Page 84 of Only for Tonight

“Your father would have liked her.”

I nod. My throat is doing the thing. “You said that before.”

“I’m saying it again.” She hands me a dripping plate. “He would have shown up at her apartment with groceries and stayed for three hours and pretended he was just in the neighborhood.”

I laugh because that’s exactly what he would have done. “Yeah. He would have.”

She’s quiet for a moment, scrubbing a pot that’s already clean. “You’re like him, you know. More than you think. The stubbornness, the need to fix things, the way you love—all at once, no half measures.” She glances at me. “He was the same. Drove me crazy half the time.”

“Only half?”

“Don’t be smart.” She swats me with a dish towel, then folds it carefully and hangs it on the oven handle. “I’m proud of you. Not for the football. For this.” She tips her head toward the living room, toward the sound of Ryleigh’s voice. “For choosing well.”

I don’t say anything. I pull her into a hug instead—this small, fierce woman who raised four kids on her own after my father died and never once let us see her break—and she pats my back twice, the way she does, and then pushes me away.

“Go. Be with your family. I’ll finish here.”

“Ma—”

“Go.”

I go. I find Ryleigh on the floor, Ella in her lap, Tracey’s son showing her a toy truck with great seriousness while Tracey’s daughter tries to put a hair clip on Ella’s head. Ella has approximately seven strands of hair, so the clip keeps sliding off, and the toddler keeps trying, and Ryleigh keeps catching it before it hits the floor.

She looks up when I sit down beside her. Her hair’s coming loose from her bun. Her cheeks are slightly pink. The ring glints on her left hand as she catches the hair clip again.

“Your mom okay?”

“Yeah. She’s good.” I put my arm around her, and Ella immediately grabs my finger. “She said my dad would have liked you.”

Ryleigh leans into me. “She told me that too.”

“She means it. She doesn’t say things she doesn’t mean.”

“I know. That’s what makes it—” She pauses. Swallows.

Tracey’s son drives his truck up my leg, making engine noises. Ella watches, mesmerized, her mouth open in a tiny O. Valerie is arguing with Ana about something in the kitchen. Jase looks half asleep in the armchair with a toddler on his chest.

This is my family. Loud, opinionated, relentless, and so full of love it sometimes feels like the walls can barely hold it.

And Ryleigh is part of it now. Ryleigh and Ella. Mine.

She tilts her head up, and I kiss her—brief, soft, tasting like wine and my mother’s cooking.

“Still want to marry into this circus?” I murmur.

She smiles against my mouth. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Epilogue

Alexei

Five years later . . .

“I don’t think I can do this,” Ryleigh whispers from the passenger side of the car, her hand resting on the round bump of her belly.

My stomach drops, and I reach over and place my hand on her knee. I hate the thought that she’s scared. “The glucose test? It’ll be fine. It’s just a quick blood draw. I’ll hold your hand and distract you. Anything you need.”

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head at me. “I’m not talking about the glucose test today.”