Page 195 of Wait for Him

"Are you mad at me?" I ask. "For never saying anything?"

"No. God, no." He reaches across the table and covers my hand with his. "Rose, I could never. You gave up everything to raise me. You gave him up so he could have everything you couldn't give. There's not a version of this where I get to be mad at you."

His eyes shine, and he blinks hard before continuing.

"I'm just glad I don't have to pretend I don't love the kid anymore. Do you know how exhausting it's been acting casual about his robotics projects? I've been dying to brag about my genius nephew and how he got his smarts from Uncle Benny."

"I am not calling you Uncle Benny," James says flatly, both hands up.

"Uncle Mikey?"

"Not gonna happen."

"What are my choices here?"

"Uncle Michael or Uncle Bennet."

"I disagree."

"What?" James throws his hands up. "You can't disagree with choices!"

"I can and I did. Counterargument: Unc, or BenBen."

James turns to me with an expression I recognize from my own mirror, the face of a reasonable person encountering Michael at full strength for the first time as family instead of company.

"Is he always like this?"

"YES!" comes from everyone at once, me, Blaire, Jackson, Joe, the entire couch gallery in perfect unison.

Michael sits back, deeply satisfied, a man who has never once been embarrassed in his life.

"BenBen it is."

"Nobody agreed to BenBen!"

***

"How's he doing over there?" Samson asks.

I was mid-story about Michael falling through the attic at ten, the couch audience howling, when my phone lit up with Samson's name. I stepped into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind me before the second ring.

"He's everything, Sam. He's so outspoken and free. He's a sponge, wants to know everything about everyone. We're at Michael's place right now." I pause, because one question has been nagging at me since last night. "Did you know Michael knew?"

"I assumed. He never said it outright, but that boy's been orbiting our restaurant for years, and he doesn't do anything by accident." A low chuckle comes through the phone. "Runs in the family."

I stay quiet, and he hears everything in it because Samson has always had the deeply irritating ability to know when I'm building a case against myself.

"Don't overthink it, sweetheart. We're okay over here. Nobody in this house is sad or angry. Our hearts are full knowing he's there with you, getting to know his family."

"You're his family, Sam." My throat tightens. "I'm not trying to take him from you. I need you to know that."

"Sweetheart." His voice goes soft and sure. "He was always on loan. And we will always be family. I mean all of us. Nothing's changed except the good parts. We love him as a son, and we love you and your brother no different. We are yours, and you are ours. Am I clear, Rosie?"

That does it. I wipe the stream of tears off my face with the back of my hand and try to answer without sounding like I've swallowed a frog. "Thank you, Sam."

"James and Amelia would be so damn proud of you both." He lets that sit for a moment before clearing his throat and turning brisk again. "Now get back inside. And don't tell him I called. I just wanted to make sure it was going well. Boy can talk a mile a minute; I figured you'd earned a check-in."

I hang up and press my back against the wall. I've been holding myself together since we left the restaurant last night, and I'm not ready to go back inside yet. I can't remember the last time I cried happy tears, so I let them fall.