Page 120 of Everything But Mine

When I sit down, Amanda wraps her arms around my middle, her cheek against my shoulder as I hold her tightly to me. Robert’s wife throws her cup of wine at him, then storms off, and Keith goes after her. Cece stays behind. Robert wipes his face, then takes a proud look around him.

Mom stands up, her hand on my shoulder. “Go to them,” she says. “Don’t let anything stop you now.”

As he leaves, Amanda’s hold tightens on me, and I feel no shame, even with all eyes on me. Sandro clears his throat, then reaches over until his hand rests on my forearm.

“Eric,” he says. “I’m sorry we didn’t do more to protect you from feeling unwanted. For what it’s worth, we love you.” He claps against my forearm. “Steady hands, you’ve got.” The lines around his eyes, green like Amanda’s, soften, and the respect in them hushes my father’s voice inside—the one that tells me I’m not worth much.

Still meeting Sandro’s eyes, I say, “The steadiest, Sandro.” And this time, the words feel true.

Matteo lifts his glass to me and takes a sip. “Motherfucker had it coming,” he says.

“Fuck yeah,” Diego adds, tipping his own glass. “When I grow up, man, I want to be like you.”

“Alright, alright,” Val cuts in, bringing a napkin to the corner of her eyes. “Let’s talk about anything else, yeah?”

Everyone’s parents huddle around my mom, while the Bennett twins bring up a different drama-free topic. Amanda slips her hand under my arm, brushing the skin against my shirt.

She’s got the steadiest hands of them all.

She leans closer, whispering. “Do you want to get out of here?”

I rise and fall into step with her, lacing my fingers into hers. We stroll wordlessly toward the waterfall where we both fell at different times, and where, in more ways than one, I first realized what Amanda was to me. The air is cooler here, the cicadas squeak louder. Amanda settles onto the riverbank, her bare feet floating in the water, and I sit beside her, legs crossed.

“I didn’t know it would come out like that.”

“I did,” she says. “You’ve been holding that your whole life.”

I shift closer to her until our legs touch. “You knew, didn’t you? Since you were ten and told me my dad was mean.”

She nods, placing her chin on my shoulder. “Now you’re free.”

I cup her face and study the thin line of perspiration on her temples and neck, shining against the stubborn flickers of daylight. Between us, her belly rises when the kid kicks. I rub my palm against the spot.

“Hey to you too.” I lean down and press a kiss against the widest part. “He’s going to need a name.”

“Yes, he is. River?”

The child stills in her belly.

“I don’t think he likes it.” I chuckle.

“Willow?”

“Willow Donato has a nice ring.”

“Or Donato Strachan?” she counters.

My heart thuds behind my ribs at the sound of our last names combined. The kid doesn’t move. Not even a bit. “I think that’s a no from him.”

I keep rubbing her stomach, my thumb brushing the sliver of exposed skin between her skirt and tank top. The baby moves again when the offensive names stop.

“What about Beckett?” I ask.

He kicks sharply against my hand.

“I think we have a winner.” Amanda wraps her arms around my waist and pulls me into her, our noses touching. “Also, I think there’s a conspiracy for us to share a bedroom.”

“Well.” I shrug like it’s not a big deal, but my heart rate spikes. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”