We all groaned.
"Okay, that's it. I'm not playing with him anymore. Remind me not to play against a Harvard-educated doctor anymore. It's just not fair," Garrett lamented, who'd arrived shortly after us.
"Ah, come on, I didn't win every game, did I?" Logan asked.
We all nodded at him.
"Sore losers," he grumbled.
We all laughed. I relaxed into my seat on the sofa and sipped on my hot apple cider. Clare was snuggled up next to me, sharing a blanket. Both of us had wisely opted out of the card games, having played with Logan before.
"Logan seems very comfortable with your parents now," I commented.
"Well, he did put a ring on it," she joked, holding up her beautiful antique wedding set.
"Hand job?" I asked quietly.
"What?" she feigned innocence. "No! I can't believe you...okay, fine, you got me."
"Nice. Nothing relaxes a man like a little hand action before meeting the parents." I laughed.
"And Declan?"
"Blow job."
"Right on."
We high-fived each other before giggling into our cider, which eventually turned into roaring laughter. The men finished cleaning up their cards and looked to us for entertainment.
"Okay, so what do we do next?" Garrett asked.
There was a strict no-TV rule on Christmas.
"Oh, I know! Let's look at photo albums!" Clare exclaimed.
Both Garrett and I moaned.
"I think that sounds like an excellent idea," Logan said, looking over at my soon-to-be-dead boyfriend.
Declan was laughing and nodding his head.
Traitor.
Almost immediately after saying it, Clare returned to the family room with a ton of photo albums, nearly skipping in her purple sweater dress and heels.
"Come on, everyone gather together! Let's see how cute I was!" she beamed.
Logan joined her on the floor in the middle of the living room. He pulled her onto his lap, and she began to sort through the albums. I rose from my seat on the sofa and begrudgingly planted my ass next to them on the floor, next to my traitorous boyfriend who was still on the floor from getting his ass kicked in Uno. He was currently leaning over to sneak a peek at whatever Clare was looking at.
Garrett, seeing he had no choice in the matter, also made his way down to the floor, lying down next to his sister, as she started on the first album. Clare's father sat behind us in his ancient recliner, chuckling as Clare flipped through the pages. I could hear her mother humming away in the kitchen as she prepared dinner. As much as I'd groaned, it was nice to sit here, flipping through happy young memories. All of the good parts of my childhood were in these pages, under this roof, and with this family.
"Here's one of Leah from...oh, junior prom!"
Before I had time to grab it, Declan snatched it up in his hands.
"You were just as hot back then," he said with a smirk before frowning. "Who's the dude?"
"Oh, uh...Scott Evans. We dated for a few months that year. He was the quarterback, and I was a cheerleader. Looked good on paper, but it was a disaster in real life."
"Looks like a moron," Declan said.
"Are you jealous of a boy I dated over ten years ago?" I was seriously amused.
"No," he grunted. "Yes."
I laughed and squeezed his arm. "If it makes you feel better, he flunked out of college and works part-time at a shoe store in the mall. Oh, and he still lives with his mom."
"Marginally better, thanks." He grinned.
We looked through more high school pictures and then got to college. Clare's hand stopped when she found a picture of her and Ethan from their first Thanksgiving. Their beaming young faces were mushed together in an exuberant hug. He looked happy, healthy, and full of life —exactly like I always wanted to remember him. Ethan, like me, hadn't had a place to call home, and he'd spent all his holidays with us after he started dating Clare. The Finnegans had opened their home to many people over the years —taking me, Ethan, Logan, and now Declan, it appeared, into their family. They were the very best kind of people.
Logan's fingers wrapped around his wife's, and he held her, knowing that even though she was happy in his arms, the man she'd lost would always be close to her heart.
"You okay?" he asked.
We all watched on, ready to help her through the grief if needed. She nodded as a single tear ran down her cheek. Then, she placed the album down and moved on to another one.
"I'm fine, really." She smiled softly. "Thank you," she said quietly to Logan.
He nodded and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek.
"Let's find some pictures of Garrett, why don't we?" Clare said.
We all agreed and began looking through the piles of albums. I hit pay dirt first when I cracked open an album to be greeted by the familiar face of a younger, more innocent-looking Garrett.
"Hey, there's the Goober I remember!" I looked up to the present-day Garrett and then back down to the high school version preserved on the pages of the album.
We all gathered around as I flipped through photos of Garrett in high school. It was then that I realized how much he really had changed. He'd had a light in his eyes then that didn't reach his eyes now.
"Okay, dinner's almost ready!" Laura called from the kitchen.
I skipped a few pages and made my way to the end of the album. I was eager to see if that genuine Garrett smile was still there. I was trying to pinpoint when it had disappeared. Then, I landed on graduation pictures. There was eighteen-year-old Garrett, posing with his high school girlfriend, their eyes brimming with excitement and youth.
Garrett visibly stiffened next to Clare as his emerald eyes locked on the picture.
"Hey, I remember her," Clare said, "Mia, wasn't it?"
Garrett just nodded. Clare was sitting next to him rather than across from him, so she didn't have the view I did. She couldn't see the look of absolute devastation on his face.
"What happened to her?" Clare asked.
"She left me," was all he said before getting up and exiting the room.
Based on the look on his face just now, I'd bet that shadow of a smile he carried showed up the day she walked out of his life.
Chapter Fourteen
~Declan~
"So, this is your idea of fun?" I asked as we walked hand in hand into the retirement home.
Leah gave me a shy smile before greeting the lady sitting at the front desk. "Hey, Alice. How's it going?" she said.
"Well, good morning, sugar. Is it Wednesday already?"
Looking down at the calendar with many papers and schedules scattered on her desk, the older woman, who reminded me a little of Betty White, nodded.