She settled on the stool beside me, yawning as she re-tied her ponytail. "There's cheesecake in the fridge. Go grab that, and I won't say anything about the missing pies."
"Roger that," the Commodore murmured, and he darted from the room. He was gone and back within a blink, and I didn't know how any human could move that quickly while also being dead silent. He set the plate in front of Shannon, and dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. "I'll be listening for Froggie. You eat."
Then, in a gesture I'd never known I wanted from him or any man, he squeezed my shoulders and kissed my head, too. "Don't forget what I said. You're mighty."
I gazed at my hands while a throb of emotion stuck in my throat.
"He's stealthy like that," Shannon said. "Acts all tough and stern. Basically threatens to kill Matt every time he sees him. Then he turns into a big, sweet teddy bear."
"Jesus," I said, clearing my throat.
"Yeah," Shannon said, laughing. "Let's take these snacks upstairs. We can dress up the baby and take pictures of her."
"Oh, yeah," I said, pressing the foil remnants over the pie. "We're definitely doing that."
Chapter Thirty-Five
Nick
There wasa heated discussion of college football, team rivalries, and the Bowl Championship Series ranking methodology underway after dinner. We were still seated around the table, now with coffee, whiskey, and pies. Judy and Shannon were upstairs with the baby and the Commodore was walking the dogs. The women were in the next room over with Riley, planning an outing for tomorrow.
Will had salt shakers and spoons lined up in front of him, each representing a different college conference, and Sam was leaning over, wagging a finger as he argued the SEC's dominance. Patrick was fixing his whiskey with a dash of coffee, and randomly interjecting thoughts like "Boise is completely underrated" and "I like North Carolina State this year" and "What happened to Stanford's offense?" He was drunk, but more than that, off in his own thoughts.
It all would've made for a typical Walsh gathering if not for Matt glaring at me from across the table. His jaw was locked hard enough to grind his molars to dust and his arms were banded over his chest.
"I see what you're saying," Will replied, pushing a spoon toward Sam. "But I don't see anyone shutting down Alabama."
"Clemson," Sam said, pushing the spoon back in protest. "I'm telling you, it's Clemson."
"Are youfuckingkidding me?" Matt yelled, throwing his hands up only to slam them on the table. "Are you fuckingkiddingme?"
Patrick shook his head, confused. "What's your problem with Clemson?" he asked.
Matt ignored him, instead staring straight at me. "You marriedmy sisterand didn't tell me," he roared. "For years. For fuckingyears!"
Will pointed at Sam and Patrick. "The Boise State game should be starting soon," he said. "Let's check that out." He glanced at Matt. "If you're going to kick his ass, do it outside. Don't trouble my wife with your issues either."
Once we were alone, I reached out and topped off his glass with an extra finger of whiskey. Did the same to mine. "We should've told you sooner," I said.
"You're damn right you should've told me sooner," he said, lifting the drink but putting it down before sipping. "I thought you were my fucking friend. I thought you were mybestfriend, like a brother."
"I know," I conceded. "I wanted to tell you. Erin did, too."
"But you didn't," he cried. "You fucking didn't, and you should have."
I scowled at the amber liquid in my glass for a moment. "I didn't think it was going to take this long to bring her home," I said.
He regarded me with a smug smile. "So you're familiar with my sister's stubborn side," he replied.
"Very familiar," I said. "Listen, Walsh. I was wrong, and I hated keeping this to myself. But I had to respect my wife's wishes. She didn't want to steal anything from Sam and Tiel's special day by putting the spotlight on us, and she didn't want to take anything away from you and Lauren either. You were the one who commissioned ababysitterfor her. Y'all treat her like she's a punk-ass teenager. That shit needs to stop."
He turned his gaze to the table, eyes wide as he shook his head. "We don't know her anymore, Nick."
"I do. I know her," I said.
I was prepared for him to chuck an empty pie dish at my head, or lunge across the table and beat the snot out of me. But he didn't. His shoulders sagged as he blew out a breath. He reached for his glass, swirling the liquid before bringing it to his lips.
"She stopped emailing me," Matt said. He tapped his fist against the tabletop for a moment while he looked out the window. It was dark outside, save for the moon's glow illuminating the ocean below. "After the wedding, she stopped emailing me." He glanced back at me, his eyebrow arched. "That is, my weddingandyours." He drained his glass and gestured for me to do the same. "I didn't notice at first, but then I realized I wasn't hearing about her expeditions anymore. She only offered the details if I asked for them, and I thought I'd pushed her too far by asking her to return for the wedding. I thought she wanted some space." He laughed as he reached for the whiskey and refilled our glasses. "It turns out that she was saving her words for you."
