Chapter Nineteen
~Ashley~
NEARLY EVERY SEAT in the small community theater is filled. Kenny looks adorable onstage, and Delilah and I take tons of pictures. My parents are positively glowing with pride when Kenny stands center stage and says his lines perfectly. At the end of the play, when Kenny and Patricia hug, he squeezes her with all his might, and the whole audience awws.
When Kenny releases Patricia, she bends at the waist to catch her breath—I guess he really did hug her with all his might. Kenny walks to the edge of the stage and searches the audience.
“What’s he doing?” my mom whispers.
My dad shrugs. “It’s Kenny. Who knows?”
Kenny puts his hands beside his mouth and yells, “I did it, Bolton! I hugged her and it didn’t stink!”
The audience roars with laughter. My mother covers her eyes and shakes her head, but she’s laughing, too.
My father rises to his feet and yells, “That’s my boy,” which leads to a standing ovation, to which Kenny bows about a dozen times.
Delilah gets pictures of the whole thing.
She stands beside me as we clap and presses her leg against mine. Ever since I told her that I loved her, she’s been stealing glances at me, like she’s trying to figure me out. I haven’t told her again, because she knows how I feel, and there’s no need to overwhelm her. I guess it was kind of selfish of me to say it out loud when she’s already dealing with so much, but when I’m with her, I feel so much. It was really hard to hold back. And I want her to know that I love her when she goes home to Connecticut. I have a feeling it’s going to be much harder than she anticipates, but I respect her need to do it alone.
Delilah takes pictures of Kenny and my parents and Kenny and Patricia. She takes pictures of Bolton and the kids and my parents, me, and the kids. She takes so many pictures that I lose track of who’s in them.
“Can I see your phone?” Kenny holds out his hand to Delilah.
“Sure. Do you want me to show you how to take a picture?” She crouches beside him and he shakes his head.
“No. I want pictures with you in them.” He hands her phone to our father. “Dad, will you take pictures of me and Delilah? Then me and Delilah and Ashley. Then me and Delilah and Ashley and Patricia and Bolton. Then me and—”
“I get it, Kenny.” My father motions for us all to get together.
Kenny takes my hand and places it in Delilah’s. Her eyes cut to me.
“Mom said if Delilah didn’t mind, I could hold her hand, too. Do you mind, Delilah?” He turns his big brown eyes up to her.
She tightens her grip on him. “Nope. I don’t mind at all. In fact, I like holding two of my favorite people’s hands. It makes me feel special.”
Two hours later we drive away, waving to my parents, Kenny, and Bolton all the way down the street until they disappear from sight. Delilah picks up her phone at a stoplight and navigates to the pictures before handing it to me. I stare at the picture of Delilah holding mine and Kenny’s hands for a long time. When the phone sits idle for too long, the screen turns black. I press the button to unlock it and notice that Delilah has already made that photo her background image.
I think her baby steps just got a little bigger.
Chapter Twenty
~Delilah~
AFTER SPENDING TIME with Ashley’s family and Bolton, a few things become very clear to me.
I got ripped off in the parental-support department.
Ashley loves me.
I’m nowhere near ready to have children, although I love Kenny to pieces.
Ashley loves me.
The way Wyatt watches over me isn’t a bad thing, even if it feels stifling at times.
Ashley. Loves. Me.
It’s Tuesday afternoon, three days since our trip. Three days since Ash told me she loves me, which has made it hard for me to think about anything else. Three days since I spent time with what is probably the most supportive family on earth. Three days since meeting a kid who made me realize that I’m pigeonholing my relationship with Ashley. I don’t know how it happened, but listening to Kenny’s unfiltered thoughts was as enlightening as it was overwhelming. One thing he said stuck with me as much as Ashley’s I love you did.
I’m standing at the stainless-steel counter in the kitchen of the Taproom, eating a grilled-cheese sandwich, as his excited, high-pitched voice whips through my mind for the hundredth time. She said it’s okay for girls to be girlfriend and girlfriend and boys to be boyfriend and boyfriend. I think it’s okay since Mom said it’s okay.
Mom said it’s okay.
Kenny puts a lot of faith in his mother.
I pull out my phone and look at the pictures from this weekend. Kenny will probably grow up thinking same-sex relationships are acceptable because his mother said they were.