Winter Wonderland

nine: family lunch

*

My phone has been going crazy ever since leaving the concert, mostly with texts from Mom but also a few from my brothers and – most shockingly of all – one from my dad. A long one. It's his that I read as Storie drives us back to her apartment.

DAD: I didn't know Astoria was back in your life. I hope you'll treat her right, William. She's a wonderful young woman and as happy as I am to see the two of you together again, I know how much you hurt her. I like to think you have matured in the years since then. I've seen you grow, and nothing would make me a happier and prouder father than for you to find love again. Especially with Astoria. Please treat her right this time. A fair warning ahead of tomorrow's lunch: Dasha is already planning your wedding. You may wish to warn Astoria.

I want to text back her name is Storie, but my dad has never been good with nicknames unless it comes to my sisters. I'm not used to getting such a long message from him and some of his words are tiny knives that prick my skin, but some of them stand out. Nothing would make me a happier and prouder father. He cares. Fuck. That shouldn't make me well up but my eyes are stinging and I don't even realize we've reached Storie's building until the engine dies and she unclicks her seatbelt.

"What's up?" she asks, looking from my wet eyes to my screen. "Everything ok?"

"Yeah, yeah. Absolutely. It's just my dad."

"Is he all right?"

I show her the screen. Her eyes dart from side to side as she reads the message, her eyebrows slowly climbing.

"Wow. Your dad likes me?"

I laugh. "Evidently so. I, uh, I'm not used to getting messages like that from him," I say. "To be honest, he never texts me. So he really doesn't want me to fuck up. Which means he really likes you."

Her cheeks go darker when she blushes deeply and gets out of the car. I follow her to the dreaded elevator and she hits the button for the twenty-fifth floor, and only once we've started moving does she talk.

"I love your family," she says. "It was so weird to see them again. I still can't get over Daria being seven. And your mom is just the same, and ... god, it's weird." She rubs her forehead, shaking her head to herself. "I can't believe it's been four years. It feels like one. But it also kind of feels like ten."

"Weird is putting it lightly," I say. I still can't believe I'm here. That this is really happening.

When we reach Storie's apartment and slip off our shoes and she fetches the bottle of wine, the evening catches up with me and my heart starts racing a million miles a minute when I remember what Daria asked, and I remember what Storie said.

"I just need to double check," I say, "because I don't want to make a fool of myself and it's very likely that my hopeful ears heard wrong, but ... we're dating again, right? I'm ... I can call you my girlfriend?"

The word is a hug. It is Storie's arms around me, her words in my ear, the scent of her shampoo lingering. It's comfort and relief and everything I've missed over the last four years.

"Yes," she says. She sounds so confident. The solitary word is so definitive. And yet I still can't believe it. My head and my heart are refusing to work together, refusing to believe that this is really what she wants. That she wants me, after everything I did.

"Are you sure?"

She meets my eyes. Two half-filled glasses in her hands, she comes over to the sofa and sits next to me, one leg up so she can face me. "You sound like how I felt for the first, like, month of our relationship," she says. Her voice is measured, her posture at ease. "I'm sure, Liam. I'm not being flippant and I'm not rushing, and you're not rushing me."