So Much More(90)

When I open the door, Rory hands me a bouquet of flowers, an assortment of different varieties. He’s surrounded by Kai, Kira, and Benito.

“Thank you,” I tell him. And I mean it. It’s the first time I’ve ever received flowers and genuinely thanked the other person for them. That makes me feel a little shitty, because with Seamus I just expected them. The thank you was obligatory, if given at all. It should’ve been heartfelt like the one I just delivered. But, on the other hand, this one was heartfelt. That’s a huge step for me. The past six months since Kai’s accident, I’ve been going through an awakening while he’s healed. The evolution was already in progress before that, but everything changed that day. I’m a different person. Not completely different, I mean, I’m still pushy, and impatient, and driven. But I finally figured out what’s important in life. My kids, my friends, the people I serve at work. People are what make life worth living. Sacrifice. Love. Compassion. It’s pretty goddamn beautiful. Who knew?

“Don’t get mushy on me, Miranda.” My name sounds like Mom, endearing and no longer an insult. He points at Benito. “It was his idea.” The fact that Rory was the one who wanted to hand them to me reinforces the growth I’ve felt in our relationship. We’ve come a long way in a short time. We’re both trying.

The kids walk in, greeting me with hugs, and Benito trails them smirking at Rory dodging responsibility for the kind act. “I suggested flowers. Kai and Kira agreed. Rory insisted they be periwinkle,” he whispers in my ear. My heart squeezes when I look at the bouquet in my hand and notice the hydrangea blossoms.

The kids all disappear to drop their overnight bags in their bedrooms and Benito follows me to the kitchen. He sniffs at the air while I arrange the flowers in a vase.

Before he can say anything, I admit defeat. “The soufflé kicked my ass. I can make toast with a fairly high success rate or we can go out.” I invited him to join the kids and me for brunch today. He picked up them up from Seamus’s apartment on his way over.

He laughs and his easy, laid-back nature shines. “I know a bakery not far from here. I hear the almond croissants are to die for.”

“Oh yeah? To die for? You wouldn’t be biased, would you?”

He shakes his head innocently, but grins through it and winks. “My brother works magic with dough.”

“Mmm, magic sounds f*cking delicious,” I tease. “I want that.”





Magic was f*cking delicious. I’m glad the soufflé massacre took place after all.

The rest of weekend was spent with my kids. We went to the beach and played in the water. We stayed up too late, watched movies, and ate junk food. We talked, some of it was important stuff and most of it wasn’t, but that was the best part. That we could talk about everything and it felt natural. I laughed with my kids. I hugged my kids. I snuggled with my kids.

I felt like a mom, because while it was all happening I was in love with my kids. Real, deep down, love free of plot, or ploy, or misguided intention. It was pure. I didn’t think I was capable of pure, but I am. I really am.

It’s Sunday evening now. Seamus just picked up the kids. Which leaves me here, sitting in my living room, with a glass of wine, thinking about my life. So many regrets. So many lies. So much pain I caused. I feel like I don’t know that person anymore. Thank God. And how lucky I am that despite all that’s happened over the years, I finally have a respectful friendship with my ex-husband—which was a long time coming and hard earned, not that I blame him at all—a loving relationship with my kids, a few good friends, and some newfound self-love and dignity. I’m my own get out of hell free card. It’s of my own volition that good things happen. Effort and intent, that’s what it boils down to. You try or you don’t. It’s good or it’s bad.

I’m trying my ass off.

And I prefer good.

I know that sounds like a sack of self-help, Mary Poppins bullshit, but it’s true.

Do good or die trying.

That’s my new proud-to-be-a-do-gooder rebel motto.





What an unbelievably beautiful circumstance to be in





future





Seamus looks so handsome in black pinstripe pants and a white dress shirt, casually untucked with cuffs rolled up to his elbows. His feet are bare, as are mine. We’re standing on the W…E mat in the sand surrounded by Kai, Rory, Kira, Hope, and a few friends. Benito is standing before us, bible in his hands, proudly doing his ordained—at least for the day—duties.

And when it’s my turn to make my promise, I gaze into Seamus’s dark chocolate eyes that lead straight to his soul, smile through my happy tears and I say, “We. What an unbelievably beautiful circumstance to be in. I do.”

To which he promises, “So much more than I do.”





Epilogue Love explained





Ask one hundred people to explain love.

And you’ll get one hundred different answers.

Because love is like art, it’s subjective.

Fluid.

Ever-changing.

Evolving.





Case in point…





Love is real.

It’s not make believe, like Santa Claus or Vegas. It’s substance and heart, full of wish-granting potential.