A Forever Kind of Family (13 page)

She glanced down at her white knuckles. “Because, way back in the beginning, I said that there should be someone better suited to raising Oliver than us.”

He set the papers aside and reached for her hands, then unfurled her icy fingers and squeezed gently. “I guarantee you’re not the only one who thought so—that doesn’t make you responsible for this.”

“I invited her into the house,” she persisted. “I let her visit Oliver.”

“Of course you did. Regardless of the fact that she lost touch with her brother a long time ago, she’s still Oliver’s aunt.”

“We could lose Oliver,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“We’re
not
going to lose Oliver.”

She didn’t respond—she didn’t need to. The bleak expression on her face said it all.

He shifted closer and put his arms around her. To his surprise, she leaned into him rather than pulling away, and they both drew comfort from the embrace.

“I’ll call my cousin Jackson to see if he can give us a recommendation for a local attorney,” he told her. “But in the meantime, there’s no point in worrying about something we can’t control.”

“Is there something else I should worry about instead?”

His smile was wry. “I think you do enough worrying without a specific topic of concern.”

“Somebody needs to.”

“You think I’m not worried?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I have no idea what goes on in your mind.”

“Then I’ll tell you—not a single day has gone by since Darren and Melissa died that I haven’t woken up in a sweat. Every day I wonder how in hell I’m supposed to fill my best friend’s shoes and worry that I can’t possibly be everything that little boy wants and needs.”

“You always seemed so confident and capable,” she told him.

“Now you know the truth—I’m just as much in over my head as you are.”

She managed a laugh. “Because there was never any doubt that I was in over my head, was there?”

“No,” he admitted. “But we’re making progress—all of us.”

“Do you ever wonder...?”

“Do I ever wonder what?” he prompted.

“If Melissa and Darren might have made a different choice if they knew what happened between us the night of their wedding.”

His brows lifted. “You mean if they knew that we’d had incredible, mind-blowing sex?”

“I’ll concede to the sex,” she told him. “The superlatives are editorial.”

“The superlatives are just as much fact as the act.”

“You’re getting off topic.”

“I thought the topic was the night we spent together.” And thinking about that night, especially while Harper was still cuddled against his chest, was stirring not just his memories but his desires.

“No, the topic was our friends not knowing about that night,” she clarified.

“You’re thinking that if they did know, they wouldn’t have set up this joint guardianship because they would have realized we couldn’t live in close proximity and not end up in bed together again?”

“It’s been a real challenge,” she said drily. “But so far I’ve managed not to sneak naked into your bed.”

“No one would blame you if, in a moment of weakness, you did,” he assured her.

“I’d blame me,” she told him. “Right now we need to focus on Oliver.”

He rubbed her back, gently, soothingly. “I’ve heard that sex is an effective stress reliever.”

She snorted. “I’m not
that
stressed.”

But she didn’t pull away from him, so he let himself hold on to her a little while longer and think about the possibilities.

Chapter Nine

A
s promised, Ryan called his cousin Jackson, who was a lawyer in Pinehurst, New York, and got a recommendation for a local attorney. Then he called the attorney’s office and was given an appointment time of four o’clock the following afternoon.

Shelly Watts was of average height and build, but there was nothing else average about her. She had masses of wildly curling auburn hair, clear green eyes that were sharp and direct, a smile that was warm and genuine, and freckles covering every inch of visible skin.

She also had a confident manner that immediately put both of them at ease, along with a table in the corner of her office scattered with small toys, coloring books and crayons.

“I spent most of the morning in court,” Shelly said after introductions had been exchanged and they were seated on the other side of her desk. “As a result, I haven’t had a chance to do much more than skim the documents you dropped off, but it looks like a pretty straightforward custody dispute.” She flipped through the pages of the complaint again, then set it aside. “So my question to you is—how do you want to respond?”

“Is there a way to say ‘Go to hell’ in legalese?” Ryan asked.

“It’s instinctive to want to fight something like this,” Shelly told them. “But it’s not required.”

“What are you saying?” Harper said.

“You’re two young single people who have been entrusted with the responsibility of a minor child to whom you have no biological connection,” the lawyer explained patiently. “It’s not inconceivable that you might want to abdicate that responsibility to a willing party.”

“We’re not giving Oliver away,” she said firmly.

“I’m not suggesting that you should—I just want to make sure that you’re both committed to the child and the required course of action.”

“We are,” Ryan confirmed.

“Then let’s get started.”

* * *

“Do you feel better?” Ryan asked as they walked out of the lawyer’s office and into the early evening.

“I’m not sure.” She turned automatically toward the parking lot.

He paused on the sidewalk. “Marg & Rita’s will make you feel better.”

“How do you figure?”

“My cousin Tristyn says that margaritas make everything better. Plus, Marg & Rita’s has decent food and I’m hungry.”

“But Oliver—”

“Is with my parents,” he reminded her. “And considering that they already raised three boys, I’m pretty sure they can handle one toddler for a few hours.”

But he checked in with them anyway to make sure everything was okay and to ensure they didn’t mind keeping Oliver a little longer. His mother was thrilled to spend more time with the little boy she’d immediately designated her first grandchild, unconcerned with the fact that he wasn’t related to her by blood.

Ryan felt the same way. It didn’t matter that Oliver wasn’t his son—he was already looking forward to sharing all the important events in his life, from his first day of kindergarten to his first day of college. He wanted to teach him to play baseball and drive a car, to help with his math homework and commiserate with him over his first heartbreak.

He’d just hung up after talking to his mother when the waitress came to their table. Harper ordered a classic margarita and the chicken taco salad; Ryan asked for a Corona and the enchilada platter.

“This was one of Melissa’s favorite restaurants,” Harper told him, staring at the icy pale green liquid in her glass.

“I didn’t know that,” he admitted.

She nodded. “Darren did—he brought her here for dinner the night he proposed.”

“I thought he proposed in the movie theater.”

“He did. But they came here first. He’d planned to give her the ring at dinner, but he chickened out because the restaurant was crowded and he didn’t want too many witnesses if she said no to his proposal. So he waited until they were inside the darkened movie theater and put the ring in the popcorn box instead.”

She smiled a little at the memory. “Melissa always liked to joke about his ‘corny’ proposal, but I know she thought it was incredibly romantic.”

“It wouldn’t have been nearly as romantic if the ring had slipped to the bottom of the box and she’d thrown it into the garbage,” he noted.

“I don’t think he would have let that happen.”

“He was so nervous,” Ryan remembered. “I thought it was because he was the first of our group of college friends to take such a big step, but he said it was because she was such an integral part of his life and his heart, he couldn’t imagine a single day of his life without her.”

“He said that?”

“Sappy, huh?”

“It’s not sappy,” she denied. “It’s perfect.”

“Darren always was a romantic.”

She nodded. “And every year, on the anniversary of his proposal, he took Melissa back to the same movie theater.”

“I didn’t know that part,” Ryan admitted. “But it’s precisely that kind of thing that makes the rest of us look bad. It’s hard enough for a guy to remember birthdays and real anniversaries, but to remember the anniversary of the date that he proposed?”

“He also sent her flowers every year on the anniversary of the day they met,” she told him.

He shook his head in mock disapproval. “That kind of thing, too.”

“He loved her,” she said simply.

“He did,” Ryan confirmed, his tone serious now. “He fell for her hard and fast and never looked back.”

“They were good together,” Harper agreed. “I know they sometimes argued—and sometimes about stupid things—but there was never any doubt about their commitment to one another.”

“Why does that make you sad?” he asked, because he could tell by the emotions swirling in the depths of her chocolate-colored eyes and the wistful tone of her voice that it did.

“Talking about them in the past tense—it just feels so wrong. And it breaks my heart to realize that Oliver won’t have any real memories of how much his parents loved one another—and him.”

“He might not remember, but he’ll know,” Ryan said. “We’ll make sure that he knows.”

“Unless—”

He reached across the table to cover her hand with his own. “No one is going to take Oliver away from us.”

It wasn’t really a promise he could make, but she nodded, apparently reassured. Or at least pretending to be.

* * *

On Sunday morning, Harper got up early with the intention of being showered and dressed and ready to go before Oliver woke up. Ryan had invited her to brunch at his parents’ house—a Mother’s Day tradition in his family—but there was somewhere else she wanted to go first.

Of course, she should have known that Oliver wouldn’t cooperate with her plan, and when she went to get him up, she found that he was already awake—and so was Ryan.

“What are you doing up?” he asked. “I thought you’d take advantage of the opportunity to sleep in this morning.”

She shook her head. “Since you’re going to brunch at your parents’ house—”

“
We’re
going to brunch,” he interjected.

“Since
we’re
going to brunch at your parents’ house, I wanted to take Oliver for a short drive this morning.”

“Anywhere in particular?”

She could tell by the tone of his question that he already suspected her destination, so she nodded. “The cemetery.”

Oliver was obviously too young to understand the significance of the day, but she felt it was important to take some time to recognize the woman who had brought him into the world.

Ryan nodded, somehow instinctively understanding everything she couldn’t say. “Give me fifteen minutes to shower, and I’ll go with you.”

“You don’t have to,” she hastened to assure him.

His brows lifted. “Is there a reason you don’t want me to go with you?”

“Maybe I don’t want you to see me cry.”

“I’ve seen you cry before,” he reminded her.

She didn’t need him to remind her of the meltdown she’d had at the hospital—or the kiss that had followed. She’d spent far too much time thinking of the two kisses they’d shared in recent weeks, pondering Ryan’s insistence that the next move had to be hers and wondering if she’d ever have the courage to make that move—or even admit that she wanted to.

But the only move she was going to make this morning was out the door.

“Then we should get moving to make sure we’re not late for brunch.”

* * *

Harper was quiet throughout the drive, thinking about Melissa and wishing her friend could be here to celebrate this special day with her son. Melissa had loved Oliver so much, and it wasn’t just tragic but unfair that she’d been taken from his life so early.

“They say that as children grow, they lose the ability to retain any real memories of events that occurred prior to their third or fourth birthdays,” she said when Ryan pulled into the parking lot of Woodhaven Cemetery.

“Who says?”

“Most of the books I’ve been reading.”

“And you’re worried that Oliver won’t remember his parents,” he guessed.

She nodded. “We can talk about them and show him pictures, but there’s going to come a time when his memories will fade away.” She looked at the little boy in the back, playing with his beanbag puppy, and sighed. “Maybe they already have.”

“We can’t do anything about that,” Ryan said gently. “All we can do is give him the love and support that Melissa and Darren would have.”

She nodded. “And we will.”

“Up!” Oliver demanded when Ryan opened the back door to let him out of the car.

“Up,” he confirmed, lifting the baby into his arms.

“Woof!” The little boy held up his puppy.

“Woof! Woof!” Ryan said, making him giggle.

They walked side by side between the rows of markers. Ryan carried the baby on his left hip; Harper carried the bouquet of flowers in her right hand, her other linked with his. They might have different opinions and ideas about a lot of things, but in their commitment to honor their friends’ wishes, they were united, and she was glad he’d offered to come with her today.

The sun was high, the sky clear and blue, the grass lush and green. It was a picture-perfect day.

“It rained last Mother’s Day,” Harper told Ryan.

“How is it that you remember that?”

“Because Melissa told me that Darren had planned to celebrate the occasion with a picnic in the park, but it was too wet. Instead he pushed back the furniture and set up their picnic in the middle of the living room.”

“That sounds like something he would do.”

“They ate sandwiches off paper plates and drank wine out of plastic cups, and she loved every minute of it.”

And then Darren had shoved the picnic basket aside, laid his wife down on the blanket and made love to her—which was something they wouldn’t have been able to do in the park. So maybe the rain was a blessing after all, Melissa had confided. Of course, Harper didn’t share that part of her memory with Ryan.