Page 230 of The Storm

I see Callum and the others gathered around a table in the corner. Dia spots us first and waves when we approach.

“Late again,” she says and tuts, but she’s grinning and doesn’t look like she cares that much.

I lean over and kiss her on the cheek. I’ve had years to get used to the idea that she’s technically my twin, but even after all this time, the idea just refuses to truly click. She’s a friend. Like Callum is a friend. Like Bridget is a friend. I don’t know if I’m sad that I’ve lost that possibility of having a sibling bond because of the choices other people made for me. Angry, maybe. But then I’ve been angry for a long time. Long enough to learn it won’t lead anywhere. Anger only eats you up inside. It might make for good fuel for revenge, but I’m not after that. Mostly I’m determined to live a good life with Blue. Make up for my own mistakes. Make peace.

Love him.

Most of all, I’m determined to love him.

Blue and I take our seats, and I pull his chair closer. He laughs. Our friends snicker and tease.

It’s all good.

Messy on the surface.

But good underneath it all.

Blue easily falls into conversation with Dylan and Bridget, and I lean back in my chair and take them all in.

I can’t help but wonder if we’d all be here if our parents had made different choices back then. Maybe. It’s impossible to say. Most likely life would have played out differently, though. An alternative life. Not necessarily and technically a bad one. Just different.

But then, when I look at Blue, all I know is that every life without him in it would be a reality I wouldn’t want.

“Okay?” Blue asks. The side of his foot is pressed against mine underneath the table. He’s leaned toward me, voice low.

I nod. And smile. “Better than I ever imagined.”

I link our fingers and squeeze his hand.

He grins at me. That dazzling Blue-smile I’ve always loved back in place. No raised walls or guards anymore.

“Yeah?” he asks.

I nod. “I love you,” I say. The words come easily. Natural. Like breathing. “Forever.”

“Promise?” he asks.

“Promise.”

INDY

FIVE YEARS LATER

I walkthrough the rain with a smile on my face, feet splashing in puddles. I turn the corner just as the rain starts to get heavier again, so I jog the last few steps that take me to the courtyard.

The courtyard looks almost the same as it did five years ago. There are new lights hanging over the front door, but everything else looks the same. The small restaurant in all its understated beauty. Its walls, windows, frames, and doors have recently gotten a fresh coat of paint. It’s the usual mix of pale gray, forest-green, dusty-pink, and of course the indigo door. Messy, Nick says, and he’s wrong. For me, this place has always felt the opposite of messy. It’s a bit eclectic, but mostly warm and inviting. It should be, too. It’s Nick’s baby. Five years, and a lot of work, sweat, and tears have gone into this place. It’s been a ride, and I couldn’t be prouder of everything he’s accomplished. Not even just proud. I’m impressed.

He’s got two Michelin stars, a waiting list a mile long, and Indigo is regularly featured in all those top twenty-thirty-fifty best restaurants lists.

Later, the restaurant will be full of friends and family with the tables pushed together in the middle with just enough room for everybody. Somehow, in these last five years, our circle haskept expanding. We have these dinners a few times a year when Nick comes out with the new menu.

Dylan and Adrian will come along with at least a few of Adrian’s siblings. Dia will be here. Bridget. Callum. My father if he’s in town. My mother.

It’s still far from smooth sailing with my parents. There’s still an underlying layer of hurt with us all that sometimes seeps through. We’re trying. Cautiously. But we’re trying. All of us.

This restaurant is like our second home. We both work here. Nick in the kitchen, me as a mix of an accountant/assistant/random guy who does all the jobs that need to be done. I love it. It wasn’t the plan, but then I just sort of fell into this role, and I wouldn’t change it. This place is ours.

I pull the door open and go inside. And then I stop mid-step. There are a lot of candles lit on every available surface, which isn’t the way we usually decorate this place for one of our dinners.