Chapter 51
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Evie
Four days later, Dec is settled at home.
We’ve had a constant stream of visitors and the fridge and freezer are packed to bursting with food from family and friends. The owner of HoneyBun brought fresh bread, and tonight, The Pizza Shop sent dinner for every member of the Ryan family, all of whom were crammed into our house.
I worried it would overwhelm Dec, but he refused to let me kick them out.
He sat quietly and seemed to simply soak it in.
A few hours later, everyone has left. Mac said his goodbyes and will be on a flight back to North Carolina tonight, but he promised he’d be back soon.
I hope he means it, for everyone’s sakes.
Grant helped me walk Dec up the stairs before he and Sam left. He’s still a little unsteady, and the stairs are a fairly big challenge for a man recovering like he is.
The house is quiet and I feel incredibly relieved to have my husband home. Though there is one thought inching its way in after days of holding it at bay.
“Will you tell me what’s on your mind, or do you need more time?”
He asks this from where he’s resting in the bed. I honestly thought he’d be asleep the minute his head hit the pillow, but he seems quite awake.
“I’m just tidying up.” I toss the clothes I helped him change out of into the laundry basket and pace toward him. “I’m so glad you’re home.” I kiss his forehead, then his lips.
He brings a hand to my face and my eyes shift at the contact. I haven’t gotten to touch him or be touched by him in what feels like forever. Now that I’ve had that closeness, I’m desperate for it. Just these simple, intimate moments are rare and I relish them when they happen.
“Me, too.” His blue eyes search back and forth between mine. “Now tell me.”
I lean back, caught out. I don’t want to hit him with my issues now, in the wake of everything he’s been through. But it’s also time. There is no better time than right now.
With a labored swallow, I perch on the bed next to him. He takes my hand in his, forging the connection I need right now.
“So…”
A smile flickers across his face. Even unshaven and hair a touch askew from getting dressed for bed, he’s incredibly handsome.
He’s had his glasses on since the surgery and I can’t deny seeing him undone like this makes my heart flutter.
He’s been through so much, but he’s so strong and kind and wonderful.
“So?” His head tips to one side in concern.
“There’s no way Trevor will ever get custody now. Not after admitting his mom told him what she wanted to do, even if he claims he didn’t believe she’d do it.”
That was one shocking revelation—not that Katrina had ranted about coming to take Charlie for herself, but that Trevor had cooperated so completely with helping find her and therefore me and Charlie.
And maybe more than that, that he’d said he was sorry. Not directly to me, but he’d apparently apologized profusely to Diego and Grant, when he spoke to them, begging them to tell me as much.
Nice thought. Really, it is. Is it enough for me to want him in our lives?
No. But I suspect he was never the driver of the custody battle.
It was always Katrina, who’ll be in jail or a psychiatric ward for a long, long time.
That’s up to the judge at her hearing in a few weeks, and for now, she’s back in California at an institution.
I’m working on forgiving her, but I’m not sure I’m there yet.
Not while I still have to help my husband put his shirt on or catch him wincing when he laughs and forgets to brace ahead of time.
“True. That’s case closed.” He brushes a thumb over the back of my hand.
I clear my throat, tightness there keeping me from spitting it out.
Or, you know, the way my heartbeat pounds in my ears and I feel low-key nauseated by what I’m about to say.
“So, um, we could be done here, if you want. I can’t blame you. If it weren’t for me, none of this would’ve happened.”
The look he’s giving me is indecipherable. Is he relieved? Angry? Sad? Shocked?
But no. No. Of course not. Because he’s Declan.
“Oh, love. Come here.”
He inches his way farther into the middle of the bed, not without some grimacing and grunting, and gathers me to him. I stretch out next to him, careful not to lean against him, but he hooks an arm around my shoulders and pulls me in closer.
“Be careful! I don’t want to—”
“I want you close to me when I say this so there’s nowhere for you to go. I need you to hear and believe what I have to say, and since I can’t make love to you after to prove my point, this is what we’re doing.”
Oh. I cooperate, nestling in as close as I dare, then tilt my head up. We are inches apart, but this closeness, even this tiny moment, heals one of the ragged, torn places in me.
“I love you. I love Charlie. I love our family and living together. I don’t want to be parted from you, ever. I want to live a long life at your side, grow old, and die together out under a million stars surrounded by wild sage when we’re a hundred and five.”
I chuckle, but I’m crying, too. This man.
I suck in a breath and nod. “Sign me up.”
He smiles softly, warmly. So full of love and gentleness, it’d be heartbreaking, except he’s mine. It doesn’t have to break my heart because I’m longing for it. It’s simply mine to enjoy and savor.
“As far as I’m concerned, we’re both signed up.”
He leans in for a kiss, which I happily meet. Before we can spiral out of control, I pull back. “Maybe we can take that honeymoon we’ve been talking about in a few months.”
He grins—a true, full-out, beaming smile. “I’d like that. At this rate, probably after the opening.”
It’s my turn to grin. “The opening” is something that has developed at lightning speed the last few days.
I didn’t realize how far into planning he was, but apparently, Declan has been very close to finalizing plans for his senior living facility in Juniper View, and since he’s himself, he couldn’t simply recover from his surgeries while in the hospital. Of course not.
While there, he and all of his siblings worked together to finish the planning and kickstart the building of the senior apartments he’s dreamed of opening.
It’s a cross between a retirement community and a skilled nursing facility, a place where people like Gary Longbrow can go when staying home isn’t safe but won’t be as expensive as Silverton Springs.
He’s funding the build, the business as a whole, and he’s heavily subsidizing the cost so it’s an affordable option.
Every detail I’ve learned about this project has made me fall more in love with him. His brilliant mind and his incredible heart.
“That sounds amazing. Where should we go?” I don’t even care.
A spark enters his gaze. “Anywhere I can see you in a bikini. Or naked.” He grins. “So really anywhere as long as we have a bed.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “Well, that narrows it down.”
We grin at each other, so full of joy and honestly, wonder, at how this has all turned out.
“Thank you for loving me.” I won’t ever stop saying it.
He grins. “Thank you for loving me, Evie. It is the greatest gift I’ve ever received.”