks.

All of MeWhere stories live. Discover now