Chapter 9 - THE HONEST START
Marissa pulled her car into the crowded parking lot of the Eastside Community Center.
The building was old brick, covered in faded murals. Children were running across the grass, laughing and chasing a soccer ball.
Marissa’s heart hammered against her ribs. She stepped out of the car, clutching the wooden cardinal in her coat pocket.
She walked into the noisy gymnasium. It smelled of floor wax and old sneakers. In the far corner, a group of teenagers were painting a set for a play.
And standing on a ladder, wearing faded jeans, a cheap white t-shirt, and holding a paintbrush, was Thomas.
He looked entirely different.
The expensive haircut was gone. The designer clothes were gone. He had a faint shadow of a beard, and his arm was bound in a thick sling.
He looked tired. He looked broke.
He looked beautiful.
Marissa walked slowly across the gym floor.
One of the kids yelled, “Hey, Thomas, we need more blue!”
Thomas turned his head to look down from the ladder.
When he saw Marissa standing there, the paintbrush slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor.
He stared at her, utterly paralyzed.
Marissa didn’t say anything. She just stood at the bottom of the ladder, looking up at him. She didn’t try to pull her hair over her cheek. She let him see all of her.
Slowly, awkwardly, Thomas climbed down the ladder one-handed.
He stood a few feet away from her, his chest rising and falling heavily.
“You shouldn’t be here, Marissa,” he said roughly. His voice was thick with emotion.
“Why not?” she asked, stepping closer.
“Because I’m a liar,” he said, looking at the floor. “Because I brought violence to your mother’s house. Because my real name is Thomas, I don’t have a dime to my name, and my father is going to federal prison.”
“I know all of that,” Marissa said quietly.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out the wooden bird.
She held it out between them.
Thomas looked at the bird, his eyes filling with tears.
“You carved this,” Marissa said.
“I wanted to give you something real,” he whispered. “Before I left. Something that didn’t belong to Richard or my father.”
“You took a hit from an iron poker for me,” Marissa stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “You put your body between me and a gun. You gave up your father’s empire to protect my family.”
Thomas finally looked up, meeting her eyes.
“I would die for you, Marissa. I meant it when I said I loved you. It was the only true thing in my life.”
Marissa reached out. She gently placed her hand on his cheek, feeling the rough stubble of his jaw.
Thomas closed his eyes, leaning into her touch, a solitary tear escaping and rolling down his face.
“I know,” Marissa said softly. “I know you do.”
“I’m so sorry,” he choked out. “I wanted to give you the perfect engagement. I wanted to give you the fairy tale.”
“I don’t want a fairy tale,” Marissa smiled, wiping the tear from his cheek with her thumb. “Fairy tales are fake. I want something real. Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s hard.”
Thomas opened his eyes, looking at her with a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming hope.
“You can forgive me?” he asked.
“I can,” Marissa said. “But there are new rules.”
Thomas let out a wet, breathless laugh. “Anything. Name them.”
“No more Graham,” she said firmly. “I date Thomas. We start over. From the beginning. You take me to coffee. You pay with your own money. We tell each other the truth. Every single day. No secrets.”
Thomas looked at her, his expression softening into pure, unadulterated adoration.
“I can do that,” he whispered.
“Good,” Marissa said.
She leaned forward and kissed him.
It wasn’t the picture-perfect, rehearsed kiss they had shared as 'fiancés'. It was real. It was slightly awkward because of his sling, it tasted like tears and cheap coffee, and it was the best kiss of her life.
Across the gym, the teenagers started cheering and whistling.
Marissa pulled back, laughing, her face flushed red.
Thomas smiled, wrapping his good arm tightly around her waist, pulling her against his chest as if he never intended to let go.
Six months later, they sat at my kitchen table.
I was pulling a roast chicken out of the oven. The smell of mashed potatoes and apple pie filled the house.
Thomas was sitting next to Marissa, laughing as he clumsily tried to peel an apple with his left hand.
Marissa was glowing. The birthmark on her face was fully visible, framed by a new, confident haircut.
There was no expensive diamond ring on her finger. Just a simple, braided leather band they had bought together at a farmer's market.
They weren't rushing into marriage. They were building something real, one honest day at a time.
I set the chicken on the table. Thomas immediately stood up and pulled out Marissa’s chair.
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When she smiled at him, he smiled back like she was the only woman in the world.
And this time, I knew he meant it.
