"They know," I say.
He exhales once, and then the corner of his mouth pulls up in the way it does when he wants to put me at peace. "Well, if they know, then there's no point in us hiding this from them anymore."
He reaches down and takes my hand.
Just like that, he reaches down and entwines our fingers the way it does when we're alone and he wants me to know he's there, except we're standing in the middle of The Café on a Saturday morning where no fewer than six people I recognize can see us, and he is not letting go.
I look down at our hands and then back up at him, and something in my chest that has been wound tight for weeks and weeks just releases. "Okay," I say quietly.
"Okay," he agrees, and we walk toward our mothers.
They see us coming, and the look that passes between Ruby Harrison and Patty Keller is the look of two women who have been waiting on something for a very long time and have just watched it arrive at their table holding hands. My mom's hand goes to her mouth for just a second before she pulls it back, and Patty's eyes go bright with tears that she doesn't even try to hide.
"Well," my mom says, when we stop at the booth. "Sit down."
We slide in together on one side, which means I'm tucked between Dakota and the window. He slings his arm around my neck and his knee is against mine under the table. The two of them are looking at us with the kind of expressions that mothers get when they've been proven right about something they've been patient about for a very long time.
"How long?" Patty asks, getting directly to the point in the way that I have always appreciated about her.
"Not like you don’t already fuckin’ know. But officially? About six months," Dakota says. "We've been taking our time with it."
"Taking your time," my mom repeats, and there's something dry in it that tells me she's been sitting on some opinions. "Is that what we're calling it these days?”
"Ruby." Patty gives her a look.
"I'm not being critical," my mom says, and holds up a hand. "I'm being a mother. There's a difference." She looks at me, and her eyes are soft even if her tone is pointed. "I just want to understand why the two of you felt like you had to keep this to yourselves."
I reach for the coffee cup in front of me, hoping it already has liquid in it. "Because it was ours," I tell her, and I mean it in the simplest, most honest way I know how. "It didn’t start out as something serious, but it’s turned into that. We just wanted time with it before everyone else had an opinion about it."
My mom considers that, and I can see her brain working, trying to understand our reasons. I can see when she understands exactly what I just said, because Ruby Harrison has never been a woman that’s not intelligent. Her eyes meet mine, and she smiles softly.
"Lucy figured it out for sure," Patty says ruefully. “After we painted with you,” she nods her head at me. "She told me her thoughts, I called Ruby, and here we are. Plus he," she points over to Dakota. “Was so non-committal when I asked him before. I was willing to take him at face value, but Lucy was not.”
"Of course she did," Dakota says, not unkindly. "I don't know why I thought she'd hold that for any length of time."
"She held it for a while," Patty says. "She suspected it from the time y’all went bowling. Give her some credit."
A laugh works its way out of me before I can stop it, and Dakota squeezes my hand under the table.
"She adores you," Patty says to me. Her voice warms my chest, and the tightness I’ve had with our secret, loosens. "She has for years. I think that's part of why she's so happy about this. It's not just that she loves Dakota. It's that she loves you too, and she wants the people she loves to be happy. We all love you."
I don't have an immediate response to that, so I take a sip of my coffee and let the words sink in.
The waitress comes by and we order. Our mother’s asking us a few more questions about our relationship. Before we can get too deep into it, our food shows up. The bacon and eggs that arrive in front of me are exactly what I needed even though I didn't know it when I walked in, and the Saturday morning crowd around us is doing its usual thing, the low hum of Laurel Springs going about its weekend.
Then my mom sets her fork down and looks at me with the particular expression that tells me she's arrived at the thing she's been circling since we sat down.
"The only thing I keep coming back to," she says, measuring her words, "is your dad."
I knew this was coming. I've known it was coming since before I even told Dakota I had feelings for him, if I'm honest with myself, because my dad is not a complicated man but he is a particular one, and I am his daughter. It doesn’t matter how old I am, I’m his little girl, and he’s way overprotective. "I know," I say.
"You know how he is about you." She isn't criticizing him when she says it, she's just stating a fact. "You're always going to be his little girl, Molly. And dating someone in law enforcement, someone who carries a weapon and puts himself in situations that are?—"
"Mom." I keep my voice even. "I know what Dakota's job is. I know what it looks like on the hard days, I know what it costs, and I know what it asks of the people who love the people who do it. I'm not going into this without understanding what I'm choosing."
Dakota doesn't say anything beside me, but I feel the shift in him, the way he goes a little more still, and I know he's listening to every word. He tucks me closer beside him, and I sink into his warmth.
"I'm not telling you not to be with him," my mom says, and she reaches across the table and puts her hand over mine. "I'm telling you that when we do this, when we tell your father and we make it official with the family, we need to think about how we do it. He's going to need a minute, and the best way to give him that minute is to not blindside him."