Page 66 of Afterglow

Did he say “us”?

“Of course we did!” says Alex emphatically.

“Well, then. It’s up to the mom-to-be. Food or presents first?” Delia asks, and I can’t help but laugh with confused delight.

“Um, food, I guess. Otherwise, my stomach will probably protest throughout the whole presents thing.”

Bryce nods. “True, let’s get you fed.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Bryce

Iexpected Leanne to be guarded throughout dinner but was surprised how quickly the tension radiating off her before we walked in melted away in the presence of my family. She opens up more with each joke, each question, and each small touch I offer in encouragement of her being wholly herself.

I don’t think I could have asked for a better night.

This table hasn’t felt this full in a long time, and Leanne sits by my side laughing as we eat our weight in steaming tomato bisque and the best grilled cheese I’ve ever tasted. Delia even made a huge salad, because she knows I usually eat pretty healthy, and to be honest, the amount of grilled cheese I’ve consumed lately is probably equal to the amount I’d had in the previous six years.

I try to ignore the looks Becca occasionally shoots my way—the ones saying “this looks like more than friends.” She’s absolutely right, and it feels like more too—at least for me. But I’m not going to push or force my way and end up losing it all. Not again. Leanne and I are trending in the right direction. She said she’d think about moving in with me when the baby comes. She kissed me—even if it was hardly more than a peck. And if I have to live forever as Leanne’s friend so we can do this together, then that’s what I’ll do.

If it’s what’s needed for me to keep her—them—I’ll do it.

“Presents!” Becca exclaims, jumping up from her seat and disappearing into the hallway. Bemused looks are shared around the table before she reappears with an armful of gifts. The teetering pile leans precariously, and I stand to help her get everything onto the table.

A small green gift bag with yellow paper is pushed in front of me, while all the rest find their way in front of Leanne.

“You really didn’t have to do all of this,” Leanne protests, not used to being the center of attention.

Well, too bad. She’s about to be not only the center of my whole world, but this family’s as well. Not that I’ll tell her that. Not yet.

“We wanted to! It’s not every day we have a reason to spoil this guy”—Delia hikes her thumb in my direction—“and we may be more than a little bit excited about this new little one.”

I love this family. They have zero qualms about accepting Leanne even after everything we lost when Sarah died. They’ve always accepted me exactly as I am. They welcomed me into their family when I had nothing and then furthermore when I married their daughter. Now, when they could be bitter and hurt, they’re showing the exact kind of love to Leanne they’ve always had for me.

I feel Leanne’s eyes on me before her hand slides onto my thigh under the table, offering me three squeezes of encouragement. That’s when I realize I’ve been staring silently at the small bag in my hands.

I shake myself and offer her a reassuring smile. “You start,” I say, pointing at her pile of gifts.

The large folded blanket isn’t wrapped, so it’s the first thing she reaches for. Her delicate hands travel over the soft fabric before curling under to caress the faux sherpa lining the other side.

“This is lovely,” Leanne says, pulling it closer like she might hug it. “Thank you.”

Delia beams and Becca pushes the basket of other gifts toward her. As she pulls out each item—fuzzy socks, bath salts, an inflatable bath pillow, waterproof noise cancelling headphones, ginger lollipops, a chocolate bar, and finally a printout with a picture of a large U-shaped pillow—Leanne’s eyes turn glassy, her walls falling more and more.

“This is way too much,” she finally whispers, the words thick. “None of this is even for the baby. It’s all for… me.”

“Of course it is. You should be pampered, dear. And there will be plenty of time to buy gifts for the baby later.” Delia winks and I shake my head, knowing exactly how carried away they can get. There wasn’t a week that went by during Sarah’s pregnancy where one gift or another wasn’t appearing on our stoop. “The pillow is being delivered to your house instead of here. The box is apparently enormous, so make sure you get Bryce to help you with it.”

“Mom, it has a pillow in it. She’ll be okay to get it in the house.” Becca rolls her eyes.

Leanne clears her throat to get my attention and silently begs me to take the attention onto myself. I offer her a wink and reach for my gift, noticing how my hand quakes slightly with nervous anticipation.

I pull the paper from the top and let it drop to the floor as I see the soft white cotton inside. The onesie barely takes up any space in my big palm when I pull it free. It’s tiny. And the Monarch Ranch brand is printed on the front in a burnt orange color.

As if all they’ve done up to this point wasn’t enough to solidify the knowledge of their excitement, of their acceptance of this new member of our family, this does it.

And there I go again, getting all choked up. Are these sympathy emotions or something? I’m not an uber emotional guy, yet my feelings have been bubbling just below the surface all evening.