Cut off. Those words kind of piss me off a little. I know Angel, know the exact reason why he's pissed. He's probably a little sore that Wes didn't follow him into hell, a little sore that he seemed to find shacking up with Lindsey a better option - and not even close to getting over the fact that Wesley's a father now when circumstances and people playing us for all we were worth meant that he's not.
"I'm kinda glad you guys stayed away," I admit, wondering what the hell Lindsey was thinking sneaking into my room like that if Wolfram and Hart were that much against him. Same with Wes. I seem to remember Angel getting a lot pissy at the mere mention of his name.
"Sounds like a deal to me, he's waited this long to have you around again. I think we can be patient a little bit longer."
I close my mouth abruptly at that. If I said anything it would have to be a lie and I don't want to do that - to Wes or Lindsey. I nod instead, smile a little, and find Alicia toddling over to me, trying to get a good look at my nails.
"They're soooo pretty," she gushes, turning my hand this way and that and I smile down at her, reaching out with my other hand to tickle her a little.
Lindsey heads to the door - me noting that he's always protector guy round here as he fingers the stake beneath his wrist before getting the money - and then Wesley's back, smiling and joking as the food appears.
Oh God, it smells gorgeous and if I wasn't so hungry? I'd be pretty much mortified at the fact that everyone in the room could hear my stomach rumble right then. "Liquid diet for the past ever," I remind them, "Sooo not my fault!"
I head off to the kitchen to get some plates, leaving Wes and Lindsey alone for a moment - or alone as you can be with Alicia in the room - and take a breath. This--It all feels too normal. It feels like I was meant to be here, slotting into their life like this, like some old family friend and I'm not sure I can do that. It can't be normal because sooner or later fate would take the decision out of my hands and Wesley would find out on his own. He'd find out on his own and he'd hate me.
Is it better this way? Probably not. I don't come up smelling of roses in this story no matter which way I paint it, but at least I'll have taken a step towards making it right.
I grab plates and a couple of forks and head back into the living room, my stomach rumbling again as I see they've opened the food.
"Y'know, I don't think you have to worry about Alicia or Lindsey bulldozering anything," I tell them, shooting an amused look Wes' way, "I'm starved! And I don't remember anything smelling this good."
I go through the usual song and dance when I open the door for the delivery guy, trying to set a good example for Alicia. Step back, hold the money on this side of the threshold so he has to reach across, and whatever you do, don't say anything that could be taken as an invite. Good habits to get into, and ones that I probably should have learned about four years back before I started opening my home for Aurelius family reunions.
"Don't be silly," I assure Alicia after I've sent the delivery boy on his way. I nudge the door shut with my foot and head back to the table. "We both know your Dad would eat his pizza with a knife and fork if we let him. We're the normal ones."
I start unpacking the food while Cordelia protests her innocence and Alicia leans across the table to try to figure out which bag the dessert happens to be in, and if I had a happiness clause like Angel, I would've gone evil ten times over by now. Cordelia ducks into the kitchen and I contemplate the bottle of champagne we've got hidden on top of the bookshelf, before walking over to pull it down.
"What do you think?" I ask Wes, rubbing the dust off the dark bottle with my sleeve. "Should we risk it?" Life's got this funny way of smacking a guy down when things are going just this good, but if you live in fear of the next rotten thing around the corner, you'll never be happy.
I loop my arm around his waist on the way back to the table, pulling him close for a quick kiss while Alicia mutters something about getting a room. That girl has been watching altogether too much tv. "I say we risk it," I decide, smiling. I won't tell him that I'm more than partly celebrating the absence of the constant worry from his eyes, or the sudden abundance of smiles around here. I'd only embarrass him.
"Best Chinese take-out this side of L.A.," I agree when Cordelia comes back with the cutlery and plates. "Well. There was that one place near Figaro that was pretty good, but we had to shut it down. Demon cooks." I'm going to be chattering worse than Alicia if I keep this up, so I sit down and shut up, content to just enjoy the moment for now.
When I walk into the room it seems as though I’m walking into a picture that has been going on for yeas, not in the last hour or so. As if Cordelia has been around sharing dinner with us frequently. Especially when she walks into the kitchen to get plates and the likes as if she knows… That makes me pause. It’s been so long since she was here that I forget that she *does* know the way around my place. She could probably find more in the kitchen then I can. And her growling stomach makes me feel more then a little guilty.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have kept you talking for so long,” I call after her before my attention gets drawn to the door. Alicia is hovering behind Lindsey, as per usual. She’s a smart one she is. Knows more then she lets on at times. I’m still not subjecting them to what lurks in the dark. They should know the dangers, but I don’t want them frightened of the dark, like I was. Which is why we do the ritual every week to banish the monsters under the bed and such. They don’t need to know right now that it’s actually real.
The sound of Cordelia setting the table and feeling of Lindsey sliding his arm around me startle me out of my thoughts. I glance at the champagne and can’t for the life of me remember why we gotten that. It’s not as though we have many reason to celebrate big time. We have our small triumphs, and are glad, grateful with those. “I can’t think of a better reason,” I admit softly, leaning into his touch. Lindsey moves way to divide the food while I go get the glasses.
“That’s only three glasses,” Alicia pouts.
“You’re not getting any champagne, young lady. You’ve already picked our favorite desert and you’ve accused me of eating pizza with utensils. Which I do not.” Okay, so I do, when they’re not around. But only because they were mocking me when I do use a knife and fork when they’re around. Eating pizza with your hands is just so…greasy, and…improper.
"Hah!" Alicia snort, digging into her food. "You would like probably eat 'crisps'" and I blink at the airquotes she makes, unable to stop myself from smiling fondly at Cordelia at that, "With a knife and fork if we'd let you. Seriously Dad. Lighten up, Geeze!"
"I am very, err...lit...up," I announce puzzled, wondering if that is actually grammatically correct. Pouring the champagne in the glasses, I realize that it was probably far from correct, grammatically or otherwise. Not that it matters, I’m feeling utterly euphoric, and can’t help but wonder when the bubble is going to burst. Because it will. This is my life, it'll always burst.
Wes - ever the gentleman - apologises for keeping me talking so long when he hears my stomach growl. I could kick myself for that. He has enough to feel guilty over and now he's worried that I'm hungry?
"Stop worrying, Dork Boy," I call back, "I'm fine!" Actually, I'm not that fine, but Wes doesn't need to know that. I'm standing looking at his refrigerator, at drawings the kids have done, report cards... And a photograph of me, him and Angel that makes me feel a little sick. That seems like a long time ago now. Too long, really, and not for the first time I'm wondering what actually happened to us.
I head back into the kitchen, arching an eyebrow when I notice Lindsey carrying a bottle of champagne. "We're celebrating?" Okay, I guess I could use a drink. As long as I don't have too much 'cause, y'know, painful renditions of 'We Are The Champions'? Not my forté.
Alicia pouts that there's only three glasses and I wonder if Wes'll bend on that one and give her a little sip when he shakes his head, “You’re not getting any champagne, young lady. You’ve already picked our favorite desert and you’ve accused me of eating pizza with utensils. Which I do not.”
I go to tell him that I've witnessed him on more than one occasion doing just that when Alicia snorts and my mouth falls open when she does airquotes. Airquotes! And Wes is smiling fondly at me and I've got to wonder, exactly, where she learned that from. Because I really don't see Wes doing airquotes at any point in his life.
"I am very, err...lit...up," Wes announces and I laugh, watching them all tuck into their food quite happily. Despite my hunger, I'm not eating yet. There's something to be said about watching people when they don't know you're looking - pervy as *that* sounds.
There's just something so real about them, about this little family unit they've created and I think I may have caught some of Wes' allergies or something 'cause-- Yeah, definitely time to eat, I think, practically throwing myself into the plate. I really was starving, thankfully.
"Best opportunity for celebration I've seen in awhile," I assure Cordelia.
The thing is, that dusty bottle could've sat up there until Doomsday if we waited until it felt like a safe time to celebrate. Carpe diem and all that. Seize the champagne. (Unless you're Alicia, in which case you're getting soda and a chance to put your imagination to work.)
I steal one of the egg rolls and remind myself to set a plate aside for Marilee that we can reheat tomorrow, smiling at the back-and-forth with Wes about his cutlery fixation. The poor guy really does get the brunt of the teasing around here, but he rolls with it well enough, and I never said his quirks weren't downright cute.
I sneak a glance around the table as Alicia inches a hand towards the little bag with the fortune cookies in it. Cordelia looks just about like I feel; so happy that it feels a little bit scary.
"I'm raising a toast," I declare, holding up my glass and shooting a sideways look at Alicia, who rolls her eyes but lifts her glass too. And then, with everybody looking at me expectantly, words fail me entirely.
To Cordelia? To hope? I'd like to say 'To this', but that wouldn't be very eloquent at all. I shrug sheepishly and look to Wes for help. "I'm thinking you better lead this one, Watcher-boy."
We’re celebrating. Damn right we’re celebrating. We’re celebrating that Cordy finally came back. We’re celebrating that I’ve not lost everyone of my old family. Yet. We’re celebrating that we’re all alive and healthy. We’re celebrating alright. So many thing’s there really aren’t any words for it to explain what we’re celebrating.
We all settle around the table with a practiced ease as though we’ve been doing this for years. As if Cordelia really does come over here daily and had a meal with us. Chattering amicably about everything and nothing. Alicia trying to steal fortune cookies - though a stern look and another eyerol puts an end to that tact - Lindsey and Cordelia seemingly getting alone, and I can’t help but watch this whole scene.
Family, I think, and yet there’s a pang of regret at that thought. Family. I’ve had family before, but I lost them. I had to watch them get swallowed by the firm who also tried to swallow up my boyfriend. He got out of there, why can’t they? I quickly have to shake myself out of my morose mood before I ruin things. A quick glance toward Cordelia shows me she’s having a bit of trouble keeping her ‘allergies’ in check.
Alicia can’t seem to stop staring at Cordelia either, fighting not to ask questions with her mouthful, or steal the fortune cookies slash desert. Lindsey seems to roll with the punches as well, though he seems to be speechless currently.
“You’ve no idea what to say, don’t you?” I ask amused, giving him a look to match. He shrugs, giving me a sheepish look.
“How about it?” Alicia sighs, still holding up her glass. “Some of us aren’t like, y’know, a hang-out sign.”
“Right you are love,” I amend, patting her head much to her dismay. Ignoring her remark about her hair, I raise my own glass and look from Cordy, to Lindsey to Alicia. “To living.”
I smile at Lindsey when he says that. Best opportunity for celebration I've seen in a while. I guess that'd be right, what with everything that's been going on lately. Though I can't help but wonder if they'll still think that when I get Wes his memory back.
I have to do it. It's not like anyone else is gonna change anything, not while they work for Wolfram and Hart. They don't even know that there's anything to change, not with all their flashy cars and big brains and-- Yeah, I'm kinda bitter about that. Not the money - that ship has well and truly sailed. The selling out. The working for evil. I don't get how any of them could possibly think it was a good idea, though it figures that Wesley would see right through it even without holding a full deck of cards.
Lindsey tries to make a toast while Alicia's trying to steal the fortune cookies and I grin when he falters, looking to Wesley. We always did look to Wesley for stuff like this, oddly enough. Angel was okay at toasts but more often than not? He said something dumb. Or something that'd set Wes' allergies off.
“You’ve no idea what to say, don’t you?” Wes asks, shooting Lindsey an amused glance. I smile. It's not exactly a regular thing seeing lawyer boy speechless, but I'm not gonna turn down that opportunity.
“How about it? Some of us aren’t like, y’know, a hang-out sign.” Says Alicia, letting out a mass protest when Wes pats her head. The hair, Wes! It's all about the hair, I think when her other hand comes up to pat it down, her gaze going straight to mine. Is it okay? Is there a hair out of place? Poor kid is starved for a little female affection in this place so I nod and wink at her, before glancing at Wes as he makes his toast.
“To living,” he says and I realise that since I walked in, they've done nothing but make me comfortable, set me at ease, include me in this little picture of happiness.
"To family." I add, because for tonight, I can pretend.
Tomorrow, it'll all be different. There'll be pain and heartache and even if Wes doesn't hate me for the things I did before - for abandoning him and sleeping with Connor and killing Lilah - he'll hate me for ruining what he has here. Not with Lindsey - even from an outsiders point of view, that looks strong enough to survive. They love each other, any idiot could see that. But the rest of it. Coming here and talking to him as if everything were normal. Eating dinner, laughing with his girls... All too normal and tomorrow--
I take a sip of the champagne and swallow hard, taking the opportunity to steal a fortune cookie and slide it Alicia's way while I think Wes and Lindsey aren't looking. Apparently they were 'cause Wes gives me this stern look and I smile innocently while Alicia folds it into her napkin. "What?"
Wes comes to my rescue with minimum needling on the subject, and I don't miss the little glance exchanged between Cordelia and Alicia. This could work, I decide. This really and truly could work.
I try my best, and Wesley is nothing if not a devoted dad, but neither of us are exactly gurus when it comes to understanding the minds of little girls. I can think of more than a few miscommunications ("Lipstick. Not lipgloss. Jeez, Lindsey...") that could've been avoided by Cordelia's presence around here.
"To living," says Wes, raising his glass, and I'll sure as hell drink to that. It's a fine line between surviving and actually living, and it's so damn easy to get caught up in just keeping your head above water. In just staying alive. And that's no way to live, really.
"To family," Cordelia chimes in, and I nod happily. I've missed having a family.
Sipping the champagne and savouring the bubbles that explode against my lips, the strangest thing is running through my thoughts. Holland Manners, of all people, asked me a question once. Maybe it was the fact that I didn't have the slightest damn clue what he was talking about at the time, or maybe it was the guard holding a loaded gun standing behind him, but the answer that he gave me always stayed in my mind. He asked me if I believed in love.
"I'm not speaking romantically," he had clarified at my puzzled look. "I'm talking about that sharp, clear sense of self a man gains once he's truly found his place in the world."
And you know something? Right here, surrounded by friends and people who care about me, grinning into my champagne glass, I think I get that thing about love now.
"I'm kinda glad you guys stayed away," I admit, wondering what the hell Lindsey was thinking sneaking into my room like that if Wolfram and Hart were that much against him. Same with Wes. I seem to remember Angel getting a lot pissy at the mere mention of his name.
"Sounds like a deal to me, he's waited this long to have you around again. I think we can be patient a little bit longer."
I close my mouth abruptly at that. If I said anything it would have to be a lie and I don't want to do that - to Wes or Lindsey. I nod instead, smile a little, and find Alicia toddling over to me, trying to get a good look at my nails.
"They're soooo pretty," she gushes, turning my hand this way and that and I smile down at her, reaching out with my other hand to tickle her a little.
Lindsey heads to the door - me noting that he's always protector guy round here as he fingers the stake beneath his wrist before getting the money - and then Wesley's back, smiling and joking as the food appears.
Oh God, it smells gorgeous and if I wasn't so hungry? I'd be pretty much mortified at the fact that everyone in the room could hear my stomach rumble right then. "Liquid diet for the past ever," I remind them, "Sooo not my fault!"
I head off to the kitchen to get some plates, leaving Wes and Lindsey alone for a moment - or alone as you can be with Alicia in the room - and take a breath. This--It all feels too normal. It feels like I was meant to be here, slotting into their life like this, like some old family friend and I'm not sure I can do that. It can't be normal because sooner or later fate would take the decision out of my hands and Wesley would find out on his own. He'd find out on his own and he'd hate me.
Is it better this way? Probably not. I don't come up smelling of roses in this story no matter which way I paint it, but at least I'll have taken a step towards making it right.
I grab plates and a couple of forks and head back into the living room, my stomach rumbling again as I see they've opened the food.
"Y'know, I don't think you have to worry about Alicia or Lindsey bulldozering anything," I tell them, shooting an amused look Wes' way, "I'm starved! And I don't remember anything smelling this good."
Reply
"Don't be silly," I assure Alicia after I've sent the delivery boy on his way. I nudge the door shut with my foot and head back to the table. "We both know your Dad would eat his pizza with a knife and fork if we let him. We're the normal ones."
I start unpacking the food while Cordelia protests her innocence and Alicia leans across the table to try to figure out which bag the dessert happens to be in, and if I had a happiness clause like Angel, I would've gone evil ten times over by now. Cordelia ducks into the kitchen and I contemplate the bottle of champagne we've got hidden on top of the bookshelf, before walking over to pull it down.
"What do you think?" I ask Wes, rubbing the dust off the dark bottle with my sleeve. "Should we risk it?" Life's got this funny way of smacking a guy down when things are going just this good, but if you live in fear of the next rotten thing around the corner, you'll never be happy.
I loop my arm around his waist on the way back to the table, pulling him close for a quick kiss while Alicia mutters something about getting a room. That girl has been watching altogether too much tv. "I say we risk it," I decide, smiling. I won't tell him that I'm more than partly celebrating the absence of the constant worry from his eyes, or the sudden abundance of smiles around here. I'd only embarrass him.
"Best Chinese take-out this side of L.A.," I agree when Cordelia comes back with the cutlery and plates. "Well. There was that one place near Figaro that was pretty good, but we had to shut it down. Demon cooks." I'm going to be chattering worse than Alicia if I keep this up, so I sit down and shut up, content to just enjoy the moment for now.
Reply
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have kept you talking for so long,” I call after her before my attention gets drawn to the door. Alicia is hovering behind Lindsey, as per usual. She’s a smart one she is. Knows more then she lets on at times. I’m still not subjecting them to what lurks in the dark. They should know the dangers, but I don’t want them frightened of the dark, like I was. Which is why we do the ritual every week to banish the monsters under the bed and such. They don’t need to know right now that it’s actually real.
The sound of Cordelia setting the table and feeling of Lindsey sliding his arm around me startle me out of my thoughts. I glance at the champagne and can’t for the life of me remember why we gotten that. It’s not as though we have many reason to celebrate big time. We have our small triumphs, and are glad, grateful with those. “I can’t think of a better reason,” I admit softly, leaning into his touch. Lindsey moves way to divide the food while I go get the glasses.
“That’s only three glasses,” Alicia pouts.
“You’re not getting any champagne, young lady. You’ve already picked our favorite desert and you’ve accused me of eating pizza with utensils. Which I do not.” Okay, so I do, when they’re not around. But only because they were mocking me when I do use a knife and fork when they’re around. Eating pizza with your hands is just so…greasy, and…improper.
"Hah!" Alicia snort, digging into her food. "You would like probably eat 'crisps'" and I blink at the airquotes she makes, unable to stop myself from smiling fondly at Cordelia at that, "With a knife and fork if we'd let you. Seriously Dad. Lighten up, Geeze!"
"I am very, err...lit...up," I announce puzzled, wondering if that is actually grammatically correct. Pouring the champagne in the glasses, I realize that it was probably far from correct, grammatically or otherwise. Not that it matters, I’m feeling utterly euphoric, and can’t help but wonder when the bubble is going to burst. Because it will. This is my life, it'll always burst.
Reply
"Stop worrying, Dork Boy," I call back, "I'm fine!" Actually, I'm not that fine, but Wes doesn't need to know that. I'm standing looking at his refrigerator, at drawings the kids have done, report cards... And a photograph of me, him and Angel that makes me feel a little sick. That seems like a long time ago now. Too long, really, and not for the first time I'm wondering what actually happened to us.
I head back into the kitchen, arching an eyebrow when I notice Lindsey carrying a bottle of champagne. "We're celebrating?" Okay, I guess I could use a drink. As long as I don't have too much 'cause, y'know, painful renditions of 'We Are The Champions'? Not my forté.
Alicia pouts that there's only three glasses and I wonder if Wes'll bend on that one and give her a little sip when he shakes his head, “You’re not getting any champagne, young lady. You’ve already picked our favorite desert and you’ve accused me of eating pizza with utensils. Which I do not.”
I go to tell him that I've witnessed him on more than one occasion doing just that when Alicia snorts and my mouth falls open when she does airquotes. Airquotes! And Wes is smiling fondly at me and I've got to wonder, exactly, where she learned that from. Because I really don't see Wes doing airquotes at any point in his life.
"I am very, err...lit...up," Wes announces and I laugh, watching them all tuck into their food quite happily. Despite my hunger, I'm not eating yet. There's something to be said about watching people when they don't know you're looking - pervy as *that* sounds.
There's just something so real about them, about this little family unit they've created and I think I may have caught some of Wes' allergies or something 'cause-- Yeah, definitely time to eat, I think, practically throwing myself into the plate. I really was starving, thankfully.
Reply
The thing is, that dusty bottle could've sat up there until Doomsday if we waited until it felt like a safe time to celebrate. Carpe diem and all that. Seize the champagne. (Unless you're Alicia, in which case you're getting soda and a chance to put your imagination to work.)
I steal one of the egg rolls and remind myself to set a plate aside for Marilee that we can reheat tomorrow, smiling at the back-and-forth with Wes about his cutlery fixation. The poor guy really does get the brunt of the teasing around here, but he rolls with it well enough, and I never said his quirks weren't downright cute.
I sneak a glance around the table as Alicia inches a hand towards the little bag with the fortune cookies in it. Cordelia looks just about like I feel; so happy that it feels a little bit scary.
"I'm raising a toast," I declare, holding up my glass and shooting a sideways look at Alicia, who rolls her eyes but lifts her glass too. And then, with everybody looking at me expectantly, words fail me entirely.
To Cordelia? To hope? I'd like to say 'To this', but that wouldn't be very eloquent at all. I shrug sheepishly and look to Wes for help. "I'm thinking you better lead this one, Watcher-boy."
Reply
We all settle around the table with a practiced ease as though we’ve been doing this for years. As if Cordelia really does come over here daily and had a meal with us. Chattering amicably about everything and nothing. Alicia trying to steal fortune cookies - though a stern look and another eyerol puts an end to that tact - Lindsey and Cordelia seemingly getting alone, and I can’t help but watch this whole scene.
Family, I think, and yet there’s a pang of regret at that thought. Family. I’ve had family before, but I lost them. I had to watch them get swallowed by the firm who also tried to swallow up my boyfriend. He got out of there, why can’t they? I quickly have to shake myself out of my morose mood before I ruin things. A quick glance toward Cordelia shows me she’s having a bit of trouble keeping her ‘allergies’ in check.
Alicia can’t seem to stop staring at Cordelia either, fighting not to ask questions with her mouthful, or steal the fortune cookies slash desert. Lindsey seems to roll with the punches as well, though he seems to be speechless currently.
“You’ve no idea what to say, don’t you?” I ask amused, giving him a look to match. He shrugs, giving me a sheepish look.
“How about it?” Alicia sighs, still holding up her glass. “Some of us aren’t like, y’know, a hang-out sign.”
“Right you are love,” I amend, patting her head much to her dismay. Ignoring her remark about her hair, I raise my own glass and look from Cordy, to Lindsey to Alicia. “To living.”
Reply
I have to do it. It's not like anyone else is gonna change anything, not while they work for Wolfram and Hart. They don't even know that there's anything to change, not with all their flashy cars and big brains and-- Yeah, I'm kinda bitter about that. Not the money - that ship has well and truly sailed. The selling out. The working for evil. I don't get how any of them could possibly think it was a good idea, though it figures that Wesley would see right through it even without holding a full deck of cards.
Lindsey tries to make a toast while Alicia's trying to steal the fortune cookies and I grin when he falters, looking to Wesley. We always did look to Wesley for stuff like this, oddly enough. Angel was okay at toasts but more often than not? He said something dumb. Or something that'd set Wes' allergies off.
“You’ve no idea what to say, don’t you?” Wes asks, shooting Lindsey an amused glance. I smile. It's not exactly a regular thing seeing lawyer boy speechless, but I'm not gonna turn down that opportunity.
“How about it? Some of us aren’t like, y’know, a hang-out sign.” Says Alicia, letting out a mass protest when Wes pats her head. The hair, Wes! It's all about the hair, I think when her other hand comes up to pat it down, her gaze going straight to mine. Is it okay? Is there a hair out of place? Poor kid is starved for a little female affection in this place so I nod and wink at her, before glancing at Wes as he makes his toast.
“To living,” he says and I realise that since I walked in, they've done nothing but make me comfortable, set me at ease, include me in this little picture of happiness.
"To family." I add, because for tonight, I can pretend.
Tomorrow, it'll all be different. There'll be pain and heartache and even if Wes doesn't hate me for the things I did before - for abandoning him and sleeping with Connor and killing Lilah - he'll hate me for ruining what he has here. Not with Lindsey - even from an outsiders point of view, that looks strong enough to survive. They love each other, any idiot could see that. But the rest of it. Coming here and talking to him as if everything were normal. Eating dinner, laughing with his girls... All too normal and tomorrow--
I take a sip of the champagne and swallow hard, taking the opportunity to steal a fortune cookie and slide it Alicia's way while I think Wes and Lindsey aren't looking. Apparently they were 'cause Wes gives me this stern look and I smile innocently while Alicia folds it into her napkin. "What?"
Reply
I try my best, and Wesley is nothing if not a devoted dad, but neither of us are exactly gurus when it comes to understanding the minds of little girls. I can think of more than a few miscommunications ("Lipstick. Not lipgloss. Jeez, Lindsey...") that could've been avoided by Cordelia's presence around here.
"To living," says Wes, raising his glass, and I'll sure as hell drink to that. It's a fine line between surviving and actually living, and it's so damn easy to get caught up in just keeping your head above water. In just staying alive. And that's no way to live, really.
"To family," Cordelia chimes in, and I nod happily. I've missed having a family.
Sipping the champagne and savouring the bubbles that explode against my lips, the strangest thing is running through my thoughts. Holland Manners, of all people, asked me a question once. Maybe it was the fact that I didn't have the slightest damn clue what he was talking about at the time, or maybe it was the guard holding a loaded gun standing behind him, but the answer that he gave me always stayed in my mind. He asked me if I believed in love.
"I'm not speaking romantically," he had clarified at my puzzled look. "I'm talking about that sharp, clear sense of self a man gains once he's truly found his place in the world."
And you know something? Right here, surrounded by friends and people who care about me, grinning into my champagne glass, I think I get that thing about love now.
Reply
Leave a comment