Chapter 30
What She Wants
Gavin
Sunday afternoon, and I was helping Charisse get ready for dinner with the Doyles when my phone buzzed.
Rebecca: I'm coming by. Want to spend some time with Charisse.
I stared at the message. No, "is that okay?" No, "when works for you?" Just a statement. After weeks of one-word text responses and radio silence, she suddenly wanted to see her daughter.
Gavin: We're heading to the Doyles for Sunday dinner in 20 minutes.
Three dots appeared, then disappeared. Then appeared again.
Rebecca: I'll be there in 10. We can talk before you leave.
I set my phone down and looked at Charisse, who was debating between two shirts.
"Bug, your mom's coming by. She wants to see you."
Charisse's hands stilled on the shirts. "Right now?"
"Yeah. She'll be here in a few minutes."
Something flickered across her face—not excitement, not happiness.
Something closer to resignation. "Do I have to stay with her?
I really want to go to Nonna and Poppy's.
Andi said there was going to be this new thing for me to try—Badgeole or something like that.
" I bit back a smile. Valiant effort on the braciole.
"You don't have to stay if you don't want to. But she wants to spend some time with you."
"She hasn't wanted to spend time with me in like... forever." Charisse went back to her shirts. "I pick this one." She held up the purple one. "Can we still go to dinner?"
"Yeah, bug. We're still going."
Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang. I opened it to find Rebecca on my doorstep—designer jeans, silk blouse, hair and makeup perfect despite the casual Sunday afternoon timing.
"Hi." Her smile was bright, practiced. "Is she ready?"
"Ready for what?"
"I thought we could get ice cream. Maybe go to the park. Spend some quality time together." She looked past me into the house. "Charisse? Sweetheart, come say hi to Mom!"
Charisse appeared from her room, backpack over one shoulder. "Hi, Mom."
"Hi, baby! I was thinking we could go get ice cream. What do you think?"
Charisse glanced at me, then back at Rebecca. "I can't. We're going to Andi's family's house for dinner."
Rebecca's smile tightened slightly. "I'm sure they won't mind if you skip one Sunday. We haven't spent time together in ages."
"That's because you keep canceling and saying you're busy." The words came out matter-of-fact, no accusation, just a ten-year-old stating facts.
Rebecca's expression flickered. "I've been dealing with some things. But I'm here now. And I'd really like to spend time with my daughter."
"Can we do it another day? I want to see Sammy. She said she has a new set of crafts for us to try out and I want to go."
"Charisse—"
"Rebecca." I stepped in before this could escalate. "She's been looking forward to this all week. If you want to schedule something with her, we can coordinate for next weekend."
Rebecca's eyes snapped to me, sharp and cold. "I don't need to schedule time with my own daughter."
"Then maybe show up more than once every few weeks."
Wrong thing to say. I knew it the second the words left my mouth.
Rebecca's face went hard. "Maybe if you weren't parading her around Southie every Sunday, playing house with your girlfriend's working-class family, I'd feel more comfortable—"
"Stop." My voice was low, controlled. "Charisse is right here."
Rebecca's jaw tightened, but she looked at Charisse. "Sweetheart, wouldn't you rather spend time with me? Just the two of us?"
Charisse's fingers tightened around her backpack strap. Her eyes darted to the floor, then back up, her small shoulders squaring as she found her voice. "Not really. I want to go to Nonna and Poppy's."
The silence that followed was painful.
Rebecca's smile was gone now, replaced by something brittle. "They are not your Nonna and Poppy. You do not call them that. That is not acceptable!" She turned to me, fury in her eyes. "Why would you allow that? As if she were part of that family!"
"Rebecca, it’s what all the kids call them. It's not about them. It's just a different atmosphere. She can call them anything she wants as long as it's respectful."
"I don't like it, Gavin."
"Mom! I like them. They're nice and they care, and I have fun, and I don't like this right now."
I pinched the bridge of my nose, exhaling slowly.
"Rebecca, I think we need to call it a day.
" I glanced at Charisse, whose fingers were white-knuckled around her backpack strap.
"Why don't we talk later and have you schedule time to come over and get Charisse for an afternoon.
We can plan better if we know." I stepped slightly in front of Charisse, my voice dropping.
"But right now, we're already heading out, and this is not the way to do this. "
"I see. Well. I guess I know where I stand."
"Mom, it's not—"
"It's fine, Charisse. You go have fun with the Doyles." She looked at me. "Clearly they're more important than your own mother."
"That's not fair—" I started, but Rebecca was already turning away.
"I'll text you about next weekend. Maybe you'll have time for me then."
She was down the steps and in her car before either of us could respond.
Charisse looked up at me, her face troubled. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No, bug. You didn't do anything wrong." I pulled her into a hug. "You're allowed to have plans. And you're allowed to want to keep them."
"But Mom seemed...I don’t really know."
"Your mom's dealing with a lot of stuff right now. None of it is your fault." I kissed the top of her head. "Ready to go?"
She nodded, but the excitement from earlier had dimmed slightly.
The Doyle house was already in full chaos when we arrived. I could hear the noise from the driveway—kids shrieking in the backyard, someone's music playing too loud, and what sounded like an argument about football.
"They're here!" Sammy's voice carried from somewhere inside as we climbed the front steps.
The door flew open before I could knock. Danny stood there, beer in hand. "Hey, man. Come on in."
"Thanks." I stepped inside, Charisse close behind me.
"Charisse!" Sammy appeared from the living room. "Come on! Jackie and Ricky are already in the yard and we need you for teams!"
Charisse looked up at me. "Can I?"
"Go. Just don't break anything."
The girls disappeared toward the back of the house, and Danny gestured with his beer toward the kitchen. "Ma's in rare form today. Fair warning—she's made enough food to feed an army."
"So, a normal Sunday."
"Exactly."
I followed him through to the kitchen, where Patty was orchestrating chaos like a conductor. At the counter stood Andi, fingers working through a bowl of greens, her ponytail swinging as she moved. She looked up when I entered, her whole face brightening.
"Hey." She crossed to kiss me. "How was... everything?"
She knew. I'd texted her on the way over. "I'll tell you later."
"Okay." Andi gave me another peck, this time on my cheek, then turned back to her salad. "Ma's made enough food to feed the entire neighborhood."
"Damn right," Patty called from the stove. "Gavin, sweetheart, there's beer in the cooler on the porch. Go on out and make sure no one burns down my deck."
The backyard was its usual Sunday scene. Tommy stood by the grill with a beer; Tom Senior was settled in his lawn chair with the newspaper, and the twins were in the middle of what sounded like a heated argument.
"Gavin!" Tommy raised his spatula in greeting. "Grab a beer. You're gonna want one for this."
"I'm just saying," Mike was saying to Joey, "it was twenty years ago. Let it go, man."
"Let it go? You're such an ass," Joey knocked Mike with his shoulder. "I got three days of detention because you couldn't own up to smoking in the back parking lot after the game!"
"What are they fighting about now?" I asked, grabbing a beer from the cooler.
Tommy grinned. "Senior year. Mike got caught smoking, told Principal Mahoney he was Joey. Got Joey suspended from the team right before the playoffs."
"It cost us the game!" Joey's face was flushing. "Three points! We lost by three points!"
"I panicked!" Mike protested.
Tom Senior didn't even look up from his paper. "Still waiting for the day you two grow up."
"We were seventeen!"
"I'm talking about now," Tom replied drily.
As the brothers continued their age-old argument, I eased into an empty lawn chair.
This was what Rebecca didn't understand—what she'd never understand.
This wasn't about social climbing or "quaint" working-class families.
This was about belonging. About family that showed up.
About people who made room at the table without keeping score.
Dinner was the usual controlled chaos. Everyone squeezed around the table, multiple conversations happening at once, food being passed in every direction.
"Charisse, honey, you need more?" Patty was already reaching for her plate.
"I'm okay, Nonna. Thank you."
"She's too polite," Danny observed. "Not very Doyle of her."
"That's because she has manners," Rachel said. "Unlike some people." In response, Danny threw an ice cube at Rachel.
"My man, that was a mistake. Rachel will make you pay for that. Better keep one eye open." Tommy's laugh rang out, warm and genuine as he delivered the warning.
"Bring it!" Danny said, clearly teasing his sister-in-law with a familiarity that screamed family.
Rachel narrowed her eyes at Danny, making the universal "I'm watching you" gesture with two fingers.
"Sleep with one eye open," she said with a sweet smile that didn't match her words.
"Payback's coming for you, you little s-h-i-t.
" I couldn't help but smile at her spelling out the curse word, the kind of automatic parent-mode that had become second nature around the kids.
The kids finished quickly and bolted back outside. The adults lingered over wine and coffee, conversation drifting from topic to topic.
"Alright," Patty finally announced, standing. "Boys—dishes."
A chorus of groans.
"Ma, I was on grill duty—"
"And I appreciate it. Now get in that kitchen."
The women headed inside while the men grudgingly started clearing plates.
I was in the dining room clearing the last of the table when I heard Charisse's voice from the kitchen.
"Nonna, can I have some water?"
"Of course, sweetheart. Andi, can you grab her a glass?"
I drifted toward the kitchen, pausing at the threshold where I could see them but they probably wouldn't see me right away, caught in that parental instinct to witness small happy moments without interrupting them.
Andi filled a glass with water, handed it to Charisse. "Here you go, bug." She wet a napkin and gently wiped at a smear of sauce on Charisse's cheek. "There. All clean."
"Thanks." Charisse smiled up at her.
"Your ponytail's coming loose too. Hold still." Andi's fingers worked quickly, redoing the elastic with practiced ease.
From the yard, Sammy's voice rang out. "Charisse! We're starting without you!"
"Wait for me!" Charisse called back. Then, looking up at Andi with that open honesty only kids possessed, she said, "You're really good at this stuff.
My friend Emma's dad has a girlfriend, and Emma says she's nice but not like a mom, you know?
But you're different. You're more like..
. I don't know." She paused, considering.
"You're really good at it! I know Mom doesn't think you'd be a good mom, but I think she just doesn't know you! I think you're awesome!"
She handed the glass back to Andi, gave her a quick hug, and darted toward the back door before anyone could respond.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Patty and Rachel had both stopped what they were doing. Andi stood frozen, napkin in one hand, glass in the other. Her face was carefully blank.
Her gaze drifted upward, found me lingering in the doorway, and locked with mine.
I saw it all there—the hurt, the sadness, the careful control it was taking her not to crack. She held my gaze for three heartbeats, then looked away.
I'd never wanted to protect someone more in my life.