TWENTY-ONE
Colby
We decided to get dressed in sweats even though it was three a.m., only because the last trauma the kids needed was to catch us “cuddling” in Rip’s bed.
I was supposed to go back to my room hours ago.
But then I wanted wine.
Then he wanted cheese.
Then I needed a sandwich.
Then we grabbed some of the kids’ Pedialyte—for obvious reasons—and then we started talking.
Or maybe we just started healing.
Rip pulled me against his chest. “Favorite classic movie?”
“Casablanca. Fight me.”
“No fighting necessary, one hundred percent agree. Did you know that Humphrey Bogart was actually shorter than Ingrid Bergman? They had to put lifts in his shoes so he looked taller.”
“Oh my gosh, you’re one of those!” I slapped him on the stomach.
He frowned. “What do you mean, ‘one of those’?”
“You’re random-movie-fact guy!” I did a little dance next to him. “This means we’re going to win every trivia game ever on any game night we participate in! Monica was always the worst at movie trivia!”
“She couldn’t even quote Friends!” we said in unison.
“Brooks and I tried so hard with her too.” He sighed. “At the end of the day you just hope you raise your children right, and, well, in the end you’ve gotta cut the apron strings and let them go.”
I knew he was being semisarcastic, but Rip had basically raised her all on his own after their parents died when they were young. It wasn’t something either of them really talked about. He’d been in high school, she’d been in eighth grade. Their parents had left them money and a house, and they’d had a distant aunt who’d lived with them, then moved out the minute Rip turned eighteen and took full parental responsibility. All they had was each other.
And me.
They’d always had me.
And then Brooks.
Banks.
Our friends had become our family.
“I’m glad it’s you here with me,” I whispered in a small voice.
His green eyes filled with moisture. “I’m glad it’s you too, Colby.”
“You weren’t on day one of the great coparenting pact.”
“I was grieving—I still am, and it just… was so much. I mean, it still is, but…” He gripped my hand in his, then lifted it to his lips. “Every day gets better.”
“Every day does.” I leaned in to kiss him and was interrupted by the pitter-patter sound of feet and whispering.
“I don’t know, Aunt Colby wasn’t in there. I looked!” Ben said in a panicked voice. “Aunt Colby!” His whisper was more like a yell, like he was scared something had happened to me. It broke my heart as I nearly tripped over the blankets to get to the door and grab Ben. No matter what happened, I’d never leave this kid—never leave them.
They were mine.