The Buy-In (Graham Brothers #1)(83)

“Nice but weird.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” he asks, an edge of frustration creeping into his voice.

“It’s weird because it’s so normal. Think about it. You and I had a whirlwind romance in college, a rough goodbye where we both hurt each other, then, like a week after seeing each other for the first time in over five years, we’re married and sharing a house. We’re doing dishes together. You’re cooking for us and tucking in Jo. Now we’re swinging on a porch swing with our names on it.”

I can’t explain why the tears come. But they do. So hard and fast I can’t keep them in. Thankfully, because my head is resting on Pat’s shoulder, he can’t see them. And I just keep going, like something inside me has been uncorked.

“You’re paying for plumbers and installing a new driveway and fixing the broken porch step and replacing the screen door and rehanging the crooked shutters.”

“You noticed all that?”

“It’s hard not to. You’ve probably finished half the list by now.”

“More like a third. It’s a long list.”

I groan. “Not to mention looking up hairstyles for Jo. I’m sorry I haven’t said thank you. It’s hard to know how when it’s so … much.” The emotion becomes too thick in my throat then, and I close my mouth, swallowing down a sob.

Pat leans in, pressing a kiss to my hair. His lips move, and I feel his breath on my cheek. “I don’t expect that. I don’t even want a thank you note.”

“What do you want?” The words burst out of me, sounding like an angry accusation rather than a question.

The swing’s gentle motion is soothing, even as I wait impatiently for Pat’s answer. “I want you, Lindybird. Only ever you.” He must feel me starting to protest because he gives my shoulder a firm squeeze. “Hold on, now. I want you, but I also want things for you. I want to see you get your shine back. You’ve shouldered a lot of burdens for a long time. You gave up your dreams and aren’t even bitter about it. But I think in the process, you’ve lost the will to hope. The ability to let yourself dream. I want to help you get that back.”

There’s that h-word again. Only this time, help doesn’t sound so bad. I can’t argue with anything Pat said in his assessment of me. I haven’t had room to hope or to dream. Having Pat around, having a partner, someone to shoulder the responsibilities with me has been life-changing. We feel like a team.

We feel like family.

As much as I want to fully embrace this, to stop fighting Pat and go full feral cat on him, I’m still so scared of what I might lose. Especially with the court case hanging over my head. Less than a week to go, and everything could change.

Pat seems so steady now beside me, but I’ve watched his pattern over the years, the jumping from thing to thing and person to person. He’s told me himself how, after his injury, he hasn’t found a job he liked or an apartment he kept for more than a year. How can I be sure he’ll stay after the hearing? If Rachel wins custody of Jo, Pat doesn’t have to stay. If I win custody of Jo, Pat doesn’t need to stay. Any outcome, there’s still a chance he could go.

But he’s giving me every indication he will stay. He’s steadier than he used to be, more settled. I can’t believe I’m still harboring doubts when he is constantly bending over backward for me. I’m more than a little ashamed of doubting him. But that doesn’t make the doubts disappear.

“You’re doing so much, and I’m doing so little,” I say. “It feels unfair.”

“In a relationship, sometimes one person needs more help and support than the other. At another time, it may flip. And still other times, it might be totally equal give-and-take. For now, you need support and I’m freely giving it.”

Relationship. He said relationship! I can totally hear Winnie scoffing in my head, because of COURSE he said relationship. We are married—that’s, like the ultimate definition of a relationship. Still, hearing Pat describe us that way gives me a thrill. A thrill somewhere between terror and excitement, just like always when it comes to him.

I grip Pat’s shirt with all the strength I can muster. Despite feeling weak and worn, I’d like to see someone try to pry me off him.

He speaks, his lips almost brushing the shell of my ear. “I cannot imagine anyone caring for and raising Jo better than you, Lindybird. You’ve also been caring for your mama. I’m sure that has been heart-breaking.”

It really has. Anyone who has been through the deterioration of a parent’s memory and brain function knows exactly how much.

“And while you’ve got a great support system here, you’ve done so much on your own. Through force of will and force of caring. You have the biggest heart.”

I sniff, realizing the tears have regrouped and made an appearance again. They’re a little more like happy tears now.

“I don’t have a big heart. It’s all wrinkled and shriveled up. Like a raisin. It’s a raisin heart.”

“Oh, I think it’s bigger than a raisin, darlin’.”

“A prune, then.”

He snorts. “It’s the most beautiful prune heart in the world.”

I try not to let his compliments take root too deeply inside me. I’m not sure whether or not I’m successful. Pat’s arms tighten around my waist and he rests his chin on the top of my head. A little breeze picks up, but it doesn’t chill me. I’ve got my own Pat-heater right here.