they say goodbye to Alyssa and Charlotte. Then I scoop my two girls under either arm and carry them back into the kitchen. “Okay. Say goodnight to Auntie Brook, Aunt Gigi, and Uncle Leo.”
“Goodnight,” they sing in unison. Everyone comes up to give them both a hug and kiss, then I carry them up the stairs, depositing them in Charlotte’s bedroom.
I go through the normal routine of getting them ready for bed and reading a few books. After tucking Charlotte in, I leave her with a kiss on her forehead, then bring Alyssa into her own room.
“Are you sad Auntie Brook’s marrying someone else?” she asks as she settles into her bed.
I inhale a sharp breath, caught off guard by her question. “What makes you think that?”
“I just do. I’m sad she’s marrying Wes.”
“Don’t you like him?”
“He’s okay. But I wish she was marrying you.”
I lean down and kiss her forehead. “Go to sleep, Lyss.” I stand and turn off the lamp on the bedside table.
“Do you love her?”
“Very much.” I don’t know why I answer so honestly.
“Then why don’t you marry her?”
“It doesn’t work that way, sweetheart.” I kiss her forehead one more time, inhaling. She still has that baby smell to her, even all these years later. “Now, go to sleep.”
“Okay.” She snuggles beneath the covers. “Love you, Dad.”
“Love you, Lyss.” I head toward the doorway, pausing for a moment as I admire my daughter’s face. There’s nothing more satisfying than watching your child sleep peacefully, not a care in the world. It doesn’t matter how stressful the day was, the arguments you got into. At the end of the day, it’s not important.
With a sigh, I close the door and head back down the stairs. The kitchen that was a disaster, covered with pasta, sauce, and breadcrumbs, now sparkles and gleams.
“You didn’t have to clean up,” I say to Uncle Leo as he places the last plate in the dishwasher and starts it.
He turns around and passes me a knowing look. “You understand how your aunt can be. Do you think it’s wise to tell her no?”
I shake my head, feigning fear. “Absolutely not.”
“Then you know why I had to clean.”
“Ah, there you are,” Gigi calls out, turning the corner from the living room. I look over the area, all the toys normally scattered throughout neatly placed in the kids’ chests.
“Are you ready to go?” Leo asks.
“Yes. Go start the car. I’ll be right out.” She narrows her gaze at me. “I need a word with my nephew.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He kisses my cheek, as he always does, then continues out of the kitchen.
“Did Brook take off, too?” I shift my eyes around the space.
She shakes her head, gesturing toward the French doors. I follow her line of sight, seeing Brooklyn sitting in front of the fire pit in my back yard, a glow coming from it.
“My darling Andrew,” Gigi begins. I turn back to her. “You remind me so much of your father.” She cups my cheeks in her hands, forcing me to bend over to meet her short height. “Every day, I see more of him in you.” She stares at me, penetrating, before releasing her hold. “Before Alzheimer’s took his memories, he often spoke of his biggest regret.”
“What was that?” I press, knowing too well where this conversation is going.
“That he never put himself out there.”
“He dated.” I cross my arms in front of my chest.
“But he was never all in. He kept his heart guarded because of how much your mother hurt him.” She gestures outside once more.
“Are you telling me to pursue a woman who’s engaged?” I ask in disbelief. It’s shocking my aunt, the devout Catholic she is, would advocate this course of action.
“All I’m telling you is that regret is a bitch.”
My eyes widen. My aunt never swears. To hear her use a word she normally won’t makes me realize how serious she is. This isn’t another ploy to play matchmaker as she’s been prone to do.
“Don’t regret this. You have the power to stop it.”
“But at a huge cost to her.” I shake my head. “I can’t hurt her more than I already have.”
“Always so noble, my dear Andrew.” She stands on her toes and places one last kiss on my cheek. “I love you.” She turns around. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Dazed, I watch her leave, pondering her words for a moment. I fear this is a battle that will never be won, that it’s not a battle I want