Page 60 of Notes About Vodka (Happily Ever After Hangover #1)

Chapter Thirty-Two

LAURA

“What’s vodka’s favorite musical instrument? The glass-harmonica!”

I lean back in my chair, the hum of the research lab a familiar comfort.

A notification dings, and I glance down to see it’s another message from Val.

He’s back in NYC while I finish my final week in Baltimore, but he finds ways to keep me close.

Today, it’s a delivery with my name on it, right to the lab.

I peel back the bag and grin—a full lunch, my favorite sandwich, a little dessert, and a note that says, “Until I can make you lunch myself.”

I snap a picture and send it to him.

Me: How’d you know I was starving? I’ve been running on caffeine and stubbornness for hours.

Val: I know you too well. But maybe this is a sign… Lunch before co ffee?

Me: Pushing your luck, Mister. But I guess I’ll allow it today.

It feels easy between us now. We’ve finally moved past our first real argument, and every little gesture Val makes reminds me of his willingness to listen and learn.

Despite his humor, he's worked hard to understand why I got so hurt back in June, and now we’re finding ways to communicate that actually work.

Even if it means being more honest and vulnerable than either of us is used to.

After this internship it’ll be time to head south for one more trip before school starts back. It’s going to finally be my last year as an undergraduate student.

First, I’m taking Val to Hurtsboro, Alabama, then Wilks, Florida, where he will finally meet my large, extended family. Meaning, my grandparents! He couldn’t go back in June, but I know he’s going to love it there.

The thought of introducing him both excites and terrifies me, but Val's been in the loop for months when I talk to my family on the phone.

Me: By the way, are you ready for southern hospitality at its finest?

Val: As long as there’s sweet tea and front porches, I’m all in.

My internship is over and we’re driving in the car we rented from Atlanta down dusty dirt roads leading to my childhood home.

Even though it’s late July, the air feels thick, and every landmark brings back a memory: the field we’d run through as kids, the creek where we’d wade to cool off, and the trailer park nestled between towering pines and peanut farms.

I catch Val’s face as he takes it all in, his eyes widening slightly.

“This is it,” I say, a little breathless. “Welcome to my world.”

We step out of the car, and the family practically pours out of trailers and Jim Walter homes on stilts to greet us—aunts, uncles, cousins, neighbors, and a few folks who’ve known me since I was in diapers.

Val’s hand rests firmly in mine, but he’s all smiles and southern charm, effortlessly blending in with everyone.

As the family gathers around us, there are a cacophony of hugs, handshakes, and laughter.

My cousin Gabby nudges me with a grin, “You really snagged yourself a city boy, huh?”

I laugh. “Something like that.”

Our days in Wilks are a whirlwind of family, food, and Florida sunshine.

After settling in, we head straight for Panama City Beach to explore.

The coastline stretches out before us, golden sand meeting clear blue waters.

We stroll along the shore, the salty air and sound of the waves filling the silence.

Val’s eyes widen at the beauty of it, and I find myself explaining little details about the place I’d never thought to mention before—the way the dolphins swim near the jetties or how the sun sets perfectly over the Gulf.

We spend a good part of the day at St. Andrew’s State Park, where the jetties stretch far out into the water.

The tide pools are teeming with small fish, crabs, and starfish.

Val’s face lights up every time we spot something new.

We sit on the rocks, the sun beaming down on us, our feet dangling in the water as we watch dolphins surf the waves just offshore. Val turns to me, squeezing my hand.

"You were right about this place," he says, his voice low with awe.

We lose track of time, talking about everything—our childhoods, our dreams, and the ridiculous idea of getting a dog one day. His presence is a calm anchor in the flurry of my emotions, the connection between us growing deeper with each passing moment.

The next day, back in Wilks, the family gathers at my grandfather’s place for a good old-fashioned fish fry. The smell of grilled meat, old bay seasoning, and vegetables fill the air as we toss around stories and laughter.

Val fits right in, making everyone laugh with his easygoing nature and his attempt at southern cooking, which is met with some good-natured teasing. He even manages to impress a few of my uncles with his (slightly exaggerated) love for fried okra.

Later that evening, we decide to pack up and head to Hurtsboro to see my dad, Barbara, and Leigha. The drive is filled with a quiet kind of anticipation, and I can feel a knot form in my stomach at the thought of returning home. It’s been a long time since I’ve been back to visit.

When we pull into my dad’s driveway, the familiar sight of the trailer park feels both comforting and suffocating. I’m not sure if it’s the weight of the memories or the anticipation of seeing daddy, but I take a deep breath as I step out of the car.

Daddy and Barbara are already outside, waving us over with big smiles. Before I can even say hello, I spot Leigha sprinting out from behind them.

“Laura!” she shouts, half-tackling me in a hug before pulling back to look me over, hands on her hips like she’s about to deliver some kind of evaluation. “Well, well, look who finally decided to come back to the boondocks!”

She teases, throwing a wink at Val, who’s watching this whole scene unfold with an amused smirk.

“Leigha, go easy,” I laugh, hugging her back. But Leigha’s already moved on, eyes fixed on Val. She narrows them in recognition, a sly grin spreading across her face.

“Ohhhh, Val! About time Laura brought you home,” she says, giving him a dramatic once-over. “Lookin’ a bit leaner, though, huh? Guess Laura’s not feeding you right.”

She gives a playful pout, shaking her head.

Val, to his credit, just chuckles, going along with her antics. “Trust me, Leigha, I’ve got more than enough food. Laura’s actually taught me how to make a few Southern dishes myself.”

“Oh? You mean you’re practically Southern now?” she jokes, raising an eyebrow. “Let me guess…you say ‘y’all’ too?”

Val shoots her a grin. “Only when I want to impress you, Leigha.”

She cackles, clearly pleased, then glances at me with a glint in her eye. “Watch out, Laura, he’s smooth. Better keep an eye on this one!”

Leigha finally steps back, thankfully cooling off her relentless teasing, but I can tell she’s got more in store. It’s just her style—never one to hold back, always pushing buttons for a reaction. But at least today, she’s keeping the chaos to a minimum. For now, anyway.

We settle into the evening, the family grilling and catching up, the air thick with laughter and the sound of sizzling meat.

It’s easy to slip into the rhythm of things here—talking about the weather, the latest gossip from town, and all the little things that seem so important when you’re back home. Val fits in perfectly.

But as the evening winds down, James calls me.

“Hey,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve got something to tell you. ”

I look at the phone, a little confused.

“Your mom’s moving to Montana,” James continues, his voice low. “She’s going to live with your Aunt Debbie and her partner, Willow.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, I can’t find anything to say. The shock of it hits me in waves. I always knew that my mom had plans to leave, but I never expected it to be this abrupt. I nod slowly, letting it all sink in.

“I think it’s for the best,” I say, finally finding my voice. “But it’s...weird.” The last word feels too small to encapsulate what I’m feeling. There’s relief, sure, but there’s also a pang of sadness. I’ve spent so many years being caught between trying to help her and needing to let go.

You did the right thing,” James says quietly over the phone. “You’ve taken care of your mom, now it’s time to take care of yourself.”

I let out a long breath, the weight of everything finally starting to settle, the guilt burying into my bones. “Yeah,” I say softly, more to myself than to him. “I have.”

Back in NYC, life picks up again, and the routine Val and I settled into starts shifting as things change around us.

It’s as if the beginning of the summer didn’t even happen as we move into the hot, humid August weather. A year from when our story started and Val still complains about being overheated when we walk around Central Park.

Lately, I’ve been trying to talk him into getting us a puppy. He’s being difficult, but I know he will give in. After all, I’m his world and he is mine, too.

Rhea and Sebastian are also on the move, which feels like another wave of change crashing in. They’re back from Indonesia and heading towards New Orleans next—Sebastian’s got a photography gig there, and Rhea’s looking to expand her newfound love of teaching the arts.

“You two should come visit us there,” Rhea says as we all share one last dinner together at our favorite ramen spot. Her eyes are bright with excitement, and she clings to Sebastian’s arm as she talks about their plans.

“Seriously,” Sebastian adds, nodding. “The art scene there is incredible. You’d love it, Laura. And Val, they’ve got great food—Cajun, Creole, everything. We’ll show you all the best spots.”

Val raises an eyebrow, looking intrigued. “Cajun, huh? I might have to take you up on that.”

“We’d love to visit,” I say, smiling at them both.

It’s bittersweet seeing them head off again—they’ve been all over, but every time they come back, it’s like no time has passed at all.

Still, I can’t help but admire their adventurous spirits, and it makes me realize how much our group is starting to grow in different directions.