Five minutes (that actually felt like five hours) later, we took the cups of tea and plate of cookies back into the living room. I felt the tension as soon as we entered the room and my eyes fastened on Clay in apprehension. I had been surprised to see that he looked…well…okay. Both he and my dad looked up when we placed the stuff on the coffee table. I chanced a glance at my dad and he seemed rigid but at least he wasn’t angry.

I had been dying to know what was said, but I figured I’d have to wait until later. For the time being, conversation had drifted into how Ruby’s shop was doing. Whether it had been hard for Clay readjusting to life in a small town. My parents had asked him questions about Florida without outright demanding information concerning the facility where he had lived for three months.

Their questions instead consisted of that sneaky, underhanded method of information gathering that they had recently adopted. Because Clay began to offer up tidbits about his time at the Grayson Center that he hadn’t even told me. He shared about how difficult it had been to keep up with school, having only two hours a day to cram it all in. He talked a bit about the people he met there, speaking at length about his roommate Tyler, who had been there for heroine abuse and paranoid schizophrenia.

I tried not to sit there with my mouth hanging open. Here we were, two months after Clay had returned to Davidson and I barely knew a thing about Grayson or the people he had befriended there. I had felt like the world’s worst girlfriend. But my parents respectfully listened and asked their own questions.

“I’m glad Maggie is seeing your therapist. That was a wonderful thing to suggest,” my mom had said, again flooring me with her understanding. Clay had smiled at me, a soft look on his face as he answered my mother.

“I’m completely invested in making this work. I want Maggie and I to have the kind of relationship that is built totally on trust and support for each other. I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure I’m the best person I can be for her. And for me.” My parents seemed to appreciate his words, though I noticed they still watched the two of us closely.

When it was time for Clay to leave, my mother hugged him and my dad had patted his shoulder. “We’ll see you soon,” Dad had said as I walked Clay out to his car.

“Yes, sir. And thank you, for everything,” Clay told my dad who only nodded. I waited until my parents closed the front door and we were walking down the front path to his car before asking him about his earlier conversation with my dad.

Clay had laughed. “That was killing, you wasn’t it?” I had playfully punched him in the shoulder.

“Tell me! Please!” I whined, making Clay laugh harder.

He had tapped the end of my nose with his finger. “So nosy.” I rolled my eyes.

Clay unlocked his car and turned to lean against it, pulling me between his legs, his arms wrapped around my middle. “He was giving me the dad warning. Letting me know he didn’t want me hurting you again. Threatened bodily harm, you know how it goes,” Clay said lightly and I pinched his side, knowing he was messing with me.

“Ouch, okay.” Clay had sobered and pulled me tightly against his chest. He looked down into my upturned face and kissed me on the lips. “He told me that what happened before had hurt you deeply. That they had been terrified for you and it had been the most helpless he has ever felt as your father. He told me that he would not watch you go through that again, even if that meant being the bad guy and keeping us apart.” I sucked in a breath, scared and shocked by my father’s candor with Clay. Though I should have expected it.

Clay had kissed the top of my head. “I told him that I understood and that is why I hadn’t contacted you while I was in treatment. I was convinced that staying away was the best thing for you. That you needed to live your life without me in it.” His grip around my body had become tighter and his voice broke.

“But I then told your dad that I now knew living my life without you wasn’t an option. And that is why I was taking my medication, going to therapy, doing whatever I had to do to make sure the life we have together is a good one and that it makes you happy. Because there is nothing more important to me than your happiness.” My eyes had stung with tears and I pulled up on my tip toes, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

He had held me for a long time, tasting me, caressing my lips with his. Our tongues tangled in a dance of total love. When we pulled away he had run his hand down the side of my face.

“I love you, Maggie May Young,” he had whispered.

“And I love you, Clayton Reed,” I responded with equal ardor.

After Clay had left and I went back inside, my parents didn’t discuss Clay’s visit. But I felt the ice thaw and I knew that while they didn’t necessarily trust Clay, they at least respected where he was coming from.

Saturday night dates quickly became a regular occurrence. It was as though Clay were making up for lost time. Sometimes he took me to dinner. Sometimes it was a movie. Sometimes we went hiking in the afternoon and had a picnic. Other times we met up with Rachel and Daniel and went to the mall.

It was all so normal. So teenage. I felt better knowing that Clay was consistently taking his medications. He had to take them at lunch time and he did so every day without fail. He didn’t make a show of it, but he never hid it from me either.

How did we ever get so lucky as to be in this place together? It was like a dream. I was terrified that I would wake up and everything had popped like a bubble and Clay would be gone and I would be alone and all of this would be nothing more than a massive delusion.