Page 273 of Things We Left Behind

We were all older. More things hurt getting out of bed in the morning. But I’d never felt better in my life. Being part of this circus of a family had healed so many scars I didn’t even know I carried. I’d stopped tattooing over the physical ones after watching my wife wear hers like a badge of honor.

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” Duke Morgan, Knox and Nash’s father, appeared in the open doorway. The man was dressed as Santa, and his wife was dressed as Mrs. Claus. On the porch was a red velvet sack overflowing with presents.

“Grandpa Santa’s here,” Nash, in uniform because he was on call, yelled. Lina was tucked into his side, her arms around his waist. Kids from all corners of the house ran to greet the newcomers.

Taking advantage of the distraction, I grabbed Sloane by the wrist and nodded toward the front door.

She grinned at me. We snuck our coats out of the closet and ducked outside onto the porch.

“There’s too many damn people in there,” I complained as she led me to the swing.

“You love it, and you know it, Lucifer.”

I did, and there was no hiding it despite my best efforts.

I pulled my wife into my side and covered us with the fleece blanket we kept on the porch for such escapes.

Sloane snuggled against me and let out a sigh of contentment. “Every year just keeps getting better,” she said.

I stroked my hand over her hair, currently a silver blond. It really did. My semiretirement hadn’t been the bump I’d expected it to be. Nolan and Lina had been promoted. The unbearably chipper Holly had moved in next door to us in my old house with her new husband to work with Sloane’s foundation. Between the library and her foundation, Sloane continued to amaze me with her generosity and tenacity.

We’d kept my place in the city, but it had taken buying a monstrous place in the Outer Banks to get Sloane to truly slow down. Every year, we wrangled the entire extended brood into a two-­week beach vacation. The kind I’d always dreamed of as a kid. With bonfires and fireworks and lazy days spent getting too much sun.

The life we’d built was the stuff of dreams.

Sloane sat up and looked at me with eager eyes. “I got you something.”

“You got me everything.”

“Said the rich guy who literally showers me with gifts on a daily basis. Do you think you can handle your anniversary present?”

I sighed. “Of course, but do it quickly before someone finds us out here.”

It had become yet another little tradition between just the two of us, sentimental gifts exchanged privately on our anniversary. This morning, I’d given Sloane hers, a custom-­made dress by the same designer who had made her wedding gown. She was wearing it now, and every time I looked directly at her, my heart beat just a little faster.

Smugly, she lifted a pillow from the end of the swing to reveal a package wrapped in red-­and-­green-­plaid paper.

I unearthed an acrylic frame from beneath the paper and lifted it free.

It was a single, perfect cherry blossom.

“It’s from our tree. I figured since you gave each kid a cutting that you should have something from it that you can enjoy all year-­round.”

I traced my fingers over the blossom that had symbolized so much for me for so long.

Hope. Love. Family.

All of it I’d earned. All of it Sloane had given me.

“It’s…uh… It’s…nice.” I managed to get the words out around the lump in my throat.

Sloane grinned, bouncing on the cushion. “I knew you’d love it!” She paused her victory dance as the sound of breaking glass, a chorus of “uh-­ohs,” and raucous barking sounded from inside. “Now, get your shit together before we go back in there.”

I chuckled and looked up to catch the winking angel on top of the porch tree. “He would have loved this,” I said.

“You know what else he would have loved? The dad and grandpa you are.”

I pulled her into my lap and framed her face with my hands. “All for you. Always.”