Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Evie
Everyone returns to the homebase where there are tents popped up, and a few feet away from that, Mary and Connor’s giant RV and a few other vehicles I recognize. Sam and I have set up condiments and Davis has manned the grill.
Since arriving, spewing my feelings and fears out along with more than a few tears and then locking that all down again, I’m feeling less anxious and more determined.
I want to get to know May, spend time with Sam, hopefully talk with Mary and Connor, maybe have a moment with Eirinn, if I can figure out what to say to her.
I want to get to know this lovely family who is, at least for now, mine.
Finn and the newcomer Gus walk back shoulder to shoulder, Finn’s face animated as he tells his old friend something.
They’re about the same height, but where Finn is classically dark brown hair with a neatly trimmed beard, Gus has the look of a man who doesn’t recognize the word manscaping based on his longer medium-brown hair, mature beard, and tanned face.
That’s not to say he’s unattractive, just in a far less polished way than Finn.
Apparently, Gus is back from a career in the military and no one except Davis knew he’d be here. He’s giving Davis a ride home later and was perfectly lovely when he introduced himself to me and Sam and offered us both congratulations for joining the Ryan family.
Those who swam disappear to clean up and Sam goes to help Grant, so I stay and chat with Davis.
At this point, there’s no new information about the hearing, so I try my very best not to pester him with my desperation over the case.
He can’t do anything to guess the outcome or even influence it beyond what we’ve already done.
Focusing on dinner has helped me get a grip on myself, but seeing Declan walk back holding Charlie slices me open. Charlie’s clapping and saying something and I watch like it’s slow motion.
Declan stops and leans back a little so he can see Charlie perfectly, his expression complete adoration for my son. His eyes are wide, his mouth curved into a smile, and then when Charlie laughs, Dec does, too.
With everyone else’s conversation buzzing around and the crackle from the burgers on the grill a few feet away, I can barely hear the sound. I’m instantly hungry for more of that low, pleasing laugh.
“There’s Mama.”
I hear it before I think to blink and break the trance I’m in. Charlie says, “Mama! Mama!” and wiggles his legs. Declan sets him down and grabs one hand to help him navigate my way without tripping over one of the many obstacles in his path.
I snatch him up into a hug and he giggles when I pretend to chomp at his neck. “My goodness, I’m hungry!”
We both laugh then, and I glance up to see Declan chuckling along with us. Charlie leans his head to one side and says, “More?”
But he’s looking at Declan. It’s his invitation to join our game.
I’ve seen Declan play with Charlie occasionally, but I haven’t caught him being silly.
He’s very much himself when he does—naming animals or asking Charlie questions, or simply observing.
It’s not from self-consciousness, but more that Declan isn’t a playful person.
Or at least, that’s not a part of himself he seems to access very easily.
Before I had Charlie, I don’t think I’d engaged with the silly, creative part of myself in years.
In this moment, I get something new. Because without hesitation, Declan’s brows shoot high and he says, “Oh, for me? Yes, I’m starved.” Then he leans down and pretends to chomp on Charlie’s neck with garish, imaginative sounds.
Which is not great for my current state where I teeter on the edge of losing myself to this man forever.
The game continues, and in a few minutes flat, poor Charlie has succumbed to our faux cannibalism, which is really a weird game, but here we are.
When Mary rings a cowbell to gather us, we all move in around the plastic picnic tables they’ve erected and she asks us to bow our heads.
She says a lovely prayer of thanks for family, nature’s beauty, and asks for special protection over Mac.
Now that I’ve met Gus, Mac is the only missing piece to the Ryan puzzle.
I don’t know why I’m teary-eyed when the prayer ends. It’s all so simple. But it’s warm and full of love and imperfection, my heart might actually be on fire with how much I’m right here in the midst of this and yet I feel like I’m frantically grasping to hold on to it.
To hold on to my baby.
To hold on to this man standing next to me, playing with my son as though he doesn’t want anything else.
“Can you, uh—I’ll be right back, okay?” I smile at Declan and he nods, but I see the way his eyes narrow to study me the moment he sees my face. I head him off at the pass. “I’m fine! Just need a minute.”
I snag my water bottle from the table as I walk past and act like I know where I’m going.
I have no idea except I need just a minute to breathe and take in the glorious blue sky and tall trees in this perfect place.
I need to focus on these substantial, actual features of this world and not all the utter longing for something fictional pulsing through me right now.
“Evie?”
Mary.
My heart sinks, but I plaster on a smile.
“Would you sit with me?”
My mouth opens to make an excuse, but I have nothing. I’m acutely aware that if I speak, I will actually blubber. I will become a melted-down mess of a woman who is utterly wailing at the far end of the campsite.
So I follow her to a log serving as a natural bench next to a small thatch of mountain wildflowers. We’re now far enough from the center of activity, I can’t hear specific words people are saying.
I sit down next to this woman who has offered me nothing but kindness and will myself to keep it together.
“Evie, my dear. I’m so glad you’re here with us this year.” Her clear blue eyes nearly match the sky. They’re lighter than her children’s and husband’s, but still quite familiar at this point.
“I’m glad I’m here.”
“Are you?”
My head snaps up to look at her again, and the concern is underlined in each of her lovely features. Reddish brown brows arched high, eyes somehow sad, and lips tucked in a way that express worry. Over me.
“I am.” My chin wobbles, but I bite my bottom lip to get a grip.
Mary’s kind face softens even more, and she smiles, running a hand over my hair.
“Oh, sweet girl. I know we’re new friends, but I hope you know you’ll always have a place here. You and your son will always have a place here, I swear it. And I hope Charlie will never stop calling me Gammy.”
That does it. Tears spill over and I’m an instant mess. I don’t even know what I’m grieving, but my heart feels battered. I just love them all so much, and I love them for loving Charlie and folding us in and accepting me and Dec even as we’re trying to figure out what any of this means.
“I just love you all,” I say-cry, only barely intelligibly. I want to tell her that even this, her hug, is something I haven’t had and certainly don’t know how to keep.
She holds me tight to her, and only after my crying stops does she pull back and smooth away the hair from my face.
I imagine the thousands of times she’s done this to each of her kids—her soft, warm hands bringing them comfort.
This, maybe more than anything I know about the Ryan family, makes clear why they’re all so wonderful.
“We love you, Evie. You’re a special person. You are strong and smart, and you are raising Charlie so beautifully.”
I sniffle and smile. “He’s the best.”
“He is. And you and my son…”
My heart quakes for fear of what she’ll say. What words is she searching for?
Her sky blue eyes find mine. Gone are the compassion and gentleness and in their place is a glint of steel and a glimmer of humor.
“You and my son need to have an honest conversation, consummate your marriage, and let yourselves love each other like you want. I think that’ll help all of this.” She cups my cheek, winks, and stands. “Shall we get some dinner?”
She knows… everything?
She knows. She knows it’s fake.
She knows everything.
She holds out her hand to me and I take it, mentally stalled out back there where Mary Ryan said the words consummate your marriage to me.
The tears have stopped. I may be on the verge of laughing hysterically or running around screaming because I have no idea what to do with myself.
But for now, I let Mary tuck my arm in hers and guide me back into the fray.