Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

When Cillian gets home from practice and joins us in the kitchen, we're still chatting around the table. But once he's there, the three boys go from casual conversation to thunderous laughter in the time it takes him to make a sandwich. It's all inside jokes, movie quotes, and childhood memories melded together in conversations that move at break-neck speeds. After a particularly loud round of laughter, Beau gives up and hops off my lap to escape to a quieter nap spot.

I love how the brothers fill the room with warmth and smiles and I love seeing Cole so carefree with Carson and Cillian. They all have a wide, easy grin they must have inherited from their dad and their laughter is so infectious, I can't help but smile along, even when I'm not in on the joke.

It makes me miss Julio immensely. Once Dad and I dropped him off at college, we struggled to stay in touch. He craves adventure, so his spring breaks and Christmas holidays were often spent wherever he could score a cheap flight to. Now, he's equally likely to FaceTime from a sandy beach in Jamaica or a mountaintop bar in Canada during ski season. We catch up briefly and we always end by saying "Love you," but we're not regularly in each other's lives anymore. We have a whole lifetime of memories between us and he used to be such an anchor point for me, but we've lost that over the past decade.

Cathy checks her watch, then announces she needs to excuse herself to go check in on some expectant mothers. "Boys, be good hosts, especially you, Cole. And clean the kitchen when you're done." She leaves with a look that I can tell has inspired godly fear in her sons for decades.

We all linger around the table for another half-hour or so, Carson and Cillian both making a concerted effort to include me and ask me questions. I learn that Cillian was quite the cross-country runner in high school, and chose to accept a full-ride scholarship to the local community college a few miles away, where he's studying to get his paramedic certification.

"Did your big brother being a corpsman have anything to do with picking that field of study?" I ask with a smile.

"I'll tell you when he's not listening," Cillian says with a wink.

"Clean-up time," Cole announces, whisking away our plates. The three guys clean the entire kitchen in an orderly, practiced routine. Carson even sweeps and mops the floors.

We retreat to the living room, where I tuck myself into the corner of the worn leather couch. Cole claims the seat next to me, close enough to casually grab my hand, lacing our fingers together with a smile.

"Happy?" I whisper to him.

"Very," he whispers back.

We're all slouching into couches and chairs when Cathy returns with the announcement that no one is in labor, but she needs to put her feet up. She sinks into a recliner next to the dormant wood-burning stove and pops up the footrest.

For a second, the only sound is the faint ticking from the clock over the kitchen doorway, but then the faint crunch of tires on gravel catches the attention of the dogs, who run to the door barking.

"What now?" Cathy says, with a chuckle.

"Okay, okay," says Carson, pulling them back to clear the doorway. "Looks like a delivery." He goes out to talk with the driver while Cathy pulls out a bag of crocheting.

I glance over at Cole and his eyelids are starting to droop, his blinks becoming slower and slower. I run my thumb across the back of his hand, and he smiles reflexively. He's adorable like this, all content and sleepy.

Carson comes back in with a narrow box about four feet high and three feet wide and sets it on end on one of the side tables. He pulls a knife out of his pocket to gently slit the packing tape.

"What you got there, Carse?" Cathy asks, craning to see from her spot on the recliner.

"A surprise for you," he says. Carson opens the flaps of the box, reaches in, and pulls out a black box that looks familiar, but I can't place why.

He sets it on its back on the table and lifts open the cover as Cathy comes to stand next to him. She gasps, and my heart stops, my breath catching in my chest. It feels like time has slipped into slow motion as Carson smiles and Cathy's mouth forms a small "O."

I know where I've seen a box like that—at the gallery.

"Wait," I say, jumping to my feet, suddenly very awake as adrenaline courses through me. "Wait, wait, wait. No, no way."

Carson lifts the box up so we can all see, and safely nestled in place is my painting, the portrait of Cole. I shriek, then suddenly burst into happy tears, pressing one hand over my mouth in disbelief.

"No freakin' way," says Cole, grinning incredulously. "Tia, it's your painting!"

I'm in shock. Is this real life? It's here. Our painting is here. How? How is this happening? My beautiful painting is here.

"No way," I whisper.

"Carson, honey," Cathy says reverently. I watch Cathy, and the emotions crossing her face as she studies Cole's portrait send another round of tears down my cheeks.

"Is she okay?" Cillian asks in a stage whisper.

Cole comes to my side and wraps one arm around my shoulders. He kisses the top of my hair as if to say, See? You did that. I would have expected more words from him. But then I look up and see his eyes are tear-filled, and he can't stop smiling.

"This is insane, I am so shocked," I say, a sob catching in my throat. "Carson, you're the anonymous buyer?"

Carson rubs the back of his reddening neck, shifting uncomfortably at all the emotion swirling around the room. "I wanted you to have it, Mom. I knew it should stay in the family, that it shouldn't sell to just anyone."

"Honey, seeing it in person…this is art with a capital ‘A'," says Cathy. "Oh, I love it so much."

"We would have a fancy painting of you hanging in the living room, you golden boy," Cillian says with a chuckle, ruffling Cole's hair.

This is our painting, mine and Cole's, but now I'm realizing it also belongs to his family, and it belongs here, where his mom and dad shaped his legacy, and raised him to be the exceptional man he is today.

I'm wiping away tears with the backs of my hands like a baby. "I'm so glad you like it. I'm so glad you have it," I say to Cathy, exhaling in emotional, shaky breaths.

"Thank you," says Cathy. "Thank you, Carson, Tia, and Cole. I can't thank you enough." She sniffles and blinks rapidly, then clears her throat. "Cillian, go get a hammer and a tape measure and one of those picture-hanging hooks."

Everyone starts to move around the living room, eyeing the current art on the wall, deciding what should be moved, where to avoid the heat of the wood-burning stove. They're talking as if my painting is the Mona Lisa, and every time they hold it up to test a certain spot, another wave of relief washes over me. It's here, with the people who will appreciate it most. At one point, Cole and Cathy turn to me and ask me a question that I don't hear.

"I'm sorry," I say, laughing through fresh tears. "I'm just so happy."

Cathy leaves soon after to help a mother that's gone into active labor, so Carson and Cillian take over dinner prep. Cole and I head up the hardwood stairs for him to show me where I'm staying—his childhood bedroom. The hardwood gives way to hunter-green carpeting that's probably as old as he is, but clean and perfectly suited to the aesthetic of the Slaeden home.

The door on the left is already open and Cole leans against the door frame with a smile, letting me go in and look around his old room for myself. I grin at the row of sports trophies on a long shelf over the window, the big bookshelf in the corner full of old textbooks, comic books, and a modest collection of science fiction novels. A full bed with a solid oak frame and a blue quilt on top sits to one side of the window with a desk and a closet on the other.

"Is this how you imagined it?" Cole asks.

"No, not really. I think…I don't know, I guess this all feels more rugged and mountain cabin-like. I've only ever known you in San Diego, by the beach, so it seems a little off."

"Yeah," he says with a nod.

I take his hand and pull him further into the room with me to ask the question that's been on my mind since we got here.

"Am I really the first girl you've brought home?"

He holds my gaze, never backing down. "Yes. You're the only one I've brought home."

"Why?"

"I know you're afraid of a future of unknowns, and I thought I would take one thing off the list. And you should meet my family, they're important to me and you're important to me, it made sense."

I smile, squeezing his hand in acknowledgement. "That's not exactly what I asked though."

Cole nods and holds my hand against his chest. "Because unlike many of the girls in my past, I'm proud to know you." He presses my hand flat over his heart. "I will never regret knowing you."

My breath catches as I accept with sudden clarity that I feel the exact same way. I stand on my toes and press a quick kiss to his lips. "Thank you for bringing me to meet your family. I love being here."

"You do? You sure?"

"I really do. It's warm and comforting and I feel at ease here. Feels like you."

"Picture this," Cole says, taking my hands in his and wrapping them behind my back. "You and I are together. At some point, I leave for deployment. You move up here to live in my old room, and you paint a grand masterpiece collection of gorgeous woodland, mountainous landscapes that puts your name on the map in the artist world. When you miss me, you dive into the closet and find all my old high school sweatshirts to wear to bed. When you come downstairs for your morning tea, you see my portrait hanging in the living room. And you miss me, but it's like I'm all around you."

"I don't paint mountain landscapes," I say lamely, tilting my chin up at him as he looms over me. "That's not how this works."

Cole smiles, leans down and kisses my cheek, then whispers in my ear, making the hairs on the back of my neck rise. "You would be loved, utterly and completely loved."

"Didn't see anything," Cillian shouts as he passes the doorway on the way to his room. Cole chuckles and follows him out into the hallway, leaving me stunned and speechless.

The house is asleep. The brothers—well, three grown men—are having a sleepover in Cillian's room while I get Cole's old bedroom all to myself. For a while after Cole and I said a very chaste goodnight in the hallway and parted ways, there was enough manly laughter going on to make me jealous, but now it's snoring echoing in the hallway.

I love this house. It is the opposite of self-important. It's modest and comfortable, and the Slaeden family has filled it with love. The more I see of the boys' relationship, and of Cathy at the helm of the family, the more I appreciate and enjoy them. Carson is a stalwart oldest brother, and Cillian doesn't let anyone take themselves too seriously.

It's comforting to see that Cole is not an anomaly. His character is genuine and who he is with me is who I see here: an honest, caring man who isn't afraid to show his emotions and feelings, he thinks of others first, has a sweet humility, and he loves with his whole heart.

Why am I still fighting against my growing feelings for him? How easy would it be to say yes to him? I said one more guy in my life, the one I would want to marry. How simple and peaceful would it be if that was Cole?