Chapter 45
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Evie
We arrive at the farmhouse at half past twelve.
Charlie is cranky, but happy to see his grammy, which is a relief.
Declan, on the other hand, seems preoccupied.
I’m grateful to Mary, who’s offered to watch Charlie while we have lunch after the preschool notified us of a last-minute training they’d forgotten to mention they scheduled for this afternoon.
Since Declan would be at his volunteer job this afternoon and I needed to work, we could’ve canceled, but when Mary found out, she begged us to let her keep Charlie.
I’ve been spoiled by Dec’s full focus and attention since we started planning to marry, so this is a notable turn. He’s not cold or withdrawn, just distracted in a way I’ve never seen him. It’s got me a little antsy, and also grateful we’re about to have some time alone.
But Charlie’s been a little clingy this morning and I don’t have the heart to drop him and run. So many more people have folded into our routine lately, and even though they’re all wonderful, it’s a lot of change for one little guy. For me, too, though the changes are all so good.
“Your dad had to go help Finn with Sweet Pea, so it’ll probably just be me and Charlie today. Is that okay? Can we play together?” She holds out a hand to him, letting him lead the way and come to her rather than just snatching him from my arms.
God bless her. I know she has experience with kids after raising six of them and having four grandkids already, but I’m perpetually relieved she has the sense not to just do whatever she wants with my son. She’s sensitive to his mood and his age, and I think to me, too. She’s wonderful.
After a few minutes, Charlie is settled at a little table with crayons and paper, and Mary is shooing us out the door. “I’ll see you whenever you’re back. Take all the time you need.”
“I’ll be back by five at the latest.”
She tuts. “Like I said, take all the time you need.”
Declan opens my door for me, then jogs around to his side once he shuts me in.
Even with his mind elsewhere, he’s unfailingly courteous.
I can’t ignore the worry burrowing into my chest. Maybe we should go over to the barn instead, and I’ll finally meet Sunshine and the other horses.
That’d be fun, and I could avoid whatever is going on with Dec.
But no. I’m not avoiding this, and I don’t even know what this is. It’s maybe nothing. I’m trying not to let it grow into something bigger until I can ask him what’s going on, but my history hasn’t exactly taught me that when a man’s mood shifts, things will work out just fine.
That said, and I know this down to my soul, Declan would never hurt me.
He is nothing like Trevor, and I don’t doubt that.
Some of this is just my knee-jerk reaction to something different that’s out of my control.
But lately, so much has been out of my control, and it has all turned out to be good.
I can mentally agree that I should calm the crap down and enjoy the lovely scenery.
The leaves are starting to turn, and the sky is that bright Ryan family blue I love. It’s gorgeous.
“Before we get to lunch, I’d like to talk to you about something.”
My pulse shoots from normal to… abnormal. Undoubtedly a number Dr. Martinez and yes, Dr. Ryan, would find concerning.
“Okay. I’ve been wondering if you had something on your mind.” It’s laughable what an understatement that has become in the last five seconds.
He doesn’t speak for a minute, but once he puts the car in park and shuts off the engine, he turns to me. His handsome face is clean-shaven as he clearly prefers. He takes my hand and holds it with both of his.
The contact is soothing, but it also makes me feel like he’s bracing me for something.
“I’m sorry to say this because you’ve never done anything to make me not trust you, but I am freaking out a little bit that whatever’s coming is something horrible so if you could just tell me, that’d be great.”
His eyes go wide and he hauls me into a hug.
“No, no, love. I’m sorry. I’m an idiot.” He pulls back and grabs my hand again.
“I’ve been in my own head too much, and I’m sorry.
That is one of my flaws, for sure. I’ve been thinking about how much I’d like us to take a honeymoon, but I’m not sure if it’s too much to ask.
I’ve been going around and around about it and realized I should just talk to you instead of exploring every option in my echo chamber of one.
” He presses a kiss to the back of my hand. “I’m sorry I made you worry.”
A sob-like laugh croaks out of me, and then I let out an insane-sounding giggle.
“I was freaking out and you were planning our honeymoon?” I tug on his shirt and kiss him with everything I’ve got.
When we come up for air, the words tumble off my tongue.
“I love you so much. I appreciate you so much. And I want to make clear that I know logically you are nothing like Trevor. You’re not.
And I’m not like I was with him. Everything is different with us, and I’ve healed a lot.
But apparently, my gut reaction still has room to grow.
I’m so sorry I thought something bad was happening. ”
I’m embarrassed, but mostly so deeply relieved and grateful. Yes, there it is again. I’m grateful to him for being the kind of man who would agonize over asking about a honeymoon. I’m grateful life led me to him. And I’m so deeply grateful to be his.
“That’s okay. We’re new, and for newlyweds, we’re particularly new considering we didn’t date before we got married. We’re going to have a lot to figure out as we go.”
I kiss his hand like he did mine. “We are. But we can do it.”
His smile is soft when he nods. “We can.” After a beat during which we grin at each other like airheads, he unbuckles his seatbelt, then mine. “How about we head inside and talk about the honeymoon idea?”
“Perfect plan.”
After a lovely lunch, we head back to work. The afternoon trots along and I’m more than ready to relax at home with my boys by the end of the day. Declan’s out doing his volunteer clinic time so I wander over to the daycare and check on Clementine before heading to get Charlie.
Clementine has been looking exhausted, but when I ask her how she’s doing, she gives me a cheery “doing great!” and I get that she’s not up for more conversation.
Maybe it’s just a mid-week crash, which I certainly empathize with.
That done, I head back to Mary’s to pick up Charlie.
He didn’t nap, so I feel terrible for Mary, but she mentions a friend stopped by and that she and Charlie had a great time “visiting.”
Charlie is teary when we leave, and I’m feeling it, too. Pulling on sweatpants sounds like heaven.
At home, I get dinner going while Charlie plays with some toys in the living room. Around six-thirty, the doorbell rings. It can’t be Dec because he’d just come right in, but I swing the door open without checking the spyhole because it’s probably Finn or Sam or someone just stopping by.
But once I open the door, my brain freezes up. I don’t greet the person because I know her, but I don’t instantly place her. Not for the first fraction of a second. And then I do.
Then I realize who I’m seeing.
“Katrina?”
“Surprise, Evie.”
I shrink back and immediately start closing the door.
She shoves her foot between the threshold and the panel before I can completely shut it, and pulls something out of her pocket.
“Now, now, Miss Priss. You’re not shutting me out anymore.”
I step back, hands raised, fear liquifying in my belly at the sight of a gun pointed at me.
“What do you want? What are you doing here?”
She heaves an exhausted sigh and rolls her eyes. “I mean, if you haven’t connected the dots already, you’re stupider than I thought.”
“Mama? Mama?”
A greater fear than being faced with a weapon hits when I hear my son’s little voice. He’s in the high chair, so he’s safe for now, but now she knows he’s here.
“Oh, there he is, my grandson!” She walks forward, gun still pointed at my chest, so I back up, nearly tripping over the rug in the entryway.
We reach the kitchen and Katrina smiles at Charlie, cooing out a sweet-sounding, “There he is.”
I want to vomit and scream. I want Dec. I want Grant. I want anyone at all other than this woman who knew exactly what her son was doing to me and thought I should toughen up.
“What do you want?” I ask again because I can’t stand the suspense. I want her out of here.
She tips her head to one side, giving me one of those condescending looks that spells out exactly how little she thinks of me.
“Isn’t it obvious, Evie? I want my grandson.”