Remember When 3: The Finale Part 15

"He did. A while back. Took me out for dinner and apologized for being an evil ogre. Still didn't want to talk about you, but he was in a better place by then, at least."

We were in the midst of sharing a teary-eyed hug when Claudia came in with Mrs. Wilmington. She'd flown in for the occasion, and the two of them had spent the whole day house hunting. I guessed now that her husband was gone, Mrs. W. could make that long-antic.i.p.ated move out west.

Sandy sobbed, "I'm just... I'm just so glad you're here right now. We all are. Trip's never been happier."

I hugged her even tighter. Her words carried more weight than she could ever realize. "Thank you for that."

Claudia stood in the living room, watching as Sandy and I swiped our eyes. She knew full well what we'd been discussing, because she put her hands to her hips and busted, "Sandy. What the heck did you do to the poor girl now?"

That made us laugh. Claudia threw an arm around my shoulders and said, "She really couldn't get over it for the longest time. I didn't really understand until I saw you two together, but I gotta agree; it's good to have you around, kid."

The approval of Claudia Wilmington. Jesus. Now I knew Trip and me were doing something right.

Mrs. W. came into the room then, bouncing Skylar in her arms and sing-songing, "Look who's up from her nap!"

Claudia released her arm from my shoulders and said, "Yeah right, Ma. Like we don't know you just went in there and woke her up." She rolled her eyes and announced she was going to the kitchen to heat up a bottle.

It was really pretty awesome to have the Wilmington women in my life. I'd always been surrounded by men. And actually, after growing up with so many male relatives, it was a breath of fresh air to have some female family members around, even if they weren't my own.

Chapter 21.

BACK IN THE DAY.

By the time I pulled the meatloaf out of the oven, Trip had come home. He walked into the kitchen to find all his women standing there, ready to celebrate his thirty-second birthday.

Jesus. Thirty-two. Remember how old you used to think that was when you were a kid? I remember as a little girl, doing the calculations until the millennium. I figured on New Year's Eve of 2000, I'd be twenty-six, married, and with four kids by then.

We all know how that turned out instead.

Trip had a shy smile on his face as he entered the room. He was only partially surprised to see his mother there and went over to give her a hug, before kissing Claudia, Sandy, and Skylar h.e.l.lo. Then he came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist as I stirred the creamed spinach at the stove. You'd think with his money, his tastes would have gotten more extensive. But when I asked him what he wanted for his birthday dinner, he immediately requested meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and the aforementioned spinach. After the diet and exercise binge I'd gone on leading up to the Oscars, I was more than happy to indulge in a little soul food. At least for one night. I still had an entire city of beautiful women to keep up with.

He nuzzled his face against my neck and said, "Mmm. Smells great." I didn't know if he was talking about me or the food until he asked, "Did you make everything yourself?"

"I did. Used your mom's recipe for the meatloaf, though."

"Perfect. Can't wait to dive in." At that, he bit my earlobe, and I knew he was talking about me that time.

"Okay, kids, that's quite enough," Claudia snarked as we laughed. "All this cute is making me a little sick to my stomach, and I haven't even eaten Layla's cooking yet."

After dinner, we retired to the living room for dessert. Sandy had made a phenomenal brownie cheesecake, and I was only slightly annoyed that she had picked something even more fattening than Trip's dinner selection. Et tu, Brute? Again, I tried to ignore the calories. It was my boyfriend's birthday, and I justified the sliver of cheesecake.

I wasn't much looking forward to the extra-intensive workout in the morning, however.

Trip and I took over the couch with the baby, and I was bouncing her on my lap, watching her beautiful, chubby face splinter with drooly smiles as she chewed on her hand. She had a great laugh, and I was pulling out every trick in my repertoire just to hear it as often as possible.

"You're a natural," Trip's mom directed at me.

I chuckled and responded, "No. I'm practiced. My best friend had twins a few years ago." A pang gripped my heart as I mentioned Caleb and Julia. G.o.d, I missed those little f.u.c.kers. "Baby number three is due this summer. And. I. Can't. Wait," I added, bouncing Skylar's feet against my knees on every word. She started squealing in response. Jackpot.

"Oh! Look at her face!" Mrs. W. exclaimed. "Oh, she reminds me so much of your father when she laughs like that."

Trip spat, "Skylar's adopted, Ma."

"Even still. She's a Wilmington." Mrs. W. leaned over from her chair toward her granddaughter. "And you know it too, don't you, baby girl," she added, grabbing at Skylar's pudgy toes.

"She's a Wilmington-Carron. And stop comparing her to that a.s.shole."

We all went silent at that, the room turning quiet enough that I could actually hear the hall clock ticking away the seconds. I kept my focus trained on the baby on my lap, miming happy faces in her direction, trying to downplay the awkwardness that had suddenly crept into the evening. I was well aware that it wasn't the first confrontation Trip's family ever had regarding Terrence C. Wilmington II. Despite the fact that their mother was their saving grace in that house, neither Claudia nor Trip had ever understood her loyalty to the man. I didn't feel it was my place to join the conversation, so I simply placed my hand at Trip's leg and gave an inconspicuous squeeze, just as a reminder that I was there for him.

Finally, Mrs. W. broke the silence with her calm but firm voice. "Your father was a good man, Terrence. I won't have you speak of him that way in my presence."

"He was a drunk, Ma."

Trip's mother sank back into her chair, her tone conciliatory. "Can't you try and remember the good times? Yes, he fought his battles with the bottle, but then, so did you. What if I had given up on you?" Trip stayed silent at that. "Terrence, you never forgive. Look at you right now. You've got your arm around Layla, and yet you still haven't forgiven her. I love you, but you can be stubborn as a mule sometimes." She shook her head and looked at him earnestly before leaning forward on her chair and placing a consoling hand against his knee. "Sometimes, you just have to learn when to let go. Let it go, honey."

There was a heavy pause before Claudia let out with a long whistle. "Well. On that lovely note, I'd say it's time to get this kid to bed." Trip's sister reclaimed her daughter from my arms as Sandy gathered up all of the baby's things.

Mrs. Wilmington stood up to leave as well, brushed a hand over Trip's hair and kissed him on his forehead. "Goodnight, my sweet boy. Happy birthday. I love you."

Trip was still stewing from his mother's reprimand, but he answered, "Yeah, love you, too, Ma. Thanks for coming out for my birthday."

"Lunch tomorrow?" she asked hopefully, her attempt at a truce.

Her invitation allowed a small smile to escape his lips as he answered in a resigned voice, "Yeah. Yes. I'll call you in the morning."

After they'd gone, I finished cleaning up the kitchen and then collapsed onto the couch next to Trip. He was busy checking out his new gifts: a Tag watch from his mother, and a mini digital palmcorder from his sister and Sandy.

I watched him in silence for a few minutes before asking, "You okay?"

"Why? Because of that thing with my mother?"

"Well, yeah."

He shrugged his shoulders and said matter-of-factly, "It's not the first time we've disagreed about the guy. I just wish Claudia would back me up a little more sometimes. She had her problems with him, too, you know. But it's like she and my mom are content to just forget all about it now that he's gone."

"But you can't? Or won't?"

He gave another shrug, indifferent to the conversation I was trying to start. I already knew how Trip felt about his old man, but he'd never allowed himself to deal with those feelings. Denial had been his coping mechanism for way too long. Forgiveness isn't really something you can force on a person, but if I could just get him to talk about it, maybe we could sort it out together.

I tried the indirect route. "Hey. What did your mom mean when she said you haven't forgiven me? I thought we were past that."

Trip didn't look up from the pamphlet he was inspecting. "We are. Now. But I spent so many years angry at you that I guess she figures old habits are hard to break."

"Kinda like you and your dad when you think about it, huh?"

That got his attention as he looked up and met my eyes, a blank expression in his. "You're you. He's him. It's not the same at all."

I thought he was being intentionally evasive, but I realized the guy probably didn't want to get the third degree on his birthday. Maybe my timing wasn't so great. "Do you even want to talk about this?"

"Not really," he said as he went back to his gifts.

"But you're okay, right? I feel like your birthday party has this big cloud hanging over it now."

He stopped futzing with the palmcorder to meet my eyes, a lethal smirk decorating his face. He put a hand under my chin and tipped my face toward him. "It's not the first time my mother and I have had that discussion. It won't be the last. You're making too much of it. Nothing could ruin tonight. Thank you." At that, he brushed his lips against my forehead in a sweet, pacifying kiss.

Even if I felt my psychoa.n.a.lysis had been a big bust, I at least knew that Trip was at peace about the evening's events. I figured we'd be tackling his father situation with baby steps, and that maybe we'd taken enough of those for one night. I could try again another time. A time when it wasn't his birthday. So, instead of hitting him with the Spanish Inquisition, I pulled a gift bag out from behind the couch and plunked it on his lap.

A huge smile spread across his face.

"You seem surprised," I noted.

"I just thought the party was my present."

"Oh my G.o.d, Chester. You're so cute. And stupid. You're kinda stupid, too. Don't hurt yourself there, big guy. You just sit there and look pretty, okay?"

He shoved a forearm into me, then tore into his gift.

The first thing he pulled out was a manila envelope. Inside, there was an 8 x 10 photo of us from Oscar night, a really great shot where he was whispering in my ear and I was laughing. I'd contacted US Magazine when I saw it, and asked to buy a print. "Wow, great shot," Trip said, admiring the picture. "We should frame this one." He shot me a wink, and it made me smile, but I was anxious for him to see the something-even-better in that envelope.

Trip peeked inside and started chuckling when he saw the folded piece of notebook paper. "Oh, man. You're not going to make me read this, are you? I'm already cringing."

I nudged into him and explained, "It's not your Mind Ramble. It's mine."

His eyebrows raised in antic.i.p.ation, plunging his hand into the envelope and pulling it out.

Here's what I wrote: Hey Dummy.

After spending too long in the Hallmark store, I realized that no pre-printed card was going to cut it. I thought it would be best if I wished you a happy 32nd birthday in my own words.

My own words? Okay, here they are: I'm crazy, sick , head-over-heels in love with you.

These past weeks have been the most amazing of my life. Not just because I'm in an exciting new place and taking part in your exciting life.

It's because of you.

The person you are. The incredibly generous, and fun, and hardworking, and incredibly beautiful person that you are.

Do you even know how beautiful you are?

I wanted this gift to take us back to the beginning, to where it all started.

The start of US.

Here's to looking back... But more importantly... Here's to what's yet to come.

Happy birthday, Chester.

I love you.

Lay-Lay Trip sat there staring at the sheet of paper in his hands for way longer than necessary, and I knew he must have read my letter at least twice during that time. When he finally raised his head, his eyes met mine in grat.i.tude. "G.o.d. Is this what you felt like when you read mine?"

I smiled and asked, "I don't know. What do you feel like right now?"

He gave a shake to his skull, slid a palm over my hair and answered, "Like I could fly."

"Well, then, yep. Same feels," I confirmed.

He laughed at that, gave me a lingering kiss on the corner of my mouth.

Just to thwart any further corniness, I pulled back and joked, "If that's the reaction I get for your card, I can't wait to see what I'll get for your present!"

He snickered, then turned his focus back toward the gift bag. Inside, there were three wrapped packages of varying sizes. In true Trip fas.h.i.+on, he unwrapped the biggest one first. When he did, his lips pursed into a smile and his shoulders slumped as he viewed the Dukes of Hazzard lunchbox in his hands. "You kept it."

"Of course I kept it. Hidden in a wad of beach towels and shoved to the back of my closet... But I kept it."

He ran a palm over the front as I said, "Well, open it, dummy! There's more inside."

He broke out of his daze to flip the latch, cracking up as he did so. "Holy s.h.i.+t. It's us!"

His hands dove into the treasure trove, pulling out the bag of Skittles, the package of Twinkies. The pack of Juicy Fruit, the snack-sized bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, the scattered pieces of salt.w.a.ter taffy.

Underneath all the junk food, he unearthed his nametag from Totally Videos that I'd saved as if it were a voodoo talisman. "Oh my G.o.d! I can't believe you have this, you stalker!"

I laughed and admitted, "I slept with it under my pillow that whole winter."

"Loser."

The last item was a broken piece of cork. He held it up and asked, "Our wine from the tent?"

"Yep," I smiled back.

He shook his head in disbelief. "You are just the best, you know that?" he asked, before his lips came down sweetly on mine.