“Jack Taylor. The doctor will see you now.”
First Epilogue
Jack
Four years later
“I thinkI need to step outside.” Danielle’s face twisted in disgust. “I grew up on baked ziti, and now, the sight of tomato sauce makes me want to lurch.”
I laughed as I led her away from the buffet. “It will pass. Things could be worse. My mom had to be admitted into the hospital when she was pregnant with my sister because she couldn’t stop throwing up for weeks.”
“Babe, sayingthrow upmakes me want to throw up.” Her head jerked up. “Weeks?”
“Yep,” I nodded and rubbed my wife’s back. “Even back then, PJ was hard to deal with.”
“Wow, spending four months on another continent doesn’t stop my brother from talking shit about me when I get back” PJ scoffed as she came up to Danielle. “Are you feeling okay? You look a little green.”
“I’m fine.” She waved her hand at my sister. “Just a little worn out and tired. I’m going to get some air.”
“I’ll come with you.”
She gave me a stiff shake of her head. “No, I’ll be fine. Just need to perk up.” She gave my sister a quick hug before clutching her stomach. Seeing Danielle suffer was tough, but if she threw up on my sister, I would crack up. “When I get back I want to hear all about Paris, okay?” Danielle smiled wide but couldn’t hide her putrid condition.
“Congratulations, Daddy,” PJ whispered in my ear, chuckling at my wide-eyed reaction.
“I won’t tell, but Mom already has her suspicions. How far along is she?”
“Only a couple of months. She wants to wait until next month to start telling people, but I don’t know how much longer we can hide it.”
“Especially today.” She let out an exaggerated sigh. “You know how our family freaks out with stomach viruses. You’ll have to spill before someone throws her out. I can’t believe I’m going to be an aunt!” I shushed her when she let out a squeal.
Danielle and I were married a few months after we’d moved in together. We eloped and had come home to a fair amount of crap from both families. I didn’t care about a big wedding, and she’d felt weird inviting people to a second wedding. We both agreed the marriage was more important than the event itself, although we’d had plenty of friends and family blinking twice at us when we told them. When it’s right, it’s right, and waiting seemed pointless.
We didn’t tell anyone when we started trying for a baby either, but as usual, my family sniffed everything out.
“How does it feel to be back?” I asked my sister. “A Bronx engagement party probably seems boring compared to Paris.”
“Paris was amazing, but it’s good to be back. I was lucky to get to spend a semester abroad, but it was all class and museums broken up with amazing pastries and cheese. I’m paying for all that now.” I held in an eye roll when she rubbed her still flat stomach.
“You’re always welcome to run with me on the track. Provided you run and not yap in my ear the whole time.”
I laughed when she shoved my arm. I’d missed the hell out of teasing my sister.
“Is Dylan okay?” Her smile faded into a concerned frown. “He’s been acting weird. Was he weird when I was gone?”
“If by weird you mean spending too much time on our couch nursing a beer with a long face, then yes.” I arched an eyebrow.
“He was?” She cringed and cupped her forehead. “I knew it. He insisted he was fine with me leaving.”
“He was. He just missed you; that’s all. He’d never hold you back knowing how much you wanted to go.”
She nodded and peered into the reception hall. Dylan sat with my parents, laughing with my mom and being as much a part of the family as he always had. Over the years, Dylan and PJ had become a given rather than the scandal they’d been at the beginning.
My parents had seen how much he believed in her—sometimes being the extra push she’d needed. He did the same when she had the chance to spend a semester in Paris, even though he’d confided in me how terrified he was. He feared that while she was away, she’d discover she wanted more than the life she’d have with him back in New York, but we all knew that would never happen.
PJ’s life was all about two things: Dylan and art. But if she ever had to make a choice, it would always be Dylan. For him, it wasallPJ. Anyone in their presence for more than five minutes knew it, even Dad. Still, it had taken him two years to not glare at Dylan whenever he entered the room. He’d stopped trying to scare him when he realized he hadn’t needed to. Dylan would cut off his own arm before hurting my sister.
“Do you think Lucy will get married this time?” PJ asked with a snort.
