A second chance.
IV: Ronan
“How’d it go?” Shiloh asked as I crossed the sand to where she sat at the firepit in one of six beach chairs. She smiled in the late-afternoon sun.
I bent and kissed her, then sat beside her. “Good. I think he’ll be okay.”
“I hope so.” She shook her head, ringlets blowing across her cheek. “If you’d have asked me four years ago…”
“I know,” I said. “So damn weird. But it feels good. It feels right.”
Shiloh leaned over and kissed me again. “You’re a good man. The best.”
“Don’t know about that. But you’re my wife, so I must’ve done something right.”
Her smile was radiant. Happy. To think I had a hand in that blew my fucking mind. We’d been married for a year, and every day still felt like a dream, one that I never wanted to wake up from.
Voices sounded from down the path that led to the shack. Violet and Miller appeared, him with his guitar strapped to his back and carrying a cooler while helping his very pregnant wife along.
“I think I remember how to walk on sand,” Violet teased, then laughed as Shiloh and I hurried over. “You guys are too much,” Violet said after Shiloh hugged her and helped her to her chair. She was at least six months along but looked about ready to burst.
“I remember lugging one around in there,” Shiloh said. “I can’t imagine two.”
Violet laughed. “Neither can I. Neither canhe.” She jerked a thumb at Miller, who looked more tired and harried than his wife.
Shiloh beamed at Miller. “Because he’s taking the best care of you, aren’t you?” She kissed his cheek.
“I’m trying,” Miller said.
“He’s doing more thantrying,” Violet said, smiling fondly at him. “He’s amazing.”
“The both of you are,” Shiloh said warmly.
About six months ago, Miller and Violet adopted a foster child through the charity Miller’s last concert supported. Sam was a sweet, quiet kid who loved photography. They hadn’t planned on adding to their threesome so soon, but sometimes life had a way of making plans for you.
Miller and I clasped hands, and I relieved him of the cooler that was filled with hot dogs, buns, chips, and marshmallows. “Sit.”
He sank gratefully into the chair. Miller was a natural worrier, but I didn’t blame him. I’d missed Shiloh’s pregnancy. I’d missed so much that she’d endured alone. I envied Miller his worry; I’d have taken all of it from Shiloh had I been there.
But as Bibi liked to say, wallowing in regret was like choosing to drink from a poisoned well. We can never go back and fix our mistakes, only learn from them.
I glanced at Shiloh, my thoughts full of second chances.
I got the fire going as the sun began to sink into the ocean. More voices approached. Holden strode up, River Whitmore following, both carrying more coolers of food.
They stopped just outside the ring, Holden wearing an expression I’d never seen. Unsure. Nervous.
“Hey,” he said. “Everyone, you all know River.”
River gave a small wave, and it was so good to finally see him here.
Now we’re complete.
Violet gave a little cry and struggled to get out of her chair. Miller helped her to her feet, and she flew at River, hugging him and kissing his cheek.
“So happy you’re here!” She turned to Holden and smacked a kiss on his cheek too while River shook hands with Miller and me. Then Shiloh took her turn kissing Holden and welcoming River into our circle.
“How you doing?” I asked Holden with a grin. He looked dumbstruck, watching River with our friends, here at the shack, talking and laughing.