The Only Exception

Although Sunday knew that she was going to enjoy sharing the house with Alex, there were a few things that she hadn't thought about. For example, she didn't think that he would walk into the bathroom whenever he felt like it, especially when she had notified him that she would be taking a shower.

"Alex!" Sunday squealed, hurriedly wrapping a towel around herself. "What are you doing?"

He looked completely perplexed. "Brushing my teeth?" he responded, holding up the toothbrush clutched in his hand.

She simply huffed at him and high-tailed it out of the bathroom and into the walk in closet. Once the door was firmly locked behind her, she pulled on a pair of dark jeans and a dark green, cashmere turtleneck. It was warm and snuggly, and very Christmas appropriate, in Sunday's opinion.

She was pulling on her socks when the handle of the closet jiggled, making her jump. "Did you really lock the closet door?" Alex called from the other side, sounding somewhat amused and a little exasperated.

"Someone doesn't seem to understand the concept of knocking," she shot back. Nonetheless, she unlocked the door for him; however, she quickly wished she hadn't when she discovered he was wearing only a towel slung low on his hips. "Oh dear." She quickly scooted around him and into the wide open space of the bedroom.

"Before we get married, you should probably know that I walk around naked most of the time," Alex declared.

Sunday's face drained of color, and it suddenly became difficult for her to swallow. She tried clearing her throat, but it was useless, and she squeaked, "I think I need some water."

Alex laughed at her. "I was joking," he said. "But all this door locking is going to get a little old."

"I don't like it when people don't knock," Sunday responded in a stubborn fashion. She felt a little child-like for complaining about knocking, but it was important to her. Just like stars and schedules.

Alex bit back a sigh and responded, "All right. I'll try to knock more."

"Thanks," Sunday said, smiling sheepishly.

Once Alex had done his hair (which had taken him longer than Sunday's had taken her), they locked up the house and were once again bound for Mr. and Mrs. Gaskarth's house. The drive was short, only fifteen minutes, but for Sunday, it could have been hours. She didn't hear a single word that Alex had said throughout the short trip, because her mind was racing much too quickly to comprehend anything but her nerves.

"Are you okay, Sun?" Alex asked as he parked in the driveway. There were already numerous different cars that Sunday didn't recognize taking up space around the Gaskarth house.

"What do you think they'll say?" Sunday asked as she nervously toyed with her seat belt.

Alex hesitated. He had been having similar thoughts, wondering which of his family members would be the first to voice their disapproval of his quick engagement. "It doesn't matter," he decided. "The people who do matter will be happy for us, Sun."

She nodded and tried to believe him, but she couldn't. She couldn't because she knew that there were people that mattered to her that most likely wouldn't approve. "Do you think you could give me a minute?" she asked nervously.

"Uh, sure," he shrugged. "Just come in whenever you're ready. He leaned over, kissed her cheek, then exited the car. Once he was inside the house, Sunday pulled out her phone and pressed number three on speed dial.

"Hello, dear!" her grandmother greeted her. "Oh, how are you, darling? I've missed you so! Happy Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Grandma," Sunday responded with a smile. "I actually called because there's something I need to ask you about."

"Yes, darling?"

"How old were you when you married Grandfather?" Sunday inquired.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. Finally, Ann answered, "Very young. I was eighteen. But it was the best decision I've ever made."

Sunday was quiet for a moment, and Ann nervously asked, "Is there a reason you were wondering, sweetheart?"

She bit her lip. "Alex asked me to marry him," she whispered finally. "And I'm thrilled and frightened at the same time."

"Oh, Sunday!" exclaimed Ann. "Congratulations, my dearest! Oh, I cannot wait for you to return to California so that we can start planning at once!"

Although she was still frightened by what it meant to be a wife and what people were going to think of her taking on the job at such a young age, it was a comfort to hear the excitement in her grandmother's voice. She had few friends whose opinions might matter, but it was important to her that her family was in support of their decision. "Thanks, Grandma," she smiled. "I just needed to talk to you. Merry Christmas again."

"Have a wonderful day, my love."

Sunday hung up her cell phone and took a deep breath. She had been engaged in the call for a little over five minutes, but she wasn't sure if she needed more time. She now felt that it would be okay to be Mrs. Alex Gaskarth in California, but throughout her entire trip, she had come to realize that things were very different in Maryland. In some ways, it felt like she couldn't be herself all the time in Maryland.

Her phone buzzed in her small, shaking hand. Alex had sent her a text message, asking if she was almost ready to come inside.

She took a deep, steadying breath. Sunday had always watched movies with courageous heroines and independent princesses, and she had envied them. She had envied them, because in a way, she had always wanted to have the opportunity to be brave and break the stereotype that people prescribed to her.

It seemed like this was as good a chance as any. Sunday took one last sharp breath and let herself out of the car. Without thinking about it too much, she hurried up to the front door and walked inside the house.

The entrance hall was empty, and Sunday whispered, "You're okay," to herself as she hung her jacket up next to Alex's. There was a loud clamor coming from the dining room, and she almost had to force her feet to move her in the direction of the sound. It seemed to take a thousand years for her to reach the dining room, and each step made her hands sweat and her heart gallop nervously. But eventually, she was standing in the doorway of the room, and no one was taking any notice of her.

The ring on her hand felt ridiculously heavy, and she almost wanted to yank it off and shove it into her pocket. But she scolded her inner coward and walked forward, a large smile on her face. Alex was standing by the head of the table, laughing with his parents, and she joined his side.

Alex cleared his throat and pulled Sunday into his side. "Sunday and I have a little something that we want to share with everyone," he announced. A million pairs of eyes fell to the two of them, and Sunday had to think of something else.

She thought of Cygnus, the swan, and the numerous stories that the constellation had inspired over thousands of years. Her favorite was undoubtedly Swan Lake, and she and Henry had seen the ballet once as children. As she looked at Alex and saw his mouth moving, telling everyone that they were getting married, she wondered if he knew that she had danced for fourteen years and that she loved ballet. She wondered if he'd ever go see a ballet with her.

But a small worry erupted in her head. How could she marry him if he didn't know that she loved ballet?

There was silence in the room, and Alex squeezed Sunday a little tighter, sharing in her worry about whether his family was judging them and their feelings for each other. Finally, Melanie exclaimed, "That's so great, guys!" and jumped up to hug the couple. This seemed to yank everyone out of their own heads, and in a moment, Mrs. Gaskarth was crying and telling Sunday how happy she was to have her in the family, and Mr. Gaskarth was clapping Alex on the back.

At some point, Alex directed her into a seat at the table, and pancakes were being shoved in her face. She accepted them and then set about making a face with fruit on them. It reminded her of when she and Henry were children, and the chefs at one of her father's restaurants had let them make faces on the plates with different sauces and glazes.

"Sunday?"

She looked up, unsure of who was speaking to her. It was Alex's grandmother, who was seated across from her. "You mustn't have heard me," she smiled, "I asked if you had any siblings."

"Uh, yes, I did," Sunday nodded, looking at the pancake face again. "A brother. Henry."

"And what does Henry do?" the old lady continued. "Does he live in California as well?"

Sunday couldn't speak. She looked at Alex, her now sad eyes begging him to say something.

"Sunday's brother died a few years ago, Grandma," Alex explained.

"Oh, how awful!" Grandma Gaskarth responded. "May I ask how it happened?"

There was silence around the table. Alex wasn't sure of how to answer the question, although he wished he could have spared Sunday the trouble of discussing Henry. She never discussed how Henry had died with people. The truth was, she had killed him.

It was all my fault, you see, Sunday wanted to say. We were celebrating that night, and I forgot to tell him what time dinner was. So he was out on the road late. And he called. And he didn't realize that the driver of the truck was drunk. And then it hit him. He died, because I didn't remember to tell him about dinner. And we sat at the restaurant waiting for him and his girlfriend for an hour. Until the hospital called. And they were gone.

"Drunk driver," Sunday muttered weakly. "May I be excused?" she asked, looking from Alex to Mrs. Gaskarth.

"Yes, dear, of course," Mrs. Gaskarth said, smiling sadly.

Sunday scooted away from the table, tears blurring her sad green eyes. She didn't feel like it was Christmas. Christmas was spent in Huntington Beach with her mother and father, sometimes Grandma Ann if Sunday was lucky. She missed the sand and the stormy sea. She even missed the rain a little bit.

She had been sitting in the living room with Sebastian for some time when Alex joined her. "You not feeling well today?" he asked as he dropped a kiss on her head and sat down beside her.

Sebastian licked her hand, making Sunday wrinkle her nose. She missed Pepe. "I want to go home," she finally decided.

Because of the divorce, home might not mean Huntington Beach for Sunday anymore. And she realized that. But at that moment, all she wanted was her dog, a telescope, and maybe one of the warm blankets that Grandma Ann was always making.

Alex sighed. He had wanted her to love Maryland, because he loved Maryland. But he understood that he couldn't will Sunday to change the way she felt about California. She was never going to love it any less, and she was always going to feel tethered to the ocean. "Okay," he smiled. "We'll go home. Right after New Years. I promise." He hugged her, and Sunday cried a little bit.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she really missed Pepe.