Ready for You (Ready #3)(80)

“I’ll take care of the rest of this,” I said encouragingly. “Just go upstairs and relax for a while. Why don’t you put on that pretty purple dress you bought the other day?”

Her eyes perked up, and she grinned. She’d been waiting for an excuse to wear that dress ever since she brought it home. She had even contemplated returning it. As soon as I had seen it, I knew it was perfect for tonight.

She raced upstairs, and seconds later, I heard the familiar sound of singing as she moved around upstairs. I loved the sound of her singing. She sang all the time now. I hadn’t really noticed it, but when she had first come back into town, I’d never heard her hum or sing at all. It was something she used to do as if it were second nature. I thought, along with so many other things, it had been swallowed up in her grief and misery.

She’d told me late one night, about a month after I’d moved in, that singing in that club had been the first time she’d heard her own voice in years. I wished I could say that our grief and pain were gone and sealed up in that grave marker my mother had installed for Hope, but wounds couldn’t heal that easily, and it’d taken months of counseling and time together to get to this point.

Deep scars couldn’t be healed instantaneously. They took time to heal properly, and this time around, we knew we couldn’t risk doing anything half-assed. Mia had eight years of posttraumatic stress and depression to sort through, and even though I’d forgiven her for everything, I still had years of emptiness to work through.

People say counseling is for the weak.

It’s not.

Liv had found an amazing therapist who had experience working with couples who had suffered the loss of a child. Mia actually began seeing her before she showed up at my doorstep that fateful autumn day and we thought it would be good to continue the process with both of us. Counseling had taken courage. Walking into an office and baring our hearts and souls to a complete stranger with the expectation that somehow the doctor had the means to help guide us through the pain and suffering we couldn’t do on our own had taken immense courage. She’d helped us in ways no one else could have.

Three months later, we were stronger than ever.

Just as I was putting the finishing touches on the chicken salad, the doorbell rang, signaling our first guest.

Not wanting to appear as a rude host, Mia came flying down the stairs, pinning her hair up as she came. Her makeup had been redone, but it was understated as usual. The amethyst dress had replaced the jeans. She looked breathtaking. The plunging neckline made my brain go haywire, and her high-heeled boots gave me second thoughts about our houseguests.

Too late now.

My sister’s voice was the first I heard as her and Logan entered, followed by Maddie and little Ollie. They immediately took off for Sam. Being the gentle dog he was, Sam just rolled over and took the brunt of the children’s affection with grace, allowing them to climb all over him as he waited patiently.

“The place looks fantastic, guys!” Clare exclaimed. “But, um…not that different from the last time we were here. You didn’t have to host anything fancy to have us over!”

Mia threw me an evil look and mouthed the words, I told you so.

No one else knew my ulterior motives but me. So, now, as my family was starting to arrive, I could agree that using the excuse of a housewarming party to get them all over here months after I’d moved in was pretty lame.

It would have made more sense to wait until Super Bowl Sunday or just told them I wanted to have a cookout…in the middle of January. Yeah, that didn’t make sense either.

Stealth was not my thing. I would make a terrible spy.

“Oh, you know…any excuse to have you guys over,” I threw out awkwardly.

This routine continued as the rest of my family arrived.

As Declan took his wife’s coat, he joked, “You know, Garrett, if you wanted to see me so badly, you didn’t have to throw a party!”

I was going to kill them all.

In addition to my family, we’d also invited Logan’s best friend, Colin, and his family, who my mother had basically adopted as another extension of the Finnegan family. Liv was also joining us. Everyone who was important to the two of us was here.

It was just like I’d planned. Everything was perfect.

After everyone arrived and we all had been properly greeted and hugged, we headed into the kitchen where I’d set up everything for dinner. Since it really wasn’t a housewarming party, I’d gone light and casual on everything. Chicken salad, fresh rolls, seasonal fruit, and several other sides that had been brought by my family. Clare had gone all out and brought a huge platter of baked goods that would no doubt feed the entire block. Leah, being the minimalist, had picked up a casserole at her favorite cafe down the street.

Every time we gathered, we would still feel the stinging absence of my father. I thought we’d all come to the conclusion we’d never fully get used to the idea of life without him, but we were adjusting. We were a family with or without him, and he would hate the idea of us crumbling because he wasn’t here to hold us together. So, we’d continued on as best as we could. Life moved on, and so had we. The holidays had been the hardest, but we’d found new ways to adapt, and having the young ones around always brought meaning and purpose to the season, even for those who were grieving.

We all made plates of food and scattered throughout the house. We kept the kids at the kitchen table to avoid a food catastrophe, but the adults fanned out into the living room, sitting on the couch and floor, as we enjoyed talking about work and family life.