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Forty-Six

“So, you are dating?” Tiff asks.

“We are,” I tell her, raising Fran’s hand in mine and kissing her knuckles.

She presses a hand flat to her stomach, her eyes warm and shining as she peers at me with new eyes. Not new—just sure. She looks at me as she always did, only now with the confidence that I’m looking back.

With the guests gone and the party over and the cleaning crew coming in the morning, my family plus Fran gather as we always do. Still in our party clothes, we sit around the backyard fire pit, the western night sky dark with only half a moon, a scattering of stars, and this fire for light.

“I knew it,” Mom says.

Kailey chuckles. “We kind of all knew it.”

“Wait,” I say. “All of you?”

“Uh, yeah, bruh,” Asher says. “You couldn’t stop looking at her?—”

“You never killed her,” Tiff interjects, to which Ash breathes out a disgusted raspberry .

“You’re an awful actor, son,” Dad says.

I shake my head. “I was just doing my best to stick to the belief I’d been so sure of after Simone.” I swallow, my nerves beating against my insides. This is a strange conversation to have with your entire family.

“We all knew that love isn’t for Callum thing was stupid,” Tiff says—and she’s right, but does she have to imitate my tone in that way?

I breathe out a shaky voice. I have turned my one-eighty—and I’m not turning back.

“Fran knew it too,” I say, peering over at the woman who has so wholly stolen my heart.

Her strength, kindness, and outlook on life won me over, but it may have been her faith in love, even her remakes, that sealed the deal.

“She was looking for something while I was ready to give it all up. I was wrong.”

“And I was right?” Fran leans against me, her hand in mine, her dark lashes fluttering up at me.

“Yeah.” I laugh. “You were right.”

“Your mom was right too,” Fran says, her fingers holding onto me tighter.

“Feel free to elaborate,” Mom says, her hands in her lap and a grin on her face. “I love it when someone tells my children how right I am.” Mom winks at Fran.

My siblings groan—but I laugh. Isn’t our mother always right?

“You can’t say things like that to her, Fran,” Tiff says.

“You were a little right too,” Fran says, bumping me with her side.

“You don’t need a good luck charm. You’ve always been the best Red Tail.

You just needed to remember that. And you said”—Fran looks over at Mom—“that I wanted a partner, rather than a scene.” Fran swallows.

“You were right. I love a good love story. I believe in happily ever afters. But I don’t need to imitate something on a screen.

” She lifts one shoulder. “I occasionally like that imitation.” She scrunches her nose and looks at Tiff.

“It’s fun.” Her chest falls with breath.

“But need .” She shakes her head. “No, I don’t need it.

” Her eyes lift to mine. “I need Callum.”

It’s a big confession for the declaration that we made a mere three hours ago.

But then, we are having this conversation with my entire family—so maybe our relationship is at warp speed.

Maybe it’s always been. Maybe my feelings for Fran, the pull between us, the deep, meaningful connection we’ve made have simply been real all along.

No remakes needed.