Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ryan
I ran into Tammy in the produce section. She wheeled her cart over, spotting me and grinning.
"Ryan! Your hubby fixed Jackson's damn scooter last week. We fiddled with it forever, couldn't get it right. Ronan squats down for three minutes, and bam, it's good as new. God, the man's strong as hell."
"Yeah? That's great! But hey, Ronan's not my husband."
"Sure, sure." She tossed a bag of spinach into her cart. "I get it. Lots of folks aren't rushing into marriage these days."
"No, I mean..."
"It's fine, sweetie." She patted my shoulder. "What matters is he's good to Pedro. At that kindergarten family day last week, he had Pedro laughing his head off!"
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
"Let's grab coffee sometime!" Tammy pushed her cart away, leaving me standing there.
I wasn't mad. That was the part that bugged me. I should have been. People kept calling Ronan my husband, and my gut reaction was always to correct them, set the record straight, draw the line. But as I loaded bags into the car in the parking lot, my mind wasn't spinning with anger. It was warmth.
Ronan's presence in this town had grown impossible to ignore. Neighbors waved at him while mowing lawns in the morning. Mary texted him more than me. The kids at the clinic called him "big guy" and trailed after him, begging for piggyback rides.
He'd slipped into my life like that, quiet and unstoppable. No fighting it.
Back at the clinic, I tossed my keys on the desk. The office door banged open.
"Mommy!"
Pedro barreled in like a cannonball, slamming into my desk, hands gripping the edge, blue eyes blazing. Rose followed, steady and calm, clutching a file folder like a pro assistant.
"What's up, buddy? You're running like crazy." I grabbed a tissue and wiped sweat from his forehead.
"Mommy, Rose and I decided something huge! Super important!" Pedro craned his neck, face flushed with excitement.
"Oh yeah? What?" I shot Rose a smile, figuring it was about weekend playgrounds or who bathed Luna.
Pedro sucked in a big breath, like declaring war. "Rose said yes! If you say okay, Ronan can be my dad!"
"You... What?"
"Mommy! It's awesome!" Pedro rattled on. "Ronan's Rose's dad. If he's my dad, too, Rose is my sister. We voted! Two yeses! Just need you!"
"Mommy, you in?"
My mouth hung open, silent.
Rose gave me a helpless look, then darted her eyes away, pretending to study the hallway wall.
I crouched down to Pedro. "Why the sudden vote?"
"Today, Aiden asked if Ronan's my dad." Pedro's voice softened. "Said if he is, he's super jealous. Ronan's tall and cool, knows everything. Makes breakfast, crafts cat toys, tells stories—even if they're kinda bad—and he's crazy strong."
"I want a dad, and Ronan's perfect. Isn't he?"
My nose stung.
I knelt, took his little hands in mine.
"Pedro," I said. "This is big for Mommy, too. Give me time to think. Okay?"
His blue eyes dimmed.
"Oh, okay."
He let go, shuffled to the door, muttering to Rose, "Mommy says she'll think." Rose ruffled his hair, and they left together.
I sat alone in my chair, thoughts drifting to Ronan.
In the past two months, Ronan hadn't crossed a single line I'd drawn.
No talk of getting back together, no slip-ups around Pedro.
He always paused at the door, asking, "Can I come in?
" That restraint rattled me. I didn't know how to handle this patient Ronan.
All my walls were built for the old one.
I closed the clinic early. Pushing the door open, I hated interrupting the scene.
In the living room, Ronan sat cross-legged on the floor. Pedro perched on his lap, head against his chest, mouth slack, listening intently. Rose curled up on his left, arms around her knees, beaming.
A picture book lay open in front. Ronan read in the clumsiest voice ever.
"Then—" He turned the page, cleared his throat, dropped into a ridiculous growl. "The lion says, 'Who... dares... enter... my... territory!'"
"Wrong!" Pedro smacked the book. "Lion's gotta be meaner! Way meaner!"
Ronan tried fiercer. It came out like a mix of constipation and hiccups. Rose collapsed laughing on the carpet, shoulders shaking.
"Now the rabbit." Pedro pointed. "Cute voice!"
Ronan switched, pinching a squeaky falsetto.
"'Hello, Mr. Lion, can I borrow your territory for a sec—'"
Like a cartoon villain in opera.
Pedro laughed so hard he rolled off Ronan's lap, tumbling on the rug. Ronan scooped him back, one hand around his waist, the other flipping the page. It looked like any normal family.
Surrender was inevitable. But not yet.
I hung my bag on the hook, said hi, and headed to the kitchen.
After the cleanup, the kids were asleep, and I curled on the sofa for Lulu's video call.
She'd dyed her hair this lavender-gray shade. The background was her new apartment living room, walls plastered with band posters.
"So you're saying," Lulu held the phone higher, face close to the camera, "Ronan moved to California, makes you breakfast every day, volunteers at your clinic, and everyone's assuming he's your husband?"
"Pretty much."
"He bought a house."
"Ten-minute walk from mine."
Lulu went quiet for two seconds. Switched hands, flicked her new hair.
"Ryan. You still scared of him?"
I leaned back and stared at the ceiling. That question had looped in my head forever.
"Now... no."
"How so?"
"Not sure if he's really changed, or if Palo Alto's just too far from New York. Here, he wears sweaters, flips eggs, and reads parenting books. But what he's like back there, what's still going on in that world—I don't know."
Lulu didn't jump in. She tilted her head, purple strands falling over her shoulder.
"You still love him?"
She didn't push. Just watched.
"I'm not rushing you. But Ryan, you've proven for four years you can make it alone. But 'can' and 'want' aren't the same. You said it yourself."
Mary's call hit the clinic's front desk. Sarah rushed to my office, knocking, face tight. "Pedro's in trouble again." I apologized to the parent, grabbed my bag, and raced to the kindergarten.
Mary waited at the classroom door, looking helpless.
"This time, a kid said the guy picking him up looks like a bad guy."
I facepalmed. Did Ronan scare someone?
Inside, Pedro sat on a tiny blue chair in the corner, lips pursed, fists clenched white. Across from him, James on another chair, nose red, blood crusted under it. James's mom crouched, wiping, shooting me a dirty look.
"Mommy! James said Ronan looks like a bad guy!" Pedro jumped up. "Said movie villains look like that! But Ronan's not bad!"
"Pedro Harrison." I knelt, serious. "You hit him."
"He dissed Ronan first!"
"Doesn't matter. Hitting's wrong. I told you last time. You know that."
Pedro's mouth quivered, eyes reddening. But he bit back tears.
I apologized to James's mom. She softened. He wasn't hurt badly. I signed Mary's incident report and scooped Pedro up. He hugged my neck, face in my shoulder, mumbling the whole way.
"Ronan's good... not bad... Mommy, is he..."
I carried him down Palo Alto's quiet streets, sun dappling through plane trees.
"Mommy," he looked up, blue eyes teary. "Ronan's good, right?"
"Yeah," I said.
The word slipped out easier than I thought.
At home, Ronan waited on the porch.
He must've gotten Mary's call, too. Seeing me with Pedro, he tensed.
"I heard." He said.
"Yeah."
Pedro lifted his head, saw Ronan, and his tough face crumbled. Lips trembled, tears fell.
"Ronan." He reached out. "They said you're bad. I told them no."
Ronan glanced at me.
"Let me talk to him," he said. "Okay?"
"Sure."
I handed Pedro over. Ronan cradled him, whispered low—I couldn't hear from two steps away. Pedro nodded, wiping tears. Ronan cleaned his face and patted his head.
Pedro slid down and came to me.
"Mommy," head down. "I shouldn't hit. I'm sorry. Next time someone says bad stuff, I'll use words, not fists."
I knelt, hugged him.
"Good boy."
I bathed Pedro, got him in PJs, and planned to read his ocean animals book before bed. He burrowed under the covers to his chin. I sat, opened it.
"Mommy, is Ronan gone?" He asked.
"Not yet. Why?"
"I want him to read."
My hand froze on the page.
"Pedro, Ronan's heading out."
"No!" He grabbed my sleeve. "I want Ronan!"
"Pedro—"
His mouth drooped, eyes welling. Countdown to full meltdown—the kind that shook the house.
"Mommy, please."
Footsteps on the stairs. Rose poked her head in.
"Ryan," she coaxed. "Let Dad read. Pedro had a rough day."
I looked at Pedro's teary blues and Rose's concern—I caved.
"Go get him." I stood and set the book on the nightstand.
Rose dashed down. A minute later, Ronan appeared at the door, checking with me for final okay.
I stepped aside. He went in and sat by the bed. Pedro grabbed his wrist.
"Read this." Pedro shoved the book and flipped to the lion page.
I backed to the doorway. Rose mouthed "goodnight" and slipped to her room.
I leaned on the frame, out of sight, watching Ronan hunch over Pedro's bed, launching into his goofy voices.
Story done. Pedro didn't say goodnight.
"Ronan. Can you... be my dad?"
My nails dug into my palm.
"That needs your mom's okay."
"You'll ask her?"
"Yeah."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Pedro seemed content. Sheets rustled. Two minutes later, his breathing evened out.
Ronan left Pedro's room near eleven. Hallway wall light dim, just outlines. He shut the door softly. We locked eyes for a second.
"I should go." He grabbed his jacket at the entry. Hand on the knob, he froze. Fumbled in his pocket, turned with a frustrated look.
"Ryan, I think... I left my keys in the clinic break room."
I stared, eyes narrowing.
"Please, can I crash one night? Sofa, floor, even the porch..."
I should've kicked him out, locked up. But that pleading face left me speechless.
"Just tonight." I pointed at the living room sofa. "Tomorrow morning, you're gone from my sight."
"Yes, ma'am."