The same framed photograph of Cora propped near the entrance, her smile soft and familiar.
I linger in the corner, playing the part of the grieving husband like I have been for the past year when a pair of blue eyes lock on mine from across the room, a spark of something blooming in my chest.
Just like happens every time I’ve stolen a glance at Rowan over the past few hours.
She sits at a round table near the windows with mymom and Dylan, the three of them bent toward Presley and Jemmy like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Presley’s smiling at something Rowan says, her hands moving animatedly as she signs. Jemmy babbles incessantly, like he’s contributing meaningfully to the conversation.
The entire scene seems so…normal. Rowan doesn’t look out of place with my family.
She looks like she belongs.
“Thought you could use this.”
A bottle appears in front of me, and I glance up to see my brother, Jude, sidling up beside me.
“Thanks,” I say, taking the beer from him. Of course, it’s from his brewery.
I can’t help but envy him. Envy all my siblings for having careers they love.
My brother, Beckham, is now the owner of a popular local vineyard. The expertise he has in cultivating grapes and turning them into wine is nothing short of remarkable.
Jude went to college for a bit but dropped out to pursue his passion…brewing beer. And his beer is now sold all over the country.
Finn is a lieutenant on the fire department, something he always dreamed of doing when he was a little boy.
Even my youngest sibling, Dylan, is chasing her dreams, having just started a private chef business with her friend from culinary school.
And then there’s me… Working with my father-in-law at a small-town family medical practice.
It’s a far cry from the emergency room at the busy Chicago hospital where I worked a year ago.
I take a long sip of beer, not realizing how much I needed it until the tension in my shoulders loosens a fraction. I can only imagine what Robert would say about me enjoying a drink during Cora’s memorial.
Right now, I don’t care.
“How are you holding up?” Jude asks, his voice filled with sincerity.
“Okay. All things considered.”
“Good.”
“I appreciate you being here. I know you’d probably rather be anywhere else. Hell,I’drather be anywhere else.”
“Even getting a root canal?” Jude retorts, tipping back his bottle.
“Definitely. At least there’s Novocain involved. And if you really need it, laughing gas.”
“How about doing your taxes?”
“Absolutely,” I answer without a moment’s hesitation. “And I’ll raise you doing them by hand with no internet.”
“Damn…” Jude exhales, chuckling under his breath. “How about a talent show on a cruise?”
I cringe. “Okay. That one might actually be worse than this.”
“See? It’s all about perspective.” Jude bumps my shoulder lightly. “For what it’s worth, I’m happy to be here for you. Even if I’d also prefer the root canal.”
I give him a smile, grateful to have the family I do.
