Page 145 of The Pact
“Hi, Presley,” Remy says happily. “I got good grades and graduated to second grade, so we got ice cream.”
Rhyan gasps. “I grad-ew-ated.”
“You sure did. You were the top of the class in snack time,” Presley teases.
Rhyan nods. “It was tough, Sera was on my tail.”
I scoop her up and tuck her under my arm like a football. “Don’t worry; we brought some home for you and Presley too.”
She squeals.
Remy laughs.
And for a second, I revel in the fact that the kids are smiling and seem … happy. This is how our summer is starting.
An ice cream celebration, with a sticky Rhyan, and Remy asking if he can frame his report card.
“Of course we can,” Presley says.
“I think my mom would’ve liked this.”
Presley holds up a hand. “I think we just got some new frames for your rooms. Let me go see if we have one in the right size.”
She comes back into the kitchen looking like she’s holding the Lombardi Trophy. “Got it!”
We set it beside a picture of Savannah, Chris, and the kids in the family room. Remy stands there a minute staring at them.
“What do you think Mom would say if she saw my report card?” he asks quietly.
I put a hand on his shoulder. “She’d say you were beyond awesome.”
Rhyan looks up from where she’s arranging plastic dragons on the counter. “Mommy would say I’m a queen.”
Presley smiles. “Definitely.”
I look back at the photo. My sister is smiling, and Chris’s arm is around her. The kids are tucked between them. I feel the ache hit, but it doesn’t take me under as much anymore.
We talk about them every day. Sometimes, it’s just little things, like Savannah’s favorite song. Or how Chris used to burn pancakes and try to cover the black spots with whipped cream.
Sometimes the kids cried. And sometimes we all did. Then there were times Presley held all three of us.
There are more laughs now though. More of our stories that don’t end in sobs. More memories when Remy remembers something funny and smiles first.
It feels like progress. Maybe slow and fragile, but progress all the same.
The rest of June was busy. Then Alie and Liam got married yesterday. The wedding was beautiful and mildly chaotic. Liam looked at Alie like she hung the moon. Alie cried before the vows, but denied it after and threatened Aston for mentioning it at the reception.
Presley and I danced under the lights. Remy and Rhyan danced with Sera and a whole slew of kids of Liam’s friends from Walker University, where he played in college. Rhyan convinced one of the kids to bow to her all night. And Remy laughed a lot.
This morning, Alie and Liam left for a short honeymoon, and we kept Sera with us. Which is how we end up with three kids, too many bags, and a plan to spend a few days at the Grants’ house in the Hamptons before training camp swallows the rest of the summer.
Evelyn and Dennis are coming up to stay at my house while Presley and I are at camp. We’ve stuck to our plan with calls, visits, shared calendars, and lots of pictures from school and sports events. We want to make them feel needed, and really, the kids need them too, which matters more.
“Are we almost there?” Rhyan whines.
“Yep, just a few more minutes until we get to the road that takes us to the house.” Presley looks into the backseat.
“Geez, Ry. Just sit still.” Remy grumps.
