Epilogue
"It's gonna be alright," Rush assured me, his hand grabbing my thigh in the car, putting a stop to the tap-tap-tapping I was doing.
Nervous.
I was nervous.
It wasn't a new sensation to me by any means, but the scenario was.
I was going to meet this family.
Sure, I'd met Fee. And Kingston. And even Atlas. But I hadn't met the rest. And I hadn't met his parental figures—Helen and Charlie—either.
The loan sharks.
Fiona had been a lot less subtle when explaining the whole family dynamic to me. I guess, being a member of the family for longer, she felt entitled to spill their secrets more than Rush did.
Charlie and Helen might have, on the surface, looked like fine, upstanding citizens who had their hands in many legitimate businesses and even some charities.
But under the surface, there was a network of criminal activity spanning back to the eighties.
When Charlie had started his loan shark operation after stealing the daughter of his former boss—a cocaine kingpin.
Their sons had been in the business as well. Until Hunter ran off to pursue tattooing in New York—and meeting and falling for Fee. And then, eventually, Eli found himself abruptly out of the business as well, leaving mostly Shane and Mark doing the dirty work, and Ryan handling the books.
So, not only was I going to meet the sort-of in-laws, but I was going to meet the loan-sharking in-laws, their kneecap-breaking children and their whole slew of grandchildren.
"I should have reasoned with Helen to get you another week," Rush said, and I found his borderline—if not outright—fear of the Mallick matriarch charming. He was like a little boy afraid of getting his hand caught in the cookie jar.
I felt like that said good things about Rush, but I had no idea what it said about Helen.
Was she a harsh, hard woman? Would she be nit-picky about the women who joined the lives of the men she saw as adopted children?
Would she weigh and measure and find me wanting?
My ex had a mother, but no other family. And I guess the experience of having her in my life had been somewhat traumatizing. Because she was one of those moms who thought her underachieving, lazy, selfish son walked on water, and no woman would ever be good enough for him.
I didn't keep the house clean enough.
I didn't cook him his favorite foods.
I didn't give him children.
Children he did not want, I might add. But changing that mindset was somehow on me.
How could I convince him to want a child when he was too busy being one himself?
I spent every holiday with my stomach in knots over having to go to her house.
Or, worse yet, have her come to mine. And because my mother was a mama bear in her own right, the two of them had gotten nearly into a fistfight one Christmas, making it so we had to split every holiday after into shifts. So I never had someone on my side.
I guess it never occurred to me during my marriage that my husband should have always been on my side.
"What are you thinking?” Rush asked, glancing over at me when we stopped at a red light. "The whole truth, not the half story," he clarified, knowing I had a tendency to sugarcoat things, to tip-toe around the true issues.
"I was just thinking about how my ex's mother used to treat me badly, and how he never said anything to try to stop it."
"We've established he's a dick," Rush agreed.
"But I'm figuring this has less to do with him and more to do with you being worried about meeting Helen.
I won't lie to you. If she thinks you're not the one, she probably won't be shy in saying that.
That said, no one has ever brought someone serious to one of her dinners and had Helen say anything angsty.
And beside that, I can't think of a single world where someone would talk shit about my woman in front of me, and I would stand there like a pussy and say nothing. That’s not how this works.
I know we're new, baby," he went on, giving my thigh another squeeze, "so I get why you don't just know this shit already.
But it is my plan to get you to that level of trust in me. "
"I trust you," I insisted. I did, too. Possibly more than I trusted anyone except my mother.
Maybe a big part of that was his ability to communicate his needs clearly, never sulking in a bad mood, refusing to tell me what was on his mind.
I always knew where I stood with him. That sense of balance was refreshing.
And it made it impossible to feel like the foundations were shaky, never forcing me into a panic mode.
The other part was likely his ability to read me, to accept me with all my many flaws. And even, not to see them as flaws at all.
"Never had to fight my own brain day in and day out, baby," he'd told me one night in bed. "That's got to be the most gangsta shit ever."
"It's going to be loud," he warned me again as we pulled up to the house, a sprawling home on lush green grounds, a few straggling yellow and red leaves littering the driveway and front walk, crunching under our feet as we got out of the car.
I wanted to tell him that it was okay, that I would be fine. But I learned not to make promises I couldn't keep when it came to how a situation was going to impact my mental health.
I hoped it would be fine, that I would find the racket charming and homey.
But I also knew there was the potential for it to overwhelm me, to stress me out.
I might need to excuse myself to the bathroom or the back porch to take a few calming breaths, get myself back together before I went into the thick of it again.
I figured this family would be understanding.
They'd welcomed Ryan's wife, Dusty, with open arms, never seeming to judge her for her anxiety issues.
"Helen's going to like that you cook," he added, squeezing my hand as we made it to the back door just as it burst open, sending a group of kids flying out, knocking into us as they squealed.
"Trial by fire," Rush told me, smiling. "It will be quieter now. There are more older kids right now than younger ones. They’ll probably be inside sulking that Helen won’t let them fuck around on their phones during Sunday dinner."
"There she is. The Crêpe Queen!" Atlas declared as soon as we moved into the living room, beaming over at me, light, carefree. I'd forced Rush to drop him off some extra crêpes when I'd made Rush his entire smorgasbord of them.
He'd paid me back by making a drawing of a six-hundred-pound him, surrounded by piles of empty plates.
Apparently, landscapes weren't his only forte.
I kept the picture, mostly because Rush wanted to take it and get it shrunk down to fit on a birthday card to give back to him next year.
I didn't pretend to understand brotherly love, but it seemed to have a lot to do with teasing the hell out of one another.
"Hey!" a voice called, coming into the room with multi-colored hair and tattoos. "How's the vibrator?" she asked, making Rush glance over at me, brows raised, as Atlas tried to stifle a laugh with a cough.
"I, uhm, what?" I asked, shaking my head.
"Fee. She gave you the vibe, right? That's a good one. I mean it has nothing on the little butterfly one you can wear hands-free, but it's good."
"I, ah, I haven't tried it," I told her, feeling my face heat up.
"Oh, that's right. You're in the 'oh your dick is as good as any battery-operated device' stage still, right?" she asked, whacking Rush on the arm.
"This is Peyton, in case that wasn't infinitely clear already," Rush introduced the woman whose reputation preceded her. "Peyton, Katie."
"Yep. And she's ours now," Peyton said, reaching out to grab my free arm, pulling me away from Rush. "Go on. The guys are checking out Charlie's new TV."
With that, I was pulled along with Peyton as Rush shot me an apologetic look.
He'd warned me they would take me. It sounded downright cult-ish when he'd first said it.
The reality was, I was pulled through to the kitchen where all the women were gathered around.
Some stood at the oversize island, breaking green beans or slicing up broccoli.
Others were sitting at the table, making desserts, sugar and flour all over the table, the floor, and themselves.
Others still were in front of the stove, stirring and checking inside.
"Kate!" Fiona greeted, waving a piece of lettuce on me.
"They're letting me help," she declared.
"I'm considering screwing it up, so I can continue my long streak of doing nothing but providing colorful commentary.
Guys, this is Kate," she said, pulling me toward her side and away from Peyton who barely seemed to notice as she went to pour herself a glass of wine.
"And Kate, this is," she started, sucking in a deep breath. "Peyton, Autumn, Savvy, Lea, Scotti, Jamie, Dusty, and, of course, Helen. Oh, and my minions over there. Becca, Izzy, and Mayla. That's a lot of names. No one expects you to remember everyone—“
"I think I know of everyone but Jamie," I admitted, looking over at the woman with the short hair, wearing a gray and blue flannel.
"Jamie. Peyton and Savvy's best friend," Fiona supplied.
"Hi," I said, giving her a smile.
"So... Rush has been talking about us, huh?" Peyton asked. "What did he say about me?"
"Ah, he said a lot of things about you," I admitted, smiling a bit at the stories.
"All bad, I hope," she said, shooting me a wink.
"What did he say about me?" another voice asked, making me turn to find the Mallick matriarch standing there.
The oldest woman in the room, she somehow also managed to be the most striking.
Tall, fit, with beautiful bone structure and long, thick hair, she carried herself with the bearing of a queen. But one who had seen battles herself.
She was even more intimidating in person than I had made her up to be in my head. Which was an impressive feat.
"That you took him and his siblings in like your own kids. And that you are a great cook. And that you would tell me to my face if you don't like me."