Page 195 of Not Another Yesterday
“I do.”
“Wait, how long have you guys been together now?”
“Like three and a half years.”
“Uh-huh, and in all that time has sheeveronce made you think she didn’t want to be with you?”
“Not really.”
“Not really?”
“Okay, no, she hasn’t.”
“Perfect. There’s your answer. Grow some balls and ask her,” I say. “You don’t need a special occasion to do it. You just need to do it.”
Shane straightens up, puffing his chest out, taking on a determined expression. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah. You’re right, I just need to do it.”
“There you go,” I say, clapping him on the shoulder.
“You’ll be my best man, right?”
I chuckle. “Sure, but maybe ask her first.”
I adjust my ball cap and make to get to work, only to stop dead in my tracks and turn back to him. “Oh hey, just a heads-up, Cat’s officially moving in with us.”
“I thought she already had?” Shane says, confused.
“What the hell? No, she hadn’t,” I say, shaking my head at Shane’s reaction—so similar to Cat’s earlier.
“She hadn’t?”
“No. Not officially. But now it’s officially official.”
He laughs as I finally head off to start my shift.
Monday, December 25th
Ronan
I wake at the crack of dawn, the sun barely strong enough to suggest morning through the heavy snow clouds pressed low in the sky. I don’t even need to look out the window to know it’s snowing. The world is quieter—cars, footsteps, everything muffled like someone laid a blanket over the city.
I’m not sure what woke me. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. But I’m not ready to move. The bed is warm. Comfortable. Familiar.
Cat is curled beside me, still sound asleep. I smile when I become aware of her body, her perfectly shaped ass pressed against me, one of her legs tucked between mine, the other peeking out from beneath the blanket. She’s wearing her favorite sweater. Technically mine, the dark-green one I wore when we first met. She “borrowed” it two years ago when I lived in Montana and conveniently never gave it back. Aside from that, she’s only in a pair of black lace panties.
She came home late last night from her parents’ place, waking me just long enough to whisper that she was home before climbing into bed and rubbing her cold feet against my calves.
I worked the night shift at Murphy’s. You’d think Christmas Eve would mean the place is dead, that people would want to be at home with their families. But it was busier than expected. Luckily, Shane told me to close early, so I made it home just after ten. The apartment was quiet; Shane and Tori were with his parents and their new partners at the beach house. Honestly, I admire how well his family has come together. Blended but still intact. Good for them making an effort.
Steve’s home for a few days, but I didn’t see him yesterday. I guess he had a low-key day at my dad’s, who was out of the house, havingChristmas Eve dinner at Penny’s parents’ house with Penny and the twins.
The plan for today is to head to my dad’s place, where Cat’s family will meet us. But that’s still hours away, so I decide to stay here, unmoving, just soaking in the peace while I can.
It’s been a hard few weeks. Harder for Cat than for me, though I don’t say that to minimize my own grief. Just to name the truth of what I see in her. Today was supposed to be her due date. I know it’s been on her mind. She hasn’t mentioned it much leading up to today, but I feel it in her body. Hear it in the way she sighs when she thinks I’m not listening. See it in the way her eyes linger on things. There’s a heaviness in her I don’t know how to lift. I try to give her what she needs when she needs it—whether that’s space or closeness, distraction or silence. Her grief moves in waves, crashing and receding without warning. Sometimes she’s filled with gratitude for what we have. Sometimes she’s gutted. Devastated. Sometimes both at once.
