Page 129 of The Pact
We go downstairs together, and the house is finally quiet.
Saint turns off the kitchen light, checks the doors, then stops in the family room to look around.
There is so much evidence of a life we’re somehow building in real time.
“Well, I think that went well,” he says softly.
“I think so too. I could tell something was going on with Remy when we picked him up. Maybe us being gone last night worried him.”
He nods. “I thought about that too.”
“I can’t imagine what’s going on in their little minds. All of this must be so confusing. And scary.”
“Yeah, it’s hard because they’re so young.”
Saint stops and wraps his arms around me. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to keep thanking me.”
“Yeah,” he says. “I do.”
I close my eyes and hug him a little harder because I understand what he means. He’s not thanking me for marrying him or helping him. He’s thanking me for continuing to stay.
And maybe that’s the most important vow we make because we’re living it.
It feels like we stay wrapped in each other for a long time. Then finally, Saint kisses the top of my head. “Let’s call it a day. I want to get a run in before I hit the gym tomorrow.”
I look up at him. “I think that’s a great idea. You need to get back into your workout routine, or it’ll be hard to get back to it. OTAs will be here before you know it.”
His mouth curves faintly.
“What’s that look for?”
Then he ducks his head into my neck and starts kissing me.
I shake my head.“Uh-uh. Don’t get any ideas. I’m worn out.”
And for the first time today, he genuinely laughs. It’s a tired-sounding laugh, but it’s real. And that’s enough for tonight.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Saint
It’s hard to believe it’s been three months since Savannah and Chris died. Three months since the world split for me and for Remy and Rhyan, too. I feel like I’m still trying to wake up from a dream.
Being back in North Carolina opens some of the wounds that I thought were slowly healing. The cruel part about being here is that everything looks the same. But it’s spring now, and the trees are budding, and the grass is getting greener. Like life here moved on.
I’m standing at Savannah’s kitchen window, leaning against the countertop behind me, staring out into the backyard. It feels like it was just yesterday that I stood here with my sister.
Now we’re back here to … what? Negotiate? Compromise? To sit across from Chris’s parents and try to figure out a solution for the kids, like they’re a scheduling conflict rather than two small people with broken hearts?
I shut my eyes and pull in a deep breath to try to calm myself down.
Remy and Rhyan are at the Harts’ for the afternoon. When we pick them up later, we’ll sit down and try to find some sort of resolution. Or at the very least, start the conversation.
I hate every part of this. Not the visit. I want them to have their grandparents in their lives. And I truly mean that. Hell, I’ll fly Evelyn and Dennis up to New Jersey whenever they want. I’ll cover every hotel, flight, meal …anything and everything. And I’ll make sure they’re there for the big moments too, like hockey games, school plays, birthdays. I’m not trying to erase them.
But I’m also not going to let them take my sister’s kids away from me. Because Savannah and Chris chose me to raise them.
