Page 62 of The Focal Point

“Yeah, I did.”

He stopped at my side, and we both watched Bailey and our family interact for a moment. They were laughing about something again, and I couldn’t help but smile. She fit in so perfectly, it was almost as if she had been a part of it forever, just like in my life.

It still seemed like a small miracle Bailey had forgiven me, but she had. Those three weeks had been some of the toughest of my life, and I hadn’t wanted to leave her side once we had made up. Since that spring day, the feeling had yet to dissipate.

I was sure it wouldn’t, and I didn’t mind a bit.

Our relationship had only grown deeper over that time as we worked on this house together, moving through many unexpected pitfalls and problems I hadn’t known existed when I bought the house.

Bailey had handled the entire process with grace, strength, and an astounding amount of calm. Not that she hadn’t had moments of upset, and we had even had our first disagreement—I couldn’t even call it an argument—but she had seen the project finished with far more self-possession than I had.

Working through a difficult project with Bailey, one that had the potential to split couples up, had only cemented in me the knowledge that she was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I delighted in her laugh and her spirit, in her presence, and the way she felt in my arms. Going to sleep beside her and waking up next to her was the only thing I wanted for the rest of my life.

“Do you get butterflies?”

I looked over at my dad, wondering what he was thinking and if he was remembering my mom. “I do.”

“Well, then, there you have it.”

He held out his bottle to me, I clinked mine against it, and we took our drinks.

“Your mom would have loved this. She would have loved Bailey, too.”

That answered my question.

“I know,” I said, giving him a supportive squeeze on the shoulder.

“Liam?” The hospital director was hurrying toward us, and he indicated the back patio around which the guests were congregating. “We’re ready for you.”

“Hey,” Bailey greeted me as I stepped onto the decking.

“Hey yourself,” I replied quietly. “Having fun?”

Her grin was answer enough, and I returned the expression before turning to the guests, who were quiet and waiting for me to speak.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming here today. I cannot tell you how wonderful it is to have you with us today to celebrate the opening of the first project of Hope’s House, our new non-profit dedicated to providing a safe, comfortable, and local place to stay for the families of patients undergoing cancer treatments.”

I had to pause for applause and loud whistles from two of my brothers. Even the kids cheered, though I was pretty sure the smallest ones were just caught up in the excitement.

“This house is only the first of many we hope to establish around the city for each hospital. But this entire project, and the organization, wouldn’t be possible without so many people. The staff and director over at the hospital—”

I indicated the group of hospital staff standing to my right who had helped us navigate the pitfalls and red tape of setting up a non-profit.

“—Our contractor and his crew who helped us make this house livable and donated part of their time—”

The man held up his hand at the laughter and applause, accepting the praise with a large grin.

“—Bailey’s wonderful design staff, Kristen, Hank, and the others, and my staff, especially Jordan Mitchell, our CFO, Thomas Kinnear, our CTO, and my incredible assistant without whom I would trip over my own two feet, Gloria.”

The older woman shook her head but still laughed along with everyone else.

“My own family, of course, for their support of the idea. And my biggest thanks is to Bailey Page, without whom this would never have happened. And also, this house wouldn’t look nearly as beautiful as it does because my design choices are still reminiscent of a college kid—stick a poster on the wall, a TV in the corner on a stand you found on the curb, and call it good.”

That one got me another laugh from the guests, but I had made the joke entirely to hear Bailey’s giggle, and I reached out my hand, drawing her into my side with an arm across her shoulders when she took it.

“But really, this wouldn’t be possible without Bailey. Not only is she a design superstar, but she is my rock, my joy, and the best partner in this adventure, or maybe misadventure, I could ask for. Some of you may not know, but Hope’s House is named for my mom, who died of cancer when I was a teenager. And I’m pretty sure Bailey is her way of making sure someone is making sure I tie my shoes and eat something when my brain is too full of a new gadget to pay attention.”

I raised my eyes to the sky.