Page 71 of My Ex's Father
Tears fill my eyes, and my mom folds me into her arms.
I didn’t realize, until that moment, how much I’d missed her. Sure, I miss being able to share stuff with her—at home, we would always sit on the sofa together in the evenings and talk about our day over mugs of hot chocolate—but it’s far more than that. It’s simply knowing that she’s there. It’s seeing the unconditional love in her eyes. Her smile. Her safety.
“I’ve missed you too, baby.”
I sniff loudly. “Leave your coats on the stand, and I’ll introduce you to Declan and Orla.”
I’m nervous and excited. Nervous because I desperately want them to love Declan and I’m not sure what Carol is going to say to him. And excited, because all the people I love most in the world are together for the holidays.
Declan stands when we enter the kitchen, a wide smile on his face.
“Julia.” He greets my mom first with a warm hug. “We finally meet.”
“Hello, Declan.” Mom peers up at him—she’s shorter than me, and Declan must be at least six inches taller than her—appraising him before she says anything else. “Thank you for saving my baby.”
She approves.
Declan smiles. “You don’t have to thank me. I would rather die than let anything happen to her.”
He turns to Carol, whose expression is unfathomable. For a moment, I’m unsure who will speak first. Will Declan shake her hand formally, keeping his distance until he gets to know her a little better? Or will he hug her anyway and handle the consequences, whatever they might be?
Then he gives her the hand-hug, and Carol leans in so that he can kiss her cheek, a small smile on her face. “Let her out of your sight again, and you’ll have me to deal with,” she murmurs into his ear.
“Deal,” Declan says.
Then they’re hugging Orla, and the kitchen fills with the aroma of coffee and warm mince pies, and the conversation of families coming together for the holidays.
We sit around the table while the sun goes down. Orla, Mom, and I serve dinner, a casserole that I prepared this morning, with Orla’s homemade bread and roast potatoes. Declan opens a bottle of champagne to toast the occasion and holds my hand whenever I sit down beside him.
The house is filled with love and fairy lights and safety.
It’s everything I could’ve ever wanted, and a whole lot more.
“To family.” Declan raises his glass.
“To family,” we all echo to the soundtrack of chinking glasses.
