Chapter 14
The past week since Sloane made me supper has flown by.
Since that first time, we’ve eaten together every night, then sat on the couch together and watched a movie.
Or, I watched a movie cuddled with Gigi, and she read on her Kindle.
It’s a comfortable routine I didn’t know I was missing in my life.
But our routine is about to change. For the next three days, at least.
Ronan and Cassie are driving in today for a few days.
Cassie has to work through Christmas, so they decided to come for a few days before the crazy holiday rush.
Not that they celebrate, though. After his wife’s death, Ronan and Sloane’s dad couldn’t find it in him to celebrate Christmas.
Since Sloane’s birthday is on the twenty-sixth, they just go all out celebrating her birthday.
Both Mr. Callahan and Ronan had the incessant fear that one day Sloane was going to wake up and blame herself for her mother’s death.
They thought the best way to make sure that didn’t happen was to go all out for her birthday.
Something I recently learned is still happening to this day, since they’re coming here to have an early birthday party for Sloane.
“Do you ever wish you celebrated Christmas?” I ask as I watch her care for her plants in the living room where I’m sitting on the couch with a sleeping Gigi.
“Honestly? No,” she answers before putting down her watering can and turning to face me.
“At first, maybe, I did. But that quickly disappeared when I started to notice that my birthday was forgotten by everyone in the chaos of the holidays. All the other kids at school got cupcakes and birthday parties but I never could because everything was just too hectic. I guess that makes me a little selfish, but it was nice having all the attention—not that I didn’t always have Dad and Ro’s attention,” she says with a laugh.
“Then, the older I got, and the more I asked about Mom, we started spending Christmas day doing all her favorite things. We’d bake white chocolate raspberry banana muffins in the morning, play Scrabble in the afternoon, watch Shark Week reruns—apparently she was obsessed with sharks—then we’d bring our mattresses into the living room and watch our favorite movies.
Ro said he and Mom would do that often. All that to say, though, no, I don’t wish it were different.
I got to celebrate something—someone better, during the holiday season. ”
I wish I was the type of guy that could just hug her. I’ve never heard her talk about her mom, it was always the one topic she shied away from. But before I can do or say anything, there’s a short knock on the door just before it opens and we hear Ronan say, “Honey, we’re home!”
With my eyes still trained on Sloane, I watch her face go from wistful, due to thinking about the mother she never met, to a breathtaking smile, making her entire face glow at the sound of her brother’s voice.
I love the relationship they have. I’d like to say I have the same relationship with my four siblings, but I don’t.
For some reason, I’ve always shied away from having that close of a relationship with my siblings.
Sure, I’m in the family group chat, but I barely participate.
I’ve always found myself more at ease in the quiet of the Callahan house than the always moving and loud chaos of my own home.
I slowly get up to meet Ronan and Cassie at the front door, only to see Ronan swinging his sister around in a hug, with her squealing at him to let her down. My eye catches Cassie’s, who’s standing in the doorway behind them. We exchange a shake of the head.
“All right, move it along, you guys,” Cassie says, shoving Ronan my way and away from Sloane so she can give her a tight hug too.
“I see you’ve moved up in the world,” Ronan says, nodding his head toward my cane, before I’m on the receiving end of his bear hug.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, once he pulls away.
“Good. Real good,” I answer him honestly as we move further into the house.
What I don’t tell him is that his little sister is at least partially responsible for my feeling good.
Everything seemed better now that she wasn’t avoiding me like she had been.
Being in her orbit settles me. “Moving to a cane was something, but now that I’ve gotten the hang of it I’m gaining more and more movement and I’ve decreased my meds, so all around, it’s going well. ”
“I’m happy to hear that! You’ll be back to running and cycling in no time,” he says, bringing his bags to the basement, where he and Cassie are staying while they’re here.
Part of me feels bad that they’re being relegated to the unfinished basement because I’m taking up the guest bedroom.
Even though it’s overflowing with plants, it’s very relaxing and comfortable.
I bet they don’t have plants in the basement.
“All right, I ordered the pizza before we got here, the bags are in—who’s ready to drink?
” Cassie asks enthusiastically, holding up two bottles of white wine, making me shake my head.
I’ve known Cassie for as long as I’ve known Ronan; she moved to Vancouver the same year he did.
The three of us were glued at the hip, until they started dating in high school.
Having gone to high school with Cassie, I know just how quickly she gets drunk and loud with white wine.
The fact that she’s holding two bottles, when I know Ronan doesn’t drink it and I can’t worries me.
“Not me,” I inform her. “I can’t drink with the medication I’m on.”
At the same time, Ronan says, “You know I don’t drink that shit,” as he holds up a can of beer. All the while, Sloane is still silently sitting on the couch with Gigi.
“I know you don’t drink much, Sloane, but please tell me you’ll make an exception tonight! Ronan promised he’d make us a huge breakfast tomorrow!” she says, giving Sloane her best puppy dog eyes.
“Waffles with your strawberry syrup?” Sloane asks Ronan.
“Promise,” he says, joining us in the living room with two wine glasses and a bottle opener.
“Fine, but we’re not getting out of hand,” she says, waving a finger at Cassie and accepting a glass from her brother.
I’d like to be able to tell Sloane tomorrow morning that she and Cassie didn’t get out of hand, but I won’t be able to do that.
Cassie has been a lightweight since we learned what alcohol was.
I figured Sloane might be a lightweight as well, especially if all I have to base my assumption on is that one night years ago . . .
I’m currently watching the third High School Musical, but mostly, I’m watching the girls, who are drunkenly attempting to sing and dance along with the characters on TV.
At this point, I’m worried I won’t be the only one needing assistance to walk tomorrow morning.
On the other hand, I can guarantee that I have never, and will never, smile and laugh as much as I am right now.
I can’t remember the last time I saw Sloane so free.
She’s been very uptight, scheduled, and reserved since I’ve moved in, more so since her date blew her off.
What I wouldn’t do to have this uninhibited joy on her face all the time.
Finally, Ronan decides to put an end to it all.
“All right ladies! I think it’s time for bed .
. . before either of you gets injured!” A chorus of nos, and being called a “party pooper” by Sloane and an “asshole” by Cassie follows his words.
But that doesn’t deter him. He just gets up and swings Cassie over his shoulder as if she weighs nothing and makes his way toward the basement door, leaving me to deal with a drunk and yawning Sloane.
“Come on, Rosie, let’s get you ready for bed,” I tell her, as I turn off the TV and push myself off the couch, wishing I could just throw her over my shoulder like Ronan did to Cass.
“I like it when you call me Rosie. It makes me feel special,” she confesses as she follows me to the bathroom. Her quiet drunk confession hits me right in the chest. Maybe she’s missed me just as much as I’ve missed her.
“Promise to keep calling me that?” she asks.
“Promise,” I tell her as I lean against the vanity and hold out her toothbrush for her to take.
Once she’s distracted with brushing her teeth, I take her in from head to toe.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more gorgeous woman.
About three glasses in, she threw her long chocolate hair into a messy bun, but all of her dancing and singing made little pieces fall and frame her face.
The most enticing ones are floating around the back of her neck, begging me to run a finger along the length of it.
Would it make her shiver? Would goose bumps appear behind my touch?
I’m quickly pulled from my thoughts, by the sound of Sloane spitting her toothpaste in the sink in the most unlady-like manner. Instead of grossing me out, it makes me smile.
“All right. Now, how about you go change and I’ll bring you a water bottle and a granola bar,” I direct her.
“Okay, but after that we have to be really really really really really quiet. We can’t wake Liam,” she whisper-shouts at me as she presses a finger against my mouth.
She’s so close I can smell the mint on her breath.
She hasn’t been this close to me since I moved in with her.
Now I’m the one with the full body shivers. Thankfully, she’s too drunk to notice.
I get back to her with the promised snack, water, and an added bottle of Tylenol, knowing she’ll be grateful for the medication tomorrow morning. I was expecting to see her in bed, but she’s standing in the hallway, pulling her hair out of her bun, seemingly waiting for me.
“Not going to bed?” I ask her, tilting my head toward her bedroom.
“Not yet. I need to wait for Liam to be in bed before going to bed,” she says with determination as she grabs the granola bar from my hand, quickly opening it and taking a bite.
I let her chew, intrigued as to why she needs to wait for me to be in bed before going to bed herself, and still trying hard not to laugh at the fact that she doesn’t realize that she’s talking to me—Liam.
She doesn’t elaborate though, instead wordlessly finishes her granola bar, reaches for the bottle of water I’m holding, and takes the two Tylenol tablets I offer her.
Suddenly, she says, “Okay, Liam, you go to bed, so I can go to bed.”
“How about we get you to bed first, then I go to bed,” I counter.
“No,” she stubbornly replies, crossing her arms around her chest. It’s almost comical how she thinks she can boss me around.
Actually, as it turns out, she can . . .
Because after trying to guide her to bed multiple times, I end up going to my room and lying in bed while she watches me before she goes back to her room.
I don’t sleep though. I’m going to wait a few minutes before going to check up on her—to make sure she actually went to bed.
Surprisingly, I don’t have to wait long to learn she isn’t in bed.
Not two minutes after I got in bed, she’s standing in my doorway with Gigi under her arm.
Before I can ask her what she needs, I hear her quietly, but still tipsily, tell Gigi: “Now, you know the rules. You can’t cuddle Liam, only me.
He can’t know we sleep here every night. ”
She sleeps here every night? Too stunned by what I just learned, I don’t say or do anything as I watch her oh so carefully pull the blankets back before scooting her way into bed beside me and placing Gigi in front of her under the blankets.
Next thing I know—still too shocked that she sneaks into my bed every night—she’s softly snoring beside me.
Is this why my sheets smell like peaches and vanilla all the time?
Already the smell is thicker in the air.
It doesn’t take me long to get my answer, though, because the next thing I know, she’s rolling over to cuddle right up next to me, laying her head on my chest and snaking one of her legs through mine.
In that moment, cocooned in her smell—my favorite smell—I feel the most at peace.
A peace I’ve never felt anywhere else before.
Unable to stop myself, I slowly start running my fingers through the soft waterfall of long, thick brown hair, earning a soft sigh from her mouth as she cuddles in closer to me.
I never understood how people could meditate.
How someone could be so utterly present in a moment that everything in their mind faded away.
Every time I’ve tried, my mind would wander to my next project, my next workout, what I was going to make as meal prep the next week, what book I should read next, the last episode of White Collar I watched.
I never seemed to be able to shut off my brain—the real reason behind my “resting bitch face” as Summer, my younger sister, likes to put it.
And quite honestly, as much as I tried to medicate and clear my mind—since my mom was always going on about its benefits—I never saw the appeal until now.
Right now, with Sloane in my arms, as if she truly wants to be there, I feel like I’m on a cloud. I’m just soaking her in—her smell, the flutter of her eyelids, her soft even breathing. In this moment, nothing else matters.
I don’t want to lose this.
She can’t know that she drunkenly gave her secret away though because I know her.
I know she’ll stop sneaking in if she knows her secret is out.