Ready for You (Ready #3)(42)

She remembers me?

Before I had much time to contemplate that thought, everyone else in the family greeted us. Everyone, even the children, hugged me. Clare’s daughter, Maddie, took to me immediately, asking who I was.

Most of us found seats while others made coffee or grabbed water.

Maddie sat down next to me and asked, “Did you know my Papa?”

My heart hurt that she’d lost her grandfather at such a young age. Grandparents were one of the best parts of being a kid. They loved unconditionally, spoiled their grandchildren rotten, and would let them eat sweets even if vegetables were skipped over. My grandparents made the early years of my childhood better. I never knew my mother’s parents. They had died before I was born, but my father’s parents were great. I always wondered what happened to my dad, having come from such an amazing set of parents.

“I did know your Papa. He was a wonderful man,” I said.

“He always had M&M’s in his coat pocket. Whenever I’d see him, he’d always share with me. They were always mushy from being in his pocket, but I liked them anyway.”

“Well, now, you always have something special to remind you of your Papa, huh?”

She thought about it for a minute and shook her head. “No, I don’t think I can eat them anymore. They’ll make me too sad.”

“Memories of our loved ones shouldn’t make us sad after they’re gone. Happy memories should make us happy. Why don’t you try to think of all the happy memories you had with your Papa every time you eat an M&M?”

She twirled her strawberry-blonde curls and contemplated my advice. Finally, she gave me a ghost of a smile. “Well, I do love M&M’s,” she said.

“And you love your Papa. It’s perfect.”

She cuddled with me for a few minutes and talked about her brother. He was currently running around the room, chasing Leah’s daughter, Lily. They were both oblivious to what was going on. Their laughter and cries of glee were misplaced but a welcome change to the mournful atmosphere of the room. Sometimes, being so young must be a blissful alternative.

Garrett was in the corner, speaking with Leah, but his eyes were on me, and I wondered how long he’d been watching me.

The door opened, and the annoying woman from earlier entered.

“It’s time, if you’re ready,” she said, giving her best sad, empathetic face.

Laura, Garrett’s mother stood in front, and everyone paired off behind her. Clare went to Logan, Leah found Declan, and Garrett stood next to me. All the kids attached themselves to their parents, and we lined up. The other family members were already seated. Only the immediate family would be ushered in, and the fact that they had always included Leah made me love their family even more. The Finnegan’s always welcomed everyone into their home with open arms, but Leah was special. Leah was family, regardless of blood ties.

Garrett’s hand sought mine, and I turned to find him standing next to me with his eyes closed. He was breathing heavily through his mouth, like he was gearing up for a fight.

Taking a step, I moved in front of him and placed my hand on his erratically beating heart. His eyes opened and locked on mine.

“I’m right here, okay?”

He nodded, and I fell back into line. We took our first steps out of the room toward the sanctuary.

~Garrett~

Every step we took closer to those double doors leading to my father lying lifeless in a casket made me want to turn and run even more.

Ever since Mia had left, I’d been surviving life by avoiding everything. I hadn’t wanted to move on, so I didn’t. I’d immersed myself in college. When that had been over, I’d become a workaholic, all so I could avoid having to deal with the fact that she’d left, and I’d have to find someone else.

I had used avoidance as my crutch for my entire adult life.

As I walked into that sanctuary and found so many eyes on us, I really wanted to turn and run. I could just get in my car and go anywhere just to avoid this new reality that was now my life.

My father was a well-respected man in our community, and seeing so many people attending his funeral should have made me proud, but it didn’t.

It just made it real, and I didn’t want to face it.

Curled up on my bed with a bottle of tequila had made it easy to forget what I’d seen in that hospital room. The alcohol had made everything dull and fuzzy. It had eased the pain and made the hurt go away.

“I don’t know what to do,” I said.

My sister clutched my hand outside my father’s room in the ICU. “Just talk to him, Garrett. That’s what I did.” Her eyes were red and puffy from the tears she’d shed.

We were all saying good-bye. I had held out, hanging back in the hallway, until there was no one left but me. It was now or never.

Clare squeezed my hand one last time, and I took the remaining steps into the darkened room holding my father. The room beeped and echoed as the machines did their work.

Just one look at him brought me to my knees. The tears rolled down my face, and my chest heaved. Oh God, why?

There were tubes and wires everywhere. He looked nothing like the man who I’d seen just days earlier. This made it real. They’d told me he was dying, but seeing him made it a reality.

I was losing my father.

With shaky limbs, I managed to reach his bedside, and I took his lifeless hand. “Hey, Dad, it’s me. Where do I even begin?”