“What if they don’t like it?”
Matias’s burgeoning doubt burst out, insistent after weeks of worrying over his tasting room menu.
He gripped his tray of snack plates and sent Violet and Clara an apologetic grimace. They were carrying their own overflowing trays, ready to feed his experimental menu to their family and friends. The two women were both so excited about today’s gathering. He felt guilty painting over their optimism with any negativity.
“Mati?” Violet said. “Has anyone ever not loved your food?”
“I’ve had some duds,” he protested.
His new pub manager stood at Violet’s side, a look of patient understanding on her face. “Not today, you don’t.”
He scanned the assortment of food one last time. It was their third trip out to the tables with snack deliveries. Was he forgetting anything?
Taster spoons of lomi lomi salmon filled Violet’s tray. He’d stayed true to his aunt’s recipe. For most of the other dishes, he’d played around with them a little, pulling in some of his favorite flavors or techniques. Kellan had given him a hand with the balance on a few of them. In particular, he couldn’t wait for everyone to try the mini poke bowls Clara carried. Jewel-bright nuggets of ahi dotted fluffy rice nestled into hollowed-out cucumbers. He and Kellan had thrown the bar’s furikake snack mix in a food processor one day, just to experiment, and had come out with the perfect salty-sweet crumble to sprinkle over the fish. And he predicted the purple sweet potato fries on his own tray would get inhaled in minutes.
Nerves still chewed at his stomach, though. He’d be lucky if he held down a bite of all the food ready to be enjoyed.
He led the way down the center of the brewery toward the seating area near the doors on the water side. Four long tables stretched the length of the brewery’s still-in-progress tasting area, already mostly full of the other menu offerings. Handmade by Franci’s dad, the tables filled the space well. He had plans to order more to be made, once he built up volume and turned the place into a tourist destination.
Archer sidled up to him, arms full of Iris, who was showing off her new bottom teeth with a drooly smile. “Need any help?”
Matias pulled his phone from his shorts pocket and snapped a few pictures of the spread. “Nope. I just want to document this for the website before the wild rumpus starts and it’s all gone.”
Archer laughed and leaned against one of the wooden fences. Matias had erected the barriers to keep the tanks and brewhouses visible for the more dedicated beer tasters while still separating out his workspace.
He shook his head. He couldn’t really call it his space anymore. It was early July, and his ex-partner showed no signs of moving back to Portland.
Nor did Matias want the guy to leave.
Lawson was over by the row of tanks, showing something to Violet’s parents, who’d come to the island for the menu tasting.
Archer followed Matias’s gaze. “Never thought I’d see him at the same party as my family again.”
“I know,” he said. “But Violet’s determined to support me needing him here.” He shook his head. “And goddamn, I really do need him. I couldn’t have made this much progress without him. Kellan’s been the perfect partner when it comes to finances and food, but as much as he loves beer, he doesn’t know how to make it. Lawson, though, he’s always had a gift.”
The man in question approached, carrying a serving tray of growlers. “You want to serve people, Kahale, or let everyone pour for themselves?”
“Serve on the end of the middle table, yeah? And we can’t forget the rhubarb shrub. Otherwise, Violet and Renata are going to get thirsty.”
“On it,” Lawson said, putting down the heavy tray and darting back toward what would eventually be the service bar.
Matias’s throat grew thick. He’d worked his ass off the last few months to get to this point, but he wouldn’t have accomplished any of it without the people sharing his tables.
As Matias started pouring beer, Archer stayed close by. Hitching Iris on his hip, he took the first sleeve of saison with his free hand. With an air of nonchalance, Archer watched Violet, who was circled up with Franci, Renata and Sam’s mom. The group was doubled over, howling about something.
“God, I love watching my wife laugh,” Archer said. “My sister, too.”
Matias paused his pouring. Any chance to catch Violet in stitches was worth slowing down. But even as he took in her vivid glee, jealousy tore through his stomach.
My wife.
He wished.
Archer’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that look for?”
He blanked his expression. “What look?”
“Staring at my sister like you’re a lost puppy. I thought you two were good.”
“I think so.” Unless I’m starting to want something she can’t give. “I mean, we are,” he corrected, not wanting his friend to start digging. “For sure.”
She hadn’t said anything about getting married, though, which he respected.
But it didn’t stop him from envying the gold band on his friend’s left hand.
Knuckles aching around the neck of the growler, he eased up on his grip and finished pouring a row of glasses.
Once the crowd was seated and the tables were overflowing with the people he loved, as well as the food he’d put so much of himself and his family history into, someone clinked a glass.
“Speech!” Franci shouted.
He glared at her from his spot at the head of one of the middle tables. Violet sat on his left and his aunt and uncle on his right.
Franci smiled unapologetically and rapped her glass with a flurry of her fork.
He waved off the request. “Isn’t that for weddings?”
“Then pretend you’re getting married and spin us a yarn,” Kellan said from the other end of the table.
“I’d rather not pretend,” he muttered.
Violet jerked in her seat.
His aunt’s eyes widened, and she stilled, serving tongs hovering over the plate of sweet potato fries.
Ah, hell.
“Kidding,” he blurted, jolting to his feet and squeezing Violet’s shoulder. “You really want to hear a cheesy speech?”
“Yes!” A bunch of people shouted it at once.
Violet, cheeks pale, rose. “Sorry. I need air.”
“I’ll wait, then,” he said.
“Don’t.” She rushed past the tables of curious people and slipped out the side door.
Double hell.
For a big warehouse full of equipment, the place managed to be mighty silent when the crowd stopped talking and started staring at him.
Forcing a grin, he scrambled for something to say. “Pregnancy’s not for the weak, right?”
Heads nodded.
“Tell me about it!” Renata called out, rubbing her back with a wince.
“The people want a story, Mati!” Kellan encouraged, in clear rescue mode.
Matias stared at the doorway through which Violet had disappeared.
Goddamn it. There were some moments in life where it was impossible to make everyone happy at the same time.
“It’ll have to be short,” he replied. He’d placate his crowd first and then wouldn’t have to worry about how long it took to fix the damage he’d done with his big mouth. “Let’s keep the story to how there was a teenager who liked to ferment whatever he could get his hands on, hiding his efforts in a corner of the garage where his aunt and uncle never went.”
“We pretended not to notice, honey,” Mele said with a wink.
Emotion thickened his throat, and he swallowed. “Somehow, it turned into this. Mostly due to some key assists from the people at these tables. And a whole lot from the woman who just scooted out to get some air. Who I need to follow. But all of you should dig in. Drink up.” He lifted his drink for a toast. All these people who, when you added together all their efforts and love, were immeasurable. His eyes stung. “Hau‘oli maoli oe.”
After kissing his aunt and uncle on their cheeks, he headed outside.
Violet was way down the wooden boardwalk, almost all the way to Sam’s shop. She faced the ocean with her forearms resting on the railing. Dark brown curls—he’d watched her painstakingly put them there with a curling iron this morning—blew around her shoulders.
“Violet?” he called out, closing the distance.
She stared straight ahead, at the boats in the harbor below her.
“I’m sorry.” He leaned on the railing next to her. “I shouldn’t have let that slip out. It was unfair of me to say it in a crowd.”
“What about not in a crowd?”
“I don’t understand,” he said.
“Did you mean it?”
He let the question hang in the air for a bit. He wanted to finesse his answer.
But in the end, it was pretty simple.
“Recently?” He turned his gaze to her. She was staring out at the eagle’s nest on the far breakwater. “Yes.”
Eyes fixed on the giant roost, she nodded. “Then you needed to say it. I need to know how you’re feeling. But you’re right, not in front of our entire families. Leaving me to look like I’m the one holding us back.” Her words were strangled. “Leaving me feeling like crap for not being enough for you.”
“Damn it, Violet. I’m so sorry. You are fully enough. You matter more than any ring. Or any vow.”
“Okay, but it’s still normal for you to want those things.” She sniffled. “We’ve held way too much in, Matias. Especially something big like that.”
“Something big that you don’t want.”
She finally turned toward him. “It isn’t what I’ve wanted for a long time.” Her throat bobbed. “And I’m shocked you’re already thinking of it.”
“You’re shocked I want to marry the woman I love?”
A dry laugh escaped her. “Um, yeah. What if our feelings about being parents have gotten mixed up with romance? We’re already taking on this huge commitment. It’s going to affect another human being. We need to be as level-headed as we can. Wanting to get married this fast is not that.”
His gut lurched. “We’re not mixed up, Violet. We...we just fell in love. Honestly, we probably started to earlier than either of us have been willing to admit.”
“Maybe,” she whispered.
“I don’t think having a conversation about legalities is unreasonable.”
“Of course not.” He could barely hear her words.
“We’ve been hopping back and forth between my place and yours for a while now, and even though I love waking up together no matter what bed we’re in, I’m starting to itch for something more permanent. I don’t want to have to pass our kid back and forth between us.” He shuddered. “I hate the thought of doing that, Violet. Really hate it. We can’t only talk about being a family. We have to actually be a family. As in doing it.”
She paled. “In a few months, you’ve gone from us being friends to walking down the aisle together—”
“Five months.”
“Lawson and I were together for years and we still screwed it up,” she said.
“You know,” he said, choking on his frustration, “one of these days, I’d love it if we could judge our relationship on its own merits rather than comparing it to the past. We aren’t the same people we were then. And I am not Lawson.”
Her mouth gaped for a few long seconds.
“I—” He was about to apologize but stopped. What he’d said was true. “Franci and Archer got married fast. In less than five months. And you stood at the altar and supported them.”
“And?”
And I want you to stand up for us.
“I know our pasts shaped us,” he said. “But if we’re going to move forward together, we need to look at all my too-shallow relationships and your breakup with Lawson as lessons, not as harbingers of future failures. It’s... I know what it’s like to be in a relationship with someone who’s emotionally unavailable. The people who brought me into the world, no less.”
Her brows knitted. “I remind you of your parents?”
“No, Violet. That’s not what I meant. Guarding your heart after a loss—a few of them—isn’t selfish. It’s necessary, for a while. But maybe...” He gripped the wood railing, desperate to hold her but damn well knowing she’d reach out if she wanted the contact. And she wasn’t. “Would you trust me to help you guard your heart? I’m here. Willing to be your partner.”
“It’s not... I mean, it’s overwhelming. Getting married—”
“You’re latching on to that one part and missing the important bits. I’m not saying I want to get married tomorrow. But I want something beyond packing an overnight bag and slinking up to your apartment a few times a week—”
“I can’t do that yet.” She’d been avoiding his gaze, but she didn’t when she said those words.
The declaration smacked into his chest like a cannonball.
He forced himself to breathe. “Can’t do what, exactly?”
“Make that kind of plan. I need more time. To think.” She curved her arms around her belly.
“And where do I fit, while you’re thinking?”
“I don’t know. What this will look like in the future... It’s unclear to me, still. And I can’t handle the thought of disappointing you if what I want isn’t what you want.”
It was so tempting to lash out, to tell her that she was disappointing him now. But that wouldn’t be fair. She was just being honest about her feelings.
“How much time do you think you’ll need?” he asked quietly.
She lifted her hands palms-up. “I’ve never gotten this far in a pregnancy before. It’s so new, and I—”
“Violet!”
They both turned toward the panicked shout.
Grant Macdonald’s sister, Fable, sprinted toward them. She was Renata’s partner in their glassworks business and usually a relaxed, cheerful person.
Her complexion was as gray as if she’d seen a poltergeist descending from the warehouse rafters.
Clearly, figuring out what Violet needed was going to have to wait.
Violet straightened, her expression shifting to all business. “What’s wrong?”
“Renata tripped,” Fable shouted.
Violet started jogging toward the other woman. “Tell me more.”
“Coming back from the bathroom. Her shoelace was undone. She hit the floor. Then s-screamed.”
“Okay. Breathe, Fabes.”
The boardwalk blurred under his feet. They only stopped when they were in the warehouse and Violet reached Renata’s side, a few yards away from the table closest to the door. She was on the ground, on her side. Tears streaked her face, which was scrunched in pain.
Archer knelt close, holding her neck and head immobile.
Matias’s heart hammered. His friend hated having to put his medic training to use, but he was damn good at it.
“She was looking at her phone so didn’t get her hands out in time,” Archer said, his gaze locked on Violet’s. “She twisted, but still landed halfway on her belly. Hit her head on the floor, too. Didn’t lose consciousness.” He lowered his voice. “She’s bleeding. Franci’s calling 911.”
Violet got to the floor and started her own first aid survey.
Grant was sitting behind Renata, pale and grim, his hand on her shoulder. Matias had never witnessed a delivery, or complications, but yeah, that didn’t look like a healthy amount of bleeding. God, if it had been Violet and their baby injured on the ground, he’d be shaking as much as Grant, if not more.
Violet leaned in and said something in a low, soothing tone, gently palpating the other woman’s stomach.
Renata gasped.
With a hand still on Renata’s belly, Violet glanced over her shoulder, piercing Matias with serious blue eyes. “Matias, make sure Franci is talking to the county dispatcher. Air transport. I want to talk to them,” she clarified. “Then clear the guests out. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I understand.”
More than he’d like to.
Somewhere around hour three of Renata’s emergency, Grant fell apart in Violet’s arms in the middle of the hospital waiting room.
Thankfully, it was because Violet had come out of the operating room with news—Renata and their baby boy were fine after their emergency C-section.
He mumbled a torrent of gratitude and profanity, the odd mix muffled from him burying his face against her shoulder.
“Hey. Shh,” she soothed, gripping him tightly. She had enough adrenaline still running through her veins to keep him upright, though her strength was starting to wane.
“Sorry,” he sobbed.
“Don’t even with that.” She was honestly surprised he hadn’t broken down before now. “Today was probably the scariest day of your life. You deserve some tears.”
“Ren—and the baby—they’re okay.”
“Yes. They’re taking Renata to recovery, and the baby for newborn care, to keep him warm and fed. They’re assessing for breathing support. Totally expected for a thirty-five-week premie. He’s in amazing hands.”
His shoulders shook, and she clutched him tighter.
The last few hours had been harrowing, testing the limits of Violet’s training. She never relished the reminder of how being on an island could heighten already dire situations. The last complex birth she’d attended was Franci’s, but outside circumstances had complicated the delivery, not anything to do with Iris or Franci’s health or safety. Hell, Violet hadn’t even been the one to catch Iris. Archer had done that admirably. And the births she’d been present for since then had been uneventful, either home births or calm hospital deliveries.
With the urgency having subsided, Violet’s body was starting to slump and drag, from hormone surges and a wonky eating schedule and her argument with Matias. Oh, God. Had she really asked him for a break? It had seemed right in the moment, but now she was questioning every word that had come out of her mouth.
She took a deep breath. Her own needs would have to wait a little bit longer. Grant was still shaking.
“You held things together from minute one, staying calm for Renata,” she reminded him. Thank God for his lawyer’s brain—it had made managing the air ambulance membership, proof of insurance and intake forms seamless.
“When they kept me out of the operating room...” His voice was raw.
“I know, Mac. It’s rough it came to that.” He’d turned sheet white when the OB in maternity triage ordered an operating room and general anesthetic. With Renata’s placental abruption, there hadn’t been time for anything but.
“She’s going to blame herself,” he said. “A shoelace. What the hell?”
“Sometimes things go sideways.”
He straightened, wiping his red eyes with the back of his hand. His gaze dropped to her stomach. “How are you feeling? You’ve been on your feet for a while.”
“My feet can take it,” she said, motioning for him to follow her to the elevator. “And we have a new baby to meet.”
He stumbled along behind her. “What about Renata? I can’t be in two places at once.”
“That’s why you have me. Come say hello to your baby, and then you can come back and sit with Renata. You’ll be with her when she wakes up. I’ll stay with the baby. Or, if you want, the other way around. If Renata wakes up and I’m the one there because you’re with your son, she’ll understand.”
She stopped in front of the elevator and pressed the button.
He ran a hand down his exhausted face. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I know.” He wasn’t the first parent under her care who’d faced this decision.
“What would you want?” he croaked. “If this was you and Matias?”
The bell dinged, and the door opened. He motioned for her to go in first.
What do I want? Him. Just him. And the family we’re creating.
God, she’d been the worst earlier, letting her knee-jerk fears take over her mind, turning his simple desire—yes, a solemn and life-changing desire, but a completely understandable one—into a specter she’d needed to escape.
Nothing like a helicopter flight across the Salish Sea with a client on the verge of hemorrhage to remind her about what was in her control and what wasn’t. Health wasn’t guaranteed. Nor were pregnancy outcomes.
But relationships... Those, she could manage. Patience with herself, with Matias. Trust and conversation.
She couldn’t predict and plan her way into a fulfilling life. She could only control who she spent it with, and she wanted to spend hers with Matias. Even if he wanted a ring and vows to make it official. As long as she had him to hold her, they could figure out the rest.
But just like her relationship was unique, so would be her needs if she and Matias ended up with an emergency delivery. Answering Grant’s question wasn’t as easy as he’d probably hoped.
“Everyone is different, Mac. What’s right for me might not be what’s right for Renata. You know her best.” Her belly swooped as the elevator rose, making her a little lightheaded. She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath.
“Sure, but your perspective is important, too,” he said. “What would you want Mati to do?”
She bit her lip. The doors slid open, and she led the way onto the NICU floor. Hopefully the baby would be assessed as only needing level one care, so access would be easier.
“If the baby was awake or needed feeding or kangaroo care—skin-to-skin—I’d want Matias to be with the baby. If the baby was sleeping, I’d want him with me.”
“Alright, then. Until I can talk to Renata about it, I’ll start with that.”
“Lead the way.” Her head spun for a second. She breathed through the odd sensation and followed her friend. Post-adrenaline-rush symptoms were no joke, but seeing him meet his baby for the first time would be worth pushing through.