Chapter 38 Stevie
thirty-eight
Stevie
One Year Later
I park beside Connor’s cedar-and-glass house and sit for one breath, watching wind skate ripples over the lake.
Even if it’s in the most expensive neighborhood in Washington State, the place looks rooted, not flashy. A builder’s home where every board knows why it’s there.
I grab my tote, follow the flagstones, and knock.
Connor opens with a toothy grin. “Stevie.” He steps aside. “Welcome.”
He leads me back to where I hear the murmur of voices past a wall of windows overlooking the lake. Entering the kitchen, a gaggle of McGloughlin brothers, including Padraig, are waiting for me.
Ronni stands at the island, kettle in hand, wearing a sweater loose over a noticeable bump. “Herbal tea? I’m hydrating.”
“Tea is perfect.” I slide my tote onto a chair and flip my notebook open. “So, guys, today’s going to be a fact-finding mission. I listen, you lot talk. We build a plan for Rory from there.”
Cillian’s on a stool in faded denim and steel-toe boots, phone facedown for once.
Seamus wears a hoodie over scrubs, his hair flattened on one side.
Padraig leans against the far counter, hair tied back, forearms crossed, mouth curved cheekily, indicating he’s thinking about last night’s grown-up activities.
I look away, hoping my blush doesn’t give us away.
Connor claps once. “Let’s start with venue.”
“Shouldn’t we host considering I’ll be ready to pop?” Ronni offers before anyone else can answer. “It’ll be winter, but we could use the patio if we set up a tent and heaters at the corners. String lights along the railings.”
Connor shrugs, pleased. “Aye, sounds like a plan.”
I glance around, this is a commercial kitchen times a million. “It’ll be easy to prep the food here. Day of, staff can stage in the butler’s pantry. What do you think the guest count is?”
“Family, close mates, a few old foremen, neighbors from the early years, your family of course,” Connor says. “Fifty to sixty max. Ma will push for five more once she remembers someone she forgot. We can absorb it.”
I scribble it down and look up. “Budget?”
The brothers look at each other and Cillian lifts a hand. “Let’s go big. Da isn’t fussy, but we should have good food and make it look awesome. Maybe some sort of party favor.”
“Menu?” I ask.
“Ma will want to cook.” Seamus shakes his head. “We won’t stop her even if we try.”
“We don’t need to stop her.” I tap my pen to my lip. “We support and supplement her. I’ll hire staff for prep and service so she can supervise without hauling trays.”
“Thank you,” Padraig beams. “She’ll appreciate it.”
I draw a quick box for the patio and sketch zones.
“I need to look around more, but after a quick glance I can see lounge pockets near windows, tall tables by heaters, stage at the far rail with a water station beside it, dessert station close to the kitchen. Flow in a loop so no bottlenecks. Do you want a bar, or are we going dry?”
Cillian leans in. “Da wouldn’t care. He’s exorcised his demons.”
“You haven’t,” Seamus mutters under his breath.
“Well, you boys discuss amongst yourself and get back to me. We have a lot of time.” I definitely don’t want to be in the middle of the family dynamic on this decision. “Speeches?”
Seamus squints at the ceiling, “Short.”
“Photos?” I ask.
Padraig speaks for the first real time. “We can sort through the albums and compile old site shots from the early days. Ask friends to contribute. Nothing to drag him into places he doesn’t visit anymore.”
We all hear what he isn’t saying. Sobriety three years strong. Don’t focus on the bad years.
“Let’s ask Brennan to make a tight slide show,” Connor says. “He’ll deliver if we give him a drop-dead date.”
“Done.” I write a date, underline it.
Ronni nudges a mug of tea toward me. “Invites?”
“I think we go classy. Printed, hand-delivered where possible.” I gesture with my hands. “No social media until after. Rory may not be online much, but everyone else is. The surprise will hold if we keep the circle tight.”
Connor nods. “We’re good at tight circles.”
An understatement. The McGloughlins close rank with ferocity and humor.
The sound of the side door sliding open carries into the kitchen. Gigi, their middle-aged nanny steps in, flushed from the wind, with toddlers on each hip. Torin and Tristan, at two, are miniature versions of Connor. Dark ginger hair with wide grins already working an angle.
Connor’s face lights. “There’s my wee lads.” He sweeps Torin into one arm and musses Tristan’s hair before passing him to Cillian, who hoists him onto his shoulders. Padraig crouches down so Tristan can give him a kiss and Seamus holds out a fist for Torin, earning a solemn bump in return.
“All right, get outta here so I can feed the monsters.” Ronni shoos the whole lot of them toward the living room. “Go figure out the bar situation.”
The brothers depart, tossing Tristan between them in mock handoffs. Gigi sets the boys in their booster seats, and Ronni slides plates piled with turkey, strawberries, and buttered bread.
“You know,” she glances at me as they dig in, “Sunday dinners feel strange when you’re not there.”
“It’s been good for all of us.” I lean on the counter next to her. “Jude loves being ‘the older one’ when he’s with your boys and Rafferty. He takes it like a job. He was gutted when we couldn’t come last Sunday, but I wasn’t about to let any of you catch the bug we all had.”
Ronni gives me a knowing look. “I appreciate it. But, now we’re alone, so I need the goods. When are you and Padraig telling your kids?”
“Soon.” My hand traces a pattern in the marble on the counter.
“We’re ready. It’s been two years since Coop died.
It’s a long time, but when you’ve got kids, it’s not.
The grief shows up for them in different ways.
I don’t want to rush something and have it feel like another loss if things changed. They’ve been through enough.”
Ronni nods, quiet.
“I’ve read enough to know you can’t drop someone new into their lives at full volume.
It has to be gradual. As much as Padraig and I want to shout it from the rooftops, I need to put them first. Give them space to process and let them have feelings about it without being told how to feel.
Most of all, neither of us want them to think Padraig is trying to replace Cooper. ”
Ronni leans forward, lowering her voice. “Connor’s always said it was tragic, you two splitting. He swears even back then, you belonged together.”
“Yeah…” I let out a slow breath. “It’s complicated. We were desperately in love, but life was happening fast. College, the band, my career. I made choices I thought were right at the time and now I have three beautiful kids. It turns out forever doesn’t disappear, it waits.”
Ronni smirks, handing half a cracker to Tristan before he can knock the whole plate to the floor. “You know, being with a guy in a band. People think it’s all glamour. Truth is, you either learn to live with the absences or you lose your mind.”
I laugh, because it’s exactly what I’ve been thinking for months.
What Ronni doesn’t know is for us, the absences have an end date.
“Exactly. The travel, the late nights, the last-minute changes. It’s a lot.
Padraig’s heart is here, but the schedule pulls him away.
It’s not as bad as I imagined it back in college though.
We’re figuring out how to keep the connection without resenting the gaps. ”
“Connor and I had to learn how to balance too. Took a while. A lot of bumps.” Her eyes soften with recognition.
It’s true. The two of them have been through so much, it makes our situation look like child’s play.
“In some ways, his obligations have been a blessing in disguise.” I keep my expression even and my tone light.
The truth is, Padraig’s leaving the band once this album cycle ends. It’s been a runaway success, which has led to financial freedom and a ton of opportunities. The royalties alone from this run will set him up for life. He’ll be able to paint full-time and be with his son.
For now, I let Ronni think this is our forever reality, because Connor doesn’t know either. I’m not about to spill the beans.
“When he was on tour, he always made time to have long video chats with me and the kids, showing them where he was, letting them see the crowds,” I continue.
“When he’s home, we’ve had a few casual outings where he can bring Raff.
The zoo, a Mariners game, the Puyallup Fair.
We’ve been careful not to blur the lines too fast. But the extended family dinners?
” I smile as I bring the conversation back around.
“The best. My family’s always been close to the McGloughlins, so when we’re all together for birthdays or holidays, there’s no pressure.
The kids get to see him in a big, loud mix without forcing us to define anything until we’re ready. ”
Ronni smiles knowingly. “Sounds like you’ve been turning up the volume nice and slow.”
“We’re solid. Figuring out timing. It should be soon.” A glance at the clock pulls me back to the rest of my day. “Speaking of timing, I need to grab Jude, then the girls.”
Ronni waves me off. “Go. We’ll keep the planning train moving.”
I cross through the hall toward the living room, where the brothers are deep in conversation. Padraig spots me first, pushing to his feet. “Heading out?”
“School pickup.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
We step into the warm June air, the lake glinting beyond Connor’s walkway. The scent of fresh-cut grass carries on a light breeze. Padraig’s hand settles at the small of my back, easy and familiar, as we follow the path to my car.
“Text when you’re home.” His voice dips into the private register meant only for me.
“I will.”
He leans in, mouth meeting mine in a kiss starting off soft and turning certain. His fingers curve around my hip, holding me close until I pull back with a smile I can’t quite hide.
I slide into the driver’s seat, door open as he rests an arm on the roof. “Love you.”
“Love you too.” He keeps his eyes steady on mine until I turn the key.
I pull away with the image of him standing in the drive.
Sunlight catches on the edges of a life I’m ready to claim.
It can’t come soon enough.