Chapter 32 #2
Beth hugs me. Vera hugs me. The table expands, chairs are pulled up, menus are distributed. The quiet dinner for three becomes loud and warm and full, and I am so grateful for these people I can barely speak.
Then the door opens again. Will comes in first, wearing a jacket I haven't seen before—dark, buttoned properly, like he'd made an effort. His face is pale and there are shadows under his eyes that tell me today had been tough.
But he's here. It's the worst day of his year, and he came anyway.
Callahan is behind him, close, one hand near his father's back, guiding without quite touching. He's watching Will, tracking, checking. He carries the same exhaustion, like a man who has been holding things together for a very long time.
Will finds me across the room and his face changes. The weariness doesn't leave, but it rearranges, makes room for warmth.
I can't hold it together anymore. My eyes are already going because I can't help it, because this man has no business being here today and he came anyway.
"No, no, stop." Will reaches me and I pull him into a hug, holding on hard. "None of that. I heard it's an angel's birthday today and I wasn't going to miss it."
I break. The tears come hard and fast and ugly, the kind I can't swallow or blink away. I hold him because I don't know what else to do with the feeling.
"I'm so sorry," I manage against his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Will."
He shakes his head and pulls one hand free to cup the side of my face, his palm rough from decades of wood and work.
"Hey. Listen to me." His voice is steady even though his eyes are bright.
"Today is for celebrating you. That's what my Anna would have loved.
She would have been the first one through that door with a cake she baked herself and streamers in her purse.
" He holds my face like I'm precious to him.
"My Anna would have loved you, my precious girl. Would have just adored you."
I press my face into his shoulder and he puts his arms around me, his hand rubbing slow circles on my back. He smells like sawdust and the aftershave Callahan wears. He must have borrowed it.
"Thank you for coming," I whisper into his jacket.
"Wouldn't have missed it." He wipes my cheeks with his thumbs the way a father would. "Now. Dry your eyes and point me at the menu. I was promised a steak and I intend to collect."
Gran is already shifting chairs to make room. Beth is dabbing her eyes with a napkin. Poppy has her hand over her mouth. Erin is holding Rome's arm, leaning into him, her face radiant.
And then there's Callahan. He stops in front of me and we just stand there for a second, neither of us saying anything.
When I reach for him he catches me, both arms wrapping around my waist, pulling me in, pulling me close.
"Happy birthday again, baby," he murmurs against my hair.
I cling to him. I don't have words for what this means, for what it took him to be here, for what it says that he came anyway. I let my tears soak into his collar, and he lets me, like he'd stand there all night if that's what I needed.
The table is full now, loud, alive. Will seems happy, looking more relaxed than I expected.
Rome sits at the end of the table with Erin beside him, his arm around her chair, watching.
We'd talked about it. Rome and I, alone, a conversation that lasted two hours and left us both raw. He'd been angry and told me he was worried and that Callahan was too old for me and that he'd trusted him and felt betrayed.
I told him I loved him and respected him, but that I was going to do this anyway. He hadn't liked that. He was still not liking it, visibly, from the end of the table. But he's here. He stayed.
Dinner is good. The food is rich and the wine keeps coming and the noise level climbs, and at one point, slowly, the table thins. Gran leaves first, with Beth and Vera. Will stands next, stopping in front of me one last time.
"Happy birthday, sweetheart."
"Thank you, Will. For being here. You have no idea."
"I have some idea." He smiles.
He leaves with Callahan, and I am not ready for the night to end.
Me
Come back?
Callahan
Making sure dad's ok. Give me 15 min.
Fourteen minutes later, Callahan comes back. He slides into the empty chair beside me as his arm goes across the back of my chair, unhurried, like it belongs there.
At some point, he picks up my glass of water and takes a long drink without asking, like we're just people who share things. Rome frowns at the familiarity. Erin puts her hand on his arm as if to hold him back.
The happiness tips into mischief. It's the wine. It's the birthday. It's the look on Callahan's face—relaxed, guard down for once in this group—as he laughs at Poppy's impression of someone I don't know.
It's the fact that Rome is sitting right there, stiff and watchful on a night like this. My big brother is such a bore. He needs to lighten up.
I lean toward Callahan and point at the water glass. "Can I have a sip?"
"Here, baby." He hands it to me, his attention still half on Poppy. It's technically my glass. I could have just grabbed it, but I give him a sweet smile as I take it anyway.
"Thank you, Daddy."
The table goes silent as Callahan's face goes through about four stages in two seconds: shock, disbelief, a flash of heat he can't hide fast enough, and then pure, undiluted horror as his eyes cut sideways to Rome. And then to everyone else, who is staring with their mouths open.
Rome's napkin hits the table with an angry thud. He doesn't say a word. He pushes his chair back, stands up, and walks out of the restaurant, choosing to leave before he chooses to commit a felony.
Erin closes her eyes. Ramsey pinches the bridge of his nose. Poppy bursts out laughing so hard she knocks her wine glass over and doesn't care.
Callahan is staring at me, and he is furious. Why is he so hot when he's angry? Something in his eyes has gone darker, and I have to actively resist the urge to close the distance between us. I might be a little buzzed, but he is still the most gorgeous man I have ever seen.
"Lily," he hisses. "What the fuck?"
"I'm sorry." I am definitely not sorry. "I couldn't help it."
"You are unbelievable."
"Rome needs to be humbled every once in a while," I say with a shrug.
But Callahan is not listening. Poppy is wheezing, her face buried in Ramsey's shoulder, her whole body shaking. Ramsey is rubbing her back with the resigned patience of a man who has accepted his life.
Erin stands up. She's calm, but even she can't hide the twitch at the corner of her mouth. She picks up her purse and points between me and Callahan.
"The two of you," she says, "will stop tormenting my man and forcing me to chase after him."
"Erin, I'm sorry." I mean it this time. Partially.
Erin gives me a look that says she knows exactly how partial the apology is. She kisses my cheek, murmurs happy birthday, and walks out after Rome.
Callahan leans forward, elbows on the table, and presses both hands over his face. He stays like that for a long moment. I rub his back and offer a false apology.
"Does that mean you'll stop all this and behave from now on?" he asks.
"Let's be reasonable here." I grin at him. "I'm always gonna make your life a living hell."
Callahan turns to Ramsey, who holds up both hands.
"Don't look at me, man. You think she's hilarious. This is all on you."
"This happened to me, you idiot."
"That's what we all say."
Poppy has recovered enough to sit upright. Her mascara is smudged and she looks delighted with herself and with me and with the general chaos of the evening.
"For what it's worth," she announces, lifting her wine glass, "this is the best birthday of my life."
"It isn't your birthday," Callahan mutters.
"Details." She clinks her glass against mine. "Happy birthday, Lil."
"Happy birthday to me," I grin.