“Hi, I’m Spence.” He shoves his hand toward us, grinning and unapologetic. I like him already. He’s just as tall as us but leaner. He drapes his arm over Shaylee’s shoulders. “I see you already met the oops.”
She punches him in the ribs, and not softly if his grunt is any indication.
“Shut up, asshole. You two were the experiments. I get the professionals.”
He leaves his arm around her and kisses her temple. “If you say so.”
Shanna chimes in. “Maybe we could offer our guests some drinks before we horrify them with our sick banter.”
“I got it. Julian, come check out the fridge and pick something.” Jamie tosses his head toward the outdoor kitchen, so I start to follow.
I turn to look at Ever and ask what she wants.
“I’ll have whatever you’re having.” She smiles and answers before I can ask the question.
It’s exactly what I need to ground me—her smile, her presence, our connectedness. I smile back and follow Jamie to the fridge and pick two light beers from the plethora of drinks. I return just as Shaylee hooks her arm through Ever’s and turns her toward the French doors.
“C’mon, Ever. Let me give you the tour.”
Ever looks over her shoulder and finds my eyes.
I wink at her so she knows I’m good and take a seat at the outdoor dining table with the rest of the Ross family. Shanna wasn’t kidding about thesick banter.The Ross family are hysterically sarcastic but undeniably affectionate. I’ve not seen many family dynamics in my life—or any, really—but theirs is one to behold. It’s like a dirty Hallmark card. Warm and fuzzy, hilarious and enchanting. I find them intoxicating—like I can’t get enough. Like I’m cozy at home and on an exhilarating vacation all at once.
When Ever and Shaylee return from the tour, they join us at the table and seamlessly blend into the conversation in progress. Shanna leaves to check something in the kitchen and Jason gets up to check the meat on the grill, all while the conversation flows. Turns out the Ross family doesn’t like traditional Thanksgiving food. Jason is slow-cooking chicken and ribs on his grill and Shanna’s preparing all the side dishes that go with it—none being common holiday fare. This, too, captivates me. They’re not your traditional family, yet they are. I’m so caught up in it all, I haven’t once thought to breathe or felt anything but relaxed.
Jason stands up and announces, “I’ve got about thirty minutes left on the meat. Julian, care to take a walk with me on the beach?”
I nod and push my chair back from the table. Before I stand I look at Ever, who squeezes my hand. I kiss her cheek and follow Jason to the gate at the back of his yard.
He calls back, “Boys, help your mom. Shay, you get to entertain Ever.”
“We got you, Dad.”
“Don’t be late, Jase. Or I’ll let these boys take the meat off the grill.” Shanna is already through the doors back inside before he can respond.
“She runs a tight ship.” He chuckles and holds his hand out for me to precede him on the beach path.
The expanse of sand is mostly deserted except for a group playing football. We walk barefooted near the shore, having ditched our shoes at his gate. Jason doesn’t mince words and dives right in. I’m expecting it, but still his frankness impresses me. “You don’t seem like one for deep talks and sharing, but I just wanted to check in. See how you’re feeling about being here, meeting everyone.”
“I appreciate that.” My hands are tucked into the pockets of my shorts and I glance sideways into his face as we walk. “I, uh, I’m trying to be better about that. Talking about things.” I give a little laugh and go for it. “Therapy helps.”
“Did Ever get you to go to therapy?”
“No. I’ve had one I see off and on for years. Allie might’ve been the first to suggest it.”
“She’s quite the lady.”
“She is.” When I’d normally let that be my whole response, I add, “I’m very lucky to have met her. I guess I really owe all of this . . . my success to her.”
“No, son, you don’t. But I get why you’dsay that.”
Him calling me son puts a lump in my throat, but I don’t freak out. I just swallow the golf ball and focus on his words.
“She gave you the opportunities. What you did with them is on you. You’re incredible, Julian.” He stops walking and faces me, so I stop and face him, too. “I hope you don’t mind, and I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but I need to . . . I want you to know something. And I hope you’ll hear me out.” He waits, watching me, like he wants permission to continue. So I give him a nod, look him in the eyes—eyes like mine—and try not to fidget with the seam in my pocket. He takes a deep breath and exhales it slowly.
With the waves crashing behind him and the seagull cries ringing in my ears, he begins.
“I love you. You’re my son. You’re part of me, part of my family. I hate that I didn’t know about you all these years.” His eyes fill, which has pressure building behind mine. I blink to try to relieve it. “I want to be mad at her, Brandi. I do. And in some ways I am. Some people think addiction is a choice, some a disease. I think everyone is different and the truth might be somewhere in the middle. I want to believe that she knew you were mine and that’s why she named you Jayce. We may never know the real circumstances. But when I think about what your life was like compared to the one I could’ve given you, it breaks me. I’m so sorry, Julian. I can’t change it. It’s like what I said about Allie. We have this opportunity now. It’s up to us what we do with it. And I hope you’ll let me be your family—all of us. Because the moment I suspected, the moment I saw you and knew, I loved you.”
