My father leans over the table, eyes drilling into Chase. It’s Sunday evening, and we’re all sitting around the table for dinner. The first course has been served, but Dad hasn’t taken a single bite.

“What’s the most valuable thing you’ve recovered?” he asks Chase, completely fascinated by Chase’s past as a bounty hunter.

“That depends,” Chase says and rests his hand on my thigh, “on what you consider valuable.”

“You should tell him about the boat in Scotland,” I say and take a drink of wine.

“That was fun,” Chase says and goes into detail, starting with the sketchy plane ride in a small aircraft. My entire family is enamored, not eating as they listen to Chase talk about his crazy adventures.

Across the table, Lisa catches my eye. She picks up her wine and gives me a small toast. I relax in my chair and put my hand on top of Chase’s. He’s still not ‘ideal’ as my mother told me just hours ago, but knowing the truth behind his record has cleared the tension. And now Dad won’t leave Chase alone and keeps firing off question after question.

We have dessert on the patio and the kids swim while the adults sip drinks. I watch my nieces and nephew splashing in the water, laughing and having the time of their lives. My mom and sister are in the pool with them, laughing just as much. It’s one of the rare times I see my mother let loose and act like a normal human being, not caring about her hair or makeup, or the opinions of others.

Will I be able to interact with my mother like that when I have kids? Maybe we’ll get along better when we can bond over the baby. It might be wrong, but I feel like she’ll like me better if I give her more grandchildren.

“You’ll have one someday,” Chase says, reading my mind. He’s not supposed to go swimming yet, so we’re sitting by the edge of the pool with our feet in the water.

“Someday,” I repeat, feeling the painful tug on my heart. What could have been weighs heavily on me, and perhaps it always will. Though this time, there is a promise of happiness in the future.

He puts his arm around me and kisses my forehead. “I hope we have a girl. And she looks just like you.”

I smile. “I’d like that. And if we have a boy, I imagine him looking just like you. But no tattoos until he’s thirty.”

Chase laughs. “You won’t be happy to know I got my first tattoo when I was fifteen.”

“That’s not legal, is it?”

“No. A friend’s brother did it in his garage. It was terrible.”

“Can I see it?”

“Kind of.” He pulls the sleeve up his left shoulder. “It’s been covered up. That’s how bad it was.”

I laugh and bring my face to his, running a hand through his wavy hair. We stay at my parents’ until everyone leaves and go back to my house for the night.

“Now that you’re the owner of The Book Bag,” Chase starts, pulling down the sheets and getting into bed, “are you going to set different hours? You’re not exactly an early riser,” he teases.

“I totally would. But I think most people would argue ten o’clock isn’t early.”

“It’s not. I’ll come in with you. As your business partner, I’ll make a sacrifice and get up along with you.”

“You better, or you’re fired.” I get under the covers next to Chase. The Book Bag is going on, business as usual, just with a new owner. Chase is going to help me get things started and will work the register so I can handle the legal parts of becoming a shop owner.

He reaches over and takes two books off the nightstand and hands one to me. I take a minute to admire him and let this moment sink in. We’ve been through a lot together in a short amount of time. I might never find a reason to explain why the bad things happened, or why the good ones continue to come. The loss is still painful for the both of us. The mistakes we’ve both made saliently sit just below the surface, reminding us that we’re both human.

Bad things happen.

But good things do too.

There are no reasons. No way to know why life unfolds the way it does.

All I know is right here, right now in this moment…things are as close to perfect as they are going to get. Chase is in my bed with a good book. I don’t think I’m ever getting out.

And I’m okay with that.