FIFTY-SEVEN

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O N E   M O N T H   L A T E R   -  O C T O B E R   2 0 1 9

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"Before we do this... are you sure about it, my daisy?" Nick questions. "We can tell your dad that now isn't the right time and can put it off."

"They have to meet at some point, Nick. Better now than in two months at our wedding, right?" I retort.

"True, true, but still, if you're not ready for this, we can postpone it," Nick says. "Meeting the in-laws—"

"It's not about our parents' meeting, and you know it," I interrupt.

He sighs. "I know, I'm trying to lighten the mood, my daisy."

"I'm sorry, I'm just nervous."

"It'll be fine," Nick responds.

I sigh and rub my thumb over his fingers. He's still gripping the gear stick, so his knuckles are more pronounced than usual. His skin is soft, and I know it's because he sneaks my hand cream from the bathroom when I'm not looking.

"Thing is, they have to meet at some point, and it's better to do it now than at the wedding. Plus, Dad's been looking forward to this for weeks," I say.

He moves his hand, so our fingers interlink like handcuffs without the key. I look into those amber eyes and my heart launches into space at record speed.

We've known each other for ten months now; it's been ten months since Joel had his first seizure.

In terms of time, it's but a needle in a haystack. But the past ten months have felt like a lifetime. While most people would look at us and think everything is too quick, it's right for us.

I knew the moment Nick and I kissed for the first time that I loved him. I just needed to understand what it meant. The clouds needed to clear for me to get what being in love was. I've always been in love with him. Ten months when you've been through what Nick and I have is a long time.

We've been together seven months now, yet it feels like so much longer because of everything that's happened. When you know, you know.

"Okay, then let's do this," Nick says. He unlocks our hands, and we get out of the car.

I watch as my dad gets out of his. I see the nerves before he even approaches: the way he nervously chuckles, his hands fit in his jacket pockets, and he doesn't quite keep up the eye contact.

"Aspen! Nick! You guys okay?" Dad greets, hugging us both.

"You look well, Dad," I say.

"Graham, are you sure about this?" Nick asks him as we stand by the front door.

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