Page 7

I arch a brow at Hayden. “Besties? Since when do you speak in slang?”
He reaches for his scotch, and before taking a sip, says, “Since I’ve had to listen to Liv go on and on about it at work.”
Olivia is one of our other sisters-in-law. Callan’s wife. She was our neighbor growing up, our lives all intertwined long before she married our brother last year. Liv’s a lawyer and works for Hayden at his law firm.
“Olivia and Madeline are close?” I ask. This is information I would usually know. However, my custody problems with my ex-wife have been taking up a lot of my attention the last few months and I’ve lost track of some family dynamics.
Olivia hears her name and joins our conversation, “What?”
Ethan looks at her. “Gage was asking if you and Maddie are close.”
She smiles. “Oh, us girls are all close. Though your mother might be winning the race for Maddie’s favorite family member.”
“That’s because Mom’s already taking over the nursery planning and Madeline loves all her ideas,” Callan comments from across the table, drawing everyone at the table into the conversation now.
“I’m not planning anything,” Mom protests, but her eyes light up at the mere mention of it. “I simply showed Madeline a few Pinterest boards. And some paint samples. And possibly called my interior designer?—”
“Mom.” Ethan’s voice carries that mix of affection and exasperation I’ve heard him use with her since Madeline joined our family and won our mother’s heart. “We talked about this.”
“What your son means,” Madeline cuts in, her hand resting on her bump, her smile directed at her husband before she glances at Mom, “is that we’d love your input when we get home.”
“A month,” Mom sighs dramatically. “What could possibly take a month?” This is the frustration of a woman who only had sons. She now has three daughters-in-law and is more than making up for not having had girls to dote on until now.
“Well,” Callan drawls, “when two people love each other very much?—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Olivia warns, but there’s a smile in her eyes.
“I was going to say that they need time to see Europe,” Callan protests as he places his arm across the back of her chair and grins at her.
Olivia rolls her eyes but angles herself closer to him so she can brush her lips across his.
“Speaking of vacations,” Bradford, my eldest brother, cuts in smoothly, “where are you two starting your honeymoon?”
“Paris,” Madeline answers, but Ethan shakes his head.
“No,” he says, smiling at his wife’s confusion. “I’ve got a surprise planned in London first.”
“Another camera shop?” Kristen, Bradford’s wife, teases, referencing the time he dragged us all on a shopping expedition that was meant to be a quick stop before lunch on one of our family weekends away.
“That was one time?—”
“Two hours, baby brother,” I remind him. “Luna almost finished an entire coloring book while you drooled over vintage lenses.”
“It was a rare find.” He shrugs but the grin on his face says he regrets nothing.
“Everything’s a rare find with you,” Callan points out. “Remember when he convinced Maddie that vintage guitar he found was ‘investment shopping’?”
“Oh, like you’re any better?” Olivia challenges. “Mr. I-need-another-watch-because-this-one-only-tells-time-in-three-zones.”
The conversation shifts into my family good-naturedly teasing each other and I find myself watching them rather than fully listening. Bradford and Kristen with their subtle touches and shared looks. Callan and Olivia sharing a connection that is twenty-plus years deep. Ethan and Madeline, still in their wedding-day glow but so in tune with each other.
While I’m taking it all in, a familiar feeling surfaces. The one I do my best to ignore. The one I’ve been outrunning for a long time.
For years, I’ve told myself I don’t want this. That I don’t need it. That Shayla and I gave it our best shot, and I’m better off focusing on Luna, on work, on anything but the wreckage I left behind.
But watching my brothers now, happy and settled, it’s harder to ignore the thoughts creeping in. The ones that whisper late at night when Luna’s asleep and everything’s too quiet. The ones that ask if maybe I do want this. If maybe I always have.
Today, though, the feeling is different. It’s the hollowness that comes from the realization I’ve never really had any of this. Not the way they do. Shayla and I burned too fast. The honeymoon period barely had time to settle before we were preparing for a baby, trading late nights out for sleepless nights in. And somewhere in the middle of all that, she changed. Or I did. Or maybe we both did, and neither of us knew how to fix it.