There was a heated discussion of college football, team rivalries, and the Bowl Championship Series ranking methodology underway after dinner. We were still seated around the table, now with coffee, whiskey, and pies. Judy and Shannon were upstairs with the baby and the Commodore was walking the dogs. The women were in the next room over with Riley, planning an outing for tomorrow.
Will had salt shakers and spoons lined up in front of him, each representing a different college conference, and Sam was leaning over, wagging a finger as he argued the SEC's dominance. Patrick was fixing his whiskey with a dash of coffee, and randomly interjecting thoughts like "Boise is completely underrated" and "I like North Carolina State this year" and "What happened to Stanford's offense?" He was drunk, but more than that, off in his own thoughts.
It all would've made for a typical Walsh gathering if not for Matt glaring at me from across the table. His jaw was locked hard enough to grind his molars to dust and his arms were banded over his chest.
"I see what you're saying," Will replied, pushing a spoon toward Sam. "But I don't see anyone shutting down Alabama."
"Clemson," Sam said, pushing the spoon back in protest. "I'm telling you, it's Clemson."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Matt yelled, throwing his hands up only to slam them on the table. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
Patrick shook his head, confused. "What's your problem with Clemson?" he asked.
Matt ignored him, instead staring straight at me. "You married my sister and didn't tell me," he roared. "For years. For fucking years!"
Will pointed at Sam and Patrick. "The Auburn game should be starting soon," he said. "Let's check that out." He glanced at Matt. "If you're going to kick his ass, do it outside. Don't trouble my wife with your issues either."
Once we were alone, I reached out and topped off his glass with an extra finger of whiskey. Did the same to mine. "We should've told you sooner," I said.
"You're damn right you should've told me sooner," he said, lifting the drink but putting it down before sipping. "I thought you were my fucking friend. I thought you were my best friend, like a brother."
"I know," I conceded. "I wanted to tell you. Erin did, too."
"But you didn't," he cried. "You fucking didn't, and you should have."
I scowled at the amber liquid in my glass for a moment. "I didn't think it was going to take this long to bring her home," I said.
He regarded me with a smug smile. "So you're familiar with my sister's stubborn side," he replied.
"Very familiar," I said. "Listen, Walsh. I was wrong, and I hated keeping this to myself. But I had to respect my wife's wishes. She didn't want to steal anything from Sam and Tiel's special day by putting the spotlight on us, and she didn't want to take anything away from you and Lauren either. You were the one who commissioned a babysitter for her. Y'all treat her like she's a punk-ass teenager. That shit needs to stop."
He turned his gaze to the table, eyes wide as he shook his head. "We don't know her anymore, Nick."
"I do. I know her," I said.
I was prepared for him to chuck an empty pie dish at my head, or lunge across the table and beat the snot out of me. But he didn't. His shoulders sagged as he blew out a breath. He reached for his glass, swirling the liquid before bringing it to his lips.
"She stopped emailing me," Matt said. He tapped his fist against the tabletop for a moment while he looked out the window. It was dark outside, save for the moon's glow illuminating the ocean below. "After the wedding, she stopped emailing me." He glanced back at me, his eyebrow arched. "That is, my wedding and yours." He drained his glass and gestured for me to do the same. "I didn't notice at first, but then I realized I wasn't hearing about her expeditions anymore. She only offered the details if I asked for them, and I thought I'd pushed her too far by asking her to return for the wedding. I thought she wanted some space." He laughed as he reached for the whiskey and refilled our glasses. "It turns out that she was saving her words for you."
I leaned back in my chair and drew my knuckles down my jaw. Matt was my family just as much as Erin, and I didn't want to lose him.
"Are we all right?" I asked.
"Is she back?" he asked. "Is she coming home now? For good?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "I don't know where we'll end up when she finishes her work at Oxford. But I know she's not gone for good."
Matt knocked his drink against mine, and then raised it up in salute. "We're all right."
"What are we doing out here again?" Matt asked, leaning against the wall with his phone in hand.
In the past hour, we'd emptied the whiskey, shared a pie, and—with some help from Sam and Will—offered Patrick all the marriage advice we had between us. Now
we were a few steps outside the nursery, listening while Shannon and Erin stood at the changing table, arguing.
About baby clothes.
"I honestly don't know," I said, glancing inside. "But you heard Riley. He said Erin was talking with the girls, and then something happened. I just want to make sure she's okay."
And by something happened, I meant that she walked out of a conversation about pedicures like she had hounds on her heels. According to Riley, she'd spent some time in the bathroom, then shared a cheesecake with the Commodore in the butler's pantry, and that was where she'd also bumped into Shannon. From there, they'd headed to the nursery.
"Okay, I get it. You've convinced me that you're not a cradle-robbing dickwaffle." Matt pointed down the hallway. "I'm gonna go find my wife."
"You do that," I said, leaning closer to hear their conversation.
"Shannon, no," Erin said impatiently. "She's not wearing that. It's too fucking pink, and lacy. She shouldn't look like a Victorian-era tea party."
"It's gorgeous," Shannon replied.
"Oh my God, why do you do this? It doesn't matter whether it's gorgeous because she's going to be so uncomfortable."
"It's not a goddamn corset," Shannon said.
"Might as well be," Erin muttered.
"Fine," Shannon said, throwing her hands up. "Let's put it on her, take pictures, and then change her into something else."
"That's ridiculous," Erin said. "You shouldn't stuff her into these poufy dresses and delicate things. She needs to be able to move around."
"She's an infant, Erin. She's not swinging from any monkey bars just yet," Shannon said. "Come on, help me get this on her."
"Abby doesn't look happy about this decision," Erin said, shifting the baby into a sitting position. "It's not too late to put on that cute little white sleeper, the one with the frog on the bum."
"But those are pajamas," Shannon said, bringing the dress over the baby's head. "We don't wear pajamas all day."
"No, that's exactly what you do when you're a baby," Erin argued. "The greatest part of being a baby is that you're allowed to wear pajamas all the time and look adorable doing it."
"I'm putting this damn dress on her," Shannon snapped. "Stop bitching about it and help me."
Laughing at that, I stepped into the nursery to find Erin cradling the baby in her arms. She hit me with a bright smile and beckoned me closer.
"Isn't this a splendid tablecloth that we've dressed Abby in?" she asked, completely facetious.
"I'm not getting in the middle of your debate." Holding out my hands, I said, "Let me see this little one. I haven't had a turn yet."
Erin placed Abby in my arms and then rejoined Shannon. They leaned against the changing table, their arms crossed and their heads tipped just a bit to the left, and it was as if they'd never been apart.
"Holy shit. Look at that," Erin murmured. She pointed to me, and I glanced down at Abby, confused. "I am having some very intense feelings at this moment."
Shannon nodded, saying, "I know, right? She loves it when Will takes off his shirt and cuddles her on his chest. You do realize that I'm going to be pregnant again within three months, don't you?"
"Whatever you do, don't take off your shirt," Erin said, stabbing a finger at me.
I loosened the buttons at my collar. "Are you sure about that? Skin-to-skin contact is outstanding for helping newborns regulate their body temperature."
"And ovulating on command," Shannon murmured.
"Shannon, take the baby," Erin said. "I need to talk to my husband."
"If I wasn't going to bring her back to my room and feed her now, I'd remind you that this is Froggie's nursery and no one kicks her out. We also have several other bedrooms, another family room on the fourth floor, and numerous walk-in closets," Shannon said as she settled the baby on her shoulder. "But we'll let it go this time."
Erin's gaze was fixed on mine, and though I'd expected to find her flustered and overwhelmed, she was calm. When the nursery door clicked shut behind Shannon and we were alone, I prowled toward Erin, gripping her hips and pinning her against the wall. "What's on your mind, lovely?"
"There's an old church, on an island off the Basque coast of Spain. They call it Gaztelugatxe, 'the stairs above the sea,'" she said, tracing the buttons down my shirt. "It was built in the tenth or eleventh century, and since then it's been attacked, burned, sacked. It's seen the Crusades, the Black Death, the Inquisition. It's been beat to shit, but it's always rebuilt."
"That's good," I said, nipping her jaw. "Can't let the bastards keep you down, right?"
"It's an island, but it's connected to the mainland by a narrow stone path," she said. "It looks like a long, thin wall that rose from the ocean floor to keep the island from drifting away, and even though wind and waves should've eroded it down by now, it's still standing. When you reach the church, you look out over everything—the hike from the mainland, the miles of sea and sky, the rocky shore—and it all seems improbable. Like none of it should have survived so much, and yet it has." She dragged her fingers through my hair and pulled me away from kissing her neck. "We shouldn't have survived, but we did."
"I told you we would," I said. "Love, and get your heart broken, and say fuck it, and love again and then again. Right? Isn't that it, Skip?"
"Yes, but…" Her voice trailed off, and she frowned at my chest. "But I don't think I can do the heartbreak thing again."
"Fuck no," I said, groaning. "That was awful."
She pouted, and it took all of my strength not to bite her lower lip. Then I thought better of that strength and bit her lip anyway.
"The next six months are going to be weird," she declared, her lips on my cheek. "I figure I can shuffle around my lab time. Between that, sessions at Oxford, and some of the conferences I'm attending, I can stay here while I'm working on my dissertation. I can stay with you."
I pulled back. I was certain I hadn't heard her correctly. All I could do was blink and breathe.
"And then, after my program is finished," she continued, seemingly unaware that she'd robbed me of words, "we need to find a place. Together, that is. We'll need more room for books, love. I'm sure we can find something in the same area so you're close to the hospital. Shannon said she'd be happy to help us—"
"You've already engaged Shannon's assistance," I sputtered.
"Is that okay?" she asked, her brows knitting together in concern. "She knows the market, and—"
I kissed her. Hard. A squeak sounded in the back of her throat and her head knocked against the wall and my thumbs were pressing into her cheekbones because she was staying. She was fucking staying.
"It's perfect," I breathed, my words spoken directly to her lips. "What about your research?"
She hummed, nodding. "There'll be research," she said. "Conferences, too. But we'll make it work for us, Nick. I think—I think I know what I want now. I think I get it."
My lips mapped her jaw, her cheeks, her eyelids. "What do you want, lovely?"
Her hands were on my shoulders, and a smile was tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I don't want to wait for our life to start," she said. "We've already—I've already—let so much time pass, but that ends here. We have this time, this totally inadequate time, and I want all of yours. I want birthdays and anniversaries and holidays, but I want the full moons and high tides, too."
"You can have them," I said. I couldn't look away from those green green green eyes if I tried.
"We should explore the world," she said. "That rural medicine program? The one in New Zealand? We should do that. We should get up and go and experience all of these things together because why the fuck not?"
"I'll take six months, a year, whatever," I said. "We can go to Madagascar, or wherever you want. I'll follow you anywhere."
"And I'll follow you." She tucked her hair behind her ears, taking a breath. "We should explore everything that we have right here, too. This family of ours, they're loud and nosy and opinionated, and none of that's about to change. But there are babies and weddings, and pedicures and farmers' markets, and those are adventures I don't want to miss. Not anymore."
"What changed for you?" I asked.
"I realized tonight that I don't need to stay away," she said. She squinted off into the distance, as if she didn't comprehend it herself. "And home, it's not a place. Not for me. It's people. It's you." She met my eyes and offered a shrug that told me she was as surprised about this as anyone. "Of course, all of this presumes that you want me and—"
"I want," I said, rocking against her. "I want, but I have some requests." I brought her fingers to my mouth, dragging the middle one between my lips. I caught the wedding band between my teeth and moved it to the proper finger. "This needs to be fixed immediately."
"Can I do it tomorrow?" she asked, a defiant smirk already in place. "Between lunch, pedicures, and baby shower planning? Or are we troubling the local goldsmith this evening?"
I wrapped my hands around her ass and lifted her up, growling the entire way. "Tomorrow will be fine," I said.
"While we're there," she started, reaching for my left hand and kissing my fourth finger, "we'll get one for you, too."
"And come Monday, we get to work on dropping that maiden name, darlin'. I know it's old-fashioned but that doesn't make me want it any less. You can keep your maiden name professionally, but when you come home to me, you're mine. All mine." I kissed her, slow and soft this time. "After we do all that, we're finding a few days for a trip to Dallas. Understood?"
"All of it, Nick. But first," she said, her words rushing out in a heavy breath, "we have to find Bartlett. And this time, we're bringing a marriage license with us."