Page 66 of Husband of the Year
“My mom came up with it. It’s small and cute. Just like him.”
“I love it. Completely adorable.”
“Just like you,” Olan says with a grin, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Okay, my love. Sleep well.”
“You too. And Olan, I’m proud of you. For doing all this for your family. Just more proof of what a good man you are. Good night.”
Olan kisses near his phone’s camera and then ends the call.
I take a deep breath, yearning to experience the warmth of his presence in the same room. Touch his skin. Kiss his lips. Hold him tight. There’s so much more happening than Liam being in rehab, which is big enough on its own. But a baby. Olan’s nephew. Illona’s cousin. The open-ended ticket suddenly appears to be a much wiser choice given the circumstances. Olan is committed to supporting his parents as they adapt to having a new addition to the family. But he can’t stay forever.
I slide under the covers and turn the bedside light off, hoping all this new input doesn’t keep sleep at bay too long. As I place my phone on the nightstand, a text comes through.
Olan: So good to see your face. ILY! Here’s Greggie. Mom took the pic during his bath tonight.
A photo comes through of a baby boy in a blue plastic tub on a table. One of Olan’s hands cradles him while the other holds a washcloth to his chest. Greggie has chubby cheeks and a smile as he peers off camera, presumably at his uncle washing him. His hair resembles Olan’s, but it’s shorter and cropped much closer to his head.
There’s a sudden spark in my core, something I’ve never felt before, and I’m not sure I can name it. But I have an overwhelming desire to make sure this child is cared for. I’m beyond grateful Olan is with him. I may have won Teacher of the Year, but Olan’s the Father of the Year every year, and I have zero doubts he’s also cinching Uncle of the Year with Greggie.
Marvin: He looks so much like Illona.
Olan: His mother was white too.
Marvin: I meant they look like they could be siblings.
Olan: Well, they’re cousins.
Marvin: He’s perfect.
Olan: He is.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Olan: Happy Saturday sunshine! I love and miss you.
Marvin: Sarah and I are headed in to meet Sheldon for some wedding planning. Why are you up so early?
Olan: Greggie was hungry. And needed some snuggles.
Marvin: Tell him his Uncle Marvin feels that.
Olan: Roger. Have fun and be safe.
Sarah joins me on the nine o’clock ferry to meet Sheldon in town. The realization of being alone with my mother all weekend came crashing down on me like a boulder when Isabella picked Illona up after school yesterday. This meeting with Sheldon could’ve been an escape for a few hours. A lifeline. Instead, Sarah sits across from me, wearing a maroon “Mother of the Groom” T-shirt as the wind blows both our curls. Much to her chagrin, I refused to wear the matching “Groom #1” shirt she had made for me. She assured me Olan would wear his “Groom #2” shirt if he were here, and much tomychagrin, she’s probably right.
“This Schmear and Far place—are the owners Jewish?” Mom asks.
“I’m not sure. With that name, I’m guessing so, but I don’t really know,” I say.
“I’ll know. After one bite. I’ll know.”
“Mother, you can’t tell if the owners are Jewish from one bite of their bagels.”
“Can’t I? You’ll see. I’ll ask before we leave.”
“You will not.”
“Won’t I?”
