7. Astrid
seven
Astrid
Three Months Later
I haven’t seen Brennan in person for nearly three months.
I’m surprised at how badly I’ve missed him. We’re getting together after we both have dinner with our families and I can’t wait.
He’s been stuck in Silicon Valley, knee-deep in some new acquisition and his communication with me has waned a bit. Oh, we still text or talk on the phone every day or so—and I get it, he’s too busy for more. One of the reasons he’s so fascinating is his mind is always churning.
It’s weird, though. I’m not gonna lie. Until this particular trip, we’d been practically joined at the textual hip, even when he traveled. This time, when my clever messages go unanswered, it bums me out.
It sucks to feel ignored, but I let it slide. It’s blatantly apparent the man has no concept of time. He doesn’t realize he’s being inconsiderate. As frustrating as he can be, time-blindness is a thing. I’m not going to change him, so why try?
Now, let it be known, if we were dating , there’s no way I’d put up with this shit. My dating life has been filled with disappointment in this regard. Men who prioritize everything over me and I’m sick of it.
But, we’re not dating. In fact, he hasn’t given me signs he’s interested in a romantic relationship, which is for the best. We’re friends and business partners and Brennan has been honest from the beginning about his schedule. It’s the reason he brought me into Reuniverse. He has enough pressure trying to balance his responsibilities without me piling on.
Anyways, we’re meeting at our usual haunt later and I can’t wait to see him, drink cheap beer, brainstorm plans for Reuniverse, and beat him at pool.
For now, I push those thoughts aside and head into my parents’ house with several bags filled with food. The front door creaks and the house smells like it always does—old wood, dust, and something faintly burnt, probably from my mom’s attempt at breakfast.
It’s been a while since I visited. Brennan is so close with his family he’s inspired me to try to reconnect with mine.
My parents have always worked themselves to the bone, scraping by with low-paying jobs. Mom cleans houses and works at a shipping company. Dad also works maintenance. You’d think the house would be utter perfection with their skill sets, but no, it’s the polar opposite.
Most of the walls are yellowed from age and cigarette smoke. The floorboards creak with every step and the furniture is well worn, sagging in places. My mom and dad spend their lives making everyone else’s property sparkle, and spend no energy doing it for themselves.
I’ve tried to buy them new stuff. Offered, even, to buy them a new home—something where the roof doesn’t leak and the plumbing doesn’t groan every time you turn on the sink.
My dad won’t hear of it. He’s proud of this house, even if it’s falling apart. Saving enough money to buy it is his greatest accomplishment. There’s no point in making either of them feel bad for how they choose to live.
Who am I to judge?
My altruism does not extend to my sisters, Nora and Lark. Nora’s battle with addiction has cast a shadow over our lives for too long. No one’s heard from her since she ditched rehab two months ago. Lark, with her aversion to working and propensity for not using birth control, lives here rent free. She’s not pregnant again, thank God.
Peeking through the kitchen into the living room, I bear witness to a tornado. Baileigh, my twelve-year-old niece, is sprawled on the couch, phone glued to her hand. Jaxson and Kayleigh chase each other around the living room, screaming bloody murder. Mom screams at them to settle down, to no avail.
“Hey, everyone, I’m here.” I wave from the doorway.
“Oh, look. It’s Auntie A,” Baileigh sneers. “You’re late.”
God, her tone grates. She’s exactly like her mother. Ungrateful A.F. “Nice to see you too, Bay.”
“Auntie A.” Jax races up, his sticky hands immediately reaching for the bags. “Whatcha bring?”
“Dinner and some snacks.” I hold them a little higher. “How about you wait until we all sit down.”
“Aw, come on!” He hops up like a rabid bunny, his energy out of control like always. Kayleigh is behind him and snatches one of the bags out of my hand, rummaging through it before I can stop her.
“Kids, sit down!” Mom’s voice cracks through the noise, but neither of them listens. Instead, they tear into a bag of Sunchips like wild animals.
Lark ambles in, ignoring the commotion like it’s got nothing to do with her. “Wassup?”
“I brought dinner.” I try not to sound annoyed. “Baileigh, do you want to help me plate?”
She glances at me with disdain. “Uh, no .”
On cue, Jax rips open the bag of chips and it explodes, bits scatter all over the floor.
My patience is already worn thin and I haven’t been here five minutes. I’m gonna snap, I swear to God. This is how it always is—Lark barely lifts a finger while the rest of us try to corral her feral children and keep the house from falling apart. The kids have no manners and she doesn’t bother disciplining them. Trying to instill any sort of order is fighting a losing battle.
Why the fuck do I bother?
“Hey, Dad.” I practically tackle him with a hug as he walks into the room. He’s not very emotive, but the one of my family who seems to like me.
“Astrid.” He embraces me tightly. “You didn’t have to bring all this. Having you here is all we need.”
I shrug, trying to keep things light. “I don’t mind, I thought it would be nice to enjoy a family dinner together once in a while.”
“Appreciated.” He smiles and wanders over to his place at the table.
I brought a couple of roast chickens, some potatoes, and green beans. Save for a couple of staples, I’m not a great cook but I can plate like a boss. Not that anyone notices. The meal is the usual circus. Kids shouting over each other. Food flying everywhere. Lark ignoring them while Mom tries to restore some order.
I can’t help but wonder if Brennan’s McGloughlin family dinners are equally chaotic.
Somehow, I doubt it.
Half hour later, everyone is at the couch watching TV except me and Lark, who remain at the table. When I approach to clear the dishes, she drops her fork on her plate like I’m a busser at a restaurant.
“Must be nice, huh? Living on your fancy houseboat while the rest of us deal with reality.” She picks her teeth with her nail.
There it is. The healthy dose of resentment bubbling under the surface is about to explode. My sister has a permanent chip on her shoulder when it comes to me. She thinks everything I’ve worked for was handed to me like a present.
“Listen…”
From his recliner, Dad catches my eye and shakes his head, subtly encouraging me to let it go.
And, you know what, he’s right. I want to go. As in leave. Immediately.
I’m trying, but things never change. Why come here to be met with bitterness and resentment? I grit my teeth and swallow the urge to snap back.
My mom gets up from the couch to help me with the dishes. “You know,” she looks down at the platter she’s scrubbing, “we haven’t seen much of you for years. Don’t think coming around with a store-bought chicken like you’re some savior makes you a good daughter.”
Jesus Christ.
“I am a good daughter.” I try to tamp my frustration down. “My intentions are pure.”
She shakes her head. “Bullshit. From the time you started school, you’ve always been embarrassed by your own family.”
“What?” I bite my lip and nearly draw blood in my attempt not to scream. “That’s not true.”
“It is and you shouldn’t bother being fake. None of us want or need your charity.” She wipes down the counter. I know she means it and it hurts.
As usual, I find myself wondering why the hell I try. I have no idea why my own family doesn’t want anything to do with me. I finish drying the dishes in silence, my mind already at The Zoo, where I’m meeting Brennan soon.
I suck it up for a while but once everyone is in front of the TV, it’s like I’m invisible. I slip out without saying goodbye. I’m frustrated. Completely on edge. My heart aches. My head is pounding. I feel like I’m going to throw up my dinner. I’ve always wanted my family to accept me and I always find myself on my own.
Why am I never enough?
Before I know it, I’m nearly home. I’m going to be late if I park at the slip and walk up to the bar. On the other hand, my mood has turned to shit and all I want to do is curl up in bed and cry. The fresh air will help clear my head and hopefully I’ll be in a better frame of mind by the time I meet Brennan.
Twenty minutes later, I’m still worked up when I push through the door to The Zoo. I spot Brennan immediately. He’s standing by our usual pool table with a pitcher of beer and two full glasses. The moment he sees me, his face changes—like he knows I’m in distress without me having to say a word.
Brennan rushes to my side and for the first time in months, I don’t have to hold everything together.
“Hey.” His arms wrap around me and I sob into his shoulder.
It’s been months since we’ve touched and it’s never been like this. He holds me tight. One hand strokes my shoulder while the other cups the back of my head. I’ve never felt safer. More cared for.
“I’m fine.” My words come out shaky, though.
Brennan pulls back enough to look at me, his eyes filled with concern. “You don’t have to be fine. Not with me, A.”
His words are like a release valve. Tears stream down my face and I don’t even care we’re in public. I’ve been strong for so long but now, in his arms, I don’t want to be.
“I had a rough day,” I admit quietly, leaning into his chest. “My family…it’s so hard.”
Brennan’s hand glides soothingly up and down my back. “I get it. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
The moment stretches between us, thick with emotion. Without thinking it through, I gaze up at him. He’s already looking down at me, his expression heated, but tentative. For an instant, neither of us moves. The air between us is charged with an energy we’ve been dancing around for months.
Then he presses his lips against mine.
The kiss is not tentative. Not hesitant. It’s like something inside him has snapped into place and any restraint he’s been clinging to gives way. His soft, firm lips are warm and urgent against mine and both hands cup my face tenderly.
This is the single most intimate moment of my entire life.
I kiss him back enthusiastically. My fingers clutch his shirt, pulling him closer. Any confusion about my feelings for Brennan melt away. Everything we’ve been skirting around for all these months is laid bare.
When we pull apart, panting and a little dazed, he rests his forehead against mine. “God, I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too,” I whisper as my heart pounds in my chest.
Everything shifts in this moment.
Whatever happens next, there’s no going back.