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A moment later, Devlyn reenters the kitchen with his father in tow. A loud beep fills the room as the timer on the range goes off. I turn it off, along with the burner for the couscous, top the pot with a lid and remove it from the heat.
Jitters flow through my limbs as I spin around to face Devlyn and James. Two breaths pass and my nerves settle a little as I stare at the two of them. Looking at James is like looking into the future. Devlyn is definitely his father’s son. If James’s appearance is any indication, Devlyn will age well.
The room is filled with awkward tension as the three of us stand there, unspeaking. After a beat, James breaks the silence. “Nice to see you again, Shelly.” James offers his hand.
Devlyn’s father is not his mother.
I take his hand and note how similar yet different his grip is from Devlyn’s. Devlyn has soft hands with the occasional callous. His fingers are thin and long. His touch gentle yet strong. James harbors a different type of strength. One built from years of labor and life. The skin where his fingers meet his hand is rougher. Yet I still feel a gentleness in his touch.
“Nice to meet you officially,” I say.
Our hands break apart and Devlyn offers his father a drink. The two men open a beer while I fill a glass with sparkling cider. While I fetch plates, Devlyn takes the chicken from the oven. We dish the meal onto plates and make our way into the dining room.
James’s gaze drifts around the room as if seeing it with new eyes.How long has it been since he has set foot in this house?Until meeting James in Petal and Vine last month, I’d never seen him. It was always Devlyn’s mother that made an appearance. And until last month, Devlyn hadn’t spoken to James since late November.
I watch as his eyes take in all the new additions to the house. A short vase of flowers at the heart of the table. Art on two of the three dining room walls—Devlyn’s art, of course. Large candles on either side of the vase that Devlyn lit when I wasn’t looking. A soft rug beneath the table and chairs. And that is just this room.
Devlyn lived a monochromatic life filled with occasional color before we met. My life had been the opposite. Now we balance each other. Spark new life where things once faded away.
“I love the changes you’ve made,” James says, eyes darting from me to Devlyn. “Feels more like a home.”
“I’ll give you an updated tour after dinner,” Devlyn suggests.
Wrinkles form at the corners of James’s mouth and eyes as an all too familiar smile dons his face. “I’d love that very much.”
Thank goodness his genetics overpowered hers.
Dinner carries on with timid conversation. James asks Devlyn about his recent artwork and me about the flower shop. Neither of us dives in deep at first, but the more we chat, the more comfortable we all become. We have yet to discuss anything about the baby, but hiding my growing belly becomes harder with each passing day.
When our plates clear, I offer to do dishes so Devlyn can show his father around the house.
Not much of the house has changed from my moving in. Not needing the furniture, I sold all but a few smaller items. The small space between the kitchen and doors to the patio had been empty prior to me moving in. Now, my small sofa, end and coffee table, and bookshelf fill the space and look out the sliding glass doors to the backyard. The small change doesn’t overwhelm the nook, but makes it a cozy place to read a book or have additional seating if and when we have guests over.
As I load the last of the dishes into the washer, Devlyn and James enter the kitchen. Both wear matching smiles and carry a new sense of ease.
Devlyn needed this. They both did. The last several months have been a challenge for us both, but more for Devlyn. So much of his life has changed. He saw a new side to his mother, one he’d been willfully blind to for years, and disconnected her from his life. In doing so, pieces of his past flooded in and knocked the air from his lungs. Everything he thought he knew as a child and young man had been blanketed with falsehoods and manipulation. Although his parents, more so his mother, had twisted his mind, he has slowly found a way to unravel all the hurt and heartache and influence.
Now he has the chance at a new life with his father. One filled with love and compassion and trust—over time. And this small token warms my heart. That he gets to keep one parent. That he doesn’t feel completely abandoned.
“So,” James speaks up as we walk to the sitting room. “I don’t know how to broach the subject…” Devlyn and I sit on the love seat as James sits in one of the chairs across from us. “Or if I should.” He picks at the knee of his slacks.
“We won’t know unless you do,” Devlyn states with a chuckle.
I love how light and carefree he is at my side. How warm and comfortable he is as the evening progresses. Not that Devlyn has never displayed such qualities. Just wasn’t sure what his reaction would be having his father nearby after a long absence.
A soft smile pushes up the corners of James’s lips. “I’d like to talk about…” He pauses, his jaw working left and right, his lips clamped between his teeth. “About the baby,” he says after a moment.
It wasn’t a question ofifthe subject would come up before James left, it was a question ofwhen. Honestly, it surprises me it didn’t come up sooner.
Devlyn wraps an arm around my shoulders, tucks me into his side, and lays his free hand on my lap. If that doesn’t scream his need to protect me and the baby, not much else would in this moment.
“Okay,” Devlyn says, but doesn’t expand further.
Tonight is more about Devlyn reconnecting with his dad than about me getting to know James. Devlyn needs this—they both do—but his instinct to shield me from the toxicity of his past far outweighs his need to connect.
Every word and action from James this evening has been nothing short of kind and caring. Not once has he been cruel. Nor has he belittled Devlyn. The entire evening feltnormal. And we can use all the normal we can get.
That said, this man also spent more than two decades of his life with Karen Templar—a woman I will never trust.
