"Sometimes love is not enough."
With a complicated relationship with her mother, a loud household, an unrequited love and a scholarship to get, Iris Kingston thinks she already has enough on her plate.
But life has a wicked sense of humor, doesn'...
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6 years later
Asher's POV:
"I'll call you later Angel, kiss little Maya for me."
"May the road rise up to meet you, Aurélien Gerarde." She responded in an Irish accent. And I knew she was referring to our favorite book at the moment. It was about a family of circus performers who traveled around Europe in the 1780s. It a beautiful book written by a girl named 'Belle King' ,Angel found it in the website she helped designing the new version of a few years ago.
I smiled at the reference then hung up and took a deep breath, preparing myself for what became the traditional Thanksgiving between the Kingstons and the Parkers.
It was embarrassing, really, to be a grown man and still feel nervous over a simple dinner with people I know.
Even though those people include her, and you still don't know how to act around her. I murmured inaudibly to myself.
I threw my shoulders back, smoothed my shirt and passed a hand through my hair like I used to do as a teenager, then rearrange it quickly.
Why would I go back to being that lonely broken scarred boy?
I mean don't get me wrong, I respect the kid, after all he turned out to be who I am today, healed, independent and happy surrounded by people I love. But I guess sometimes I feel nostalgic to how passionate I was, about poetry, love. Now the only reminder I have of that time are a few poetry books on my nightstand, and a few photos in my drawer. I guess that's what being an adult is, it strips you of that drive and feeling of being infinite yet so small.
Look at me, going poetic on the porch of my ex's house.
I quickly knock, and this time truly fight the urge to run a hand through my hair out of nervousness. To my utter relief, my mother answered the door and engulfed me in a hug that made me feel like a little boy again. I sank into her arms then pull back to look at her. Even with the few gray hairs at her right temple and the few lines at the corners of her moist eyes, she was still beautiful, that fire still burning bright in her pupils.
