“Did you ever get over it?” He asked the question carefully like my answer could very well break apart this fragile thing we were building between us.
I rubbed my thumb over my lower lip and contemplated the truth. When someone you loved died, was taken tragically with no room for resolution or good-bye, it wasn’t something you forgot or moved on from. The guilt stayed with you. The remorse covered you. The what-ifs buried you under mountains of possibilities but eventually you learned how to function with all of those anchors holding you down. Was I over Remy’s death? No, and I never would be, but I had come to terms with my role in it and in his life. That had been a battle hard fought and I wouldn’t ever take that progress or self-growth lightly.
“No, I’m not over it, but each day I work closer and closer to being okay with things I know won’t ever change.”
“The new normal?’
I nodded a little. “Yeah.”
He had more questions and now some serious concerns. I could see them swirling and colliding in his eyes. But I didn’t have the right words to soothe them away, so I leaned forward and gave him the same kind of kiss he landed on me this morning.
“I’ll see you at the gym tomorrow. You’re getting really close to your goal. You can probably schedule your physical with both your doctor and your job within the next month.”
He just looked at me without saying anything and when he got out of the car he shut the door with more force than was necessary. He was upset and I didn’t blame him, but I also couldn’t tell him that he was angry about a dead man. That made me feel too exposed, too vulnerable and where he was concerned, I had done a very good job of insulating myself from the start.
I tried to push it all to the back of my mind and focus on the twisty, winding mountain roads that lead out of downtown Denver and into the mountains towards the small, upscale community of Brookside. The Archers made it a point to have a family get-together every Sunday and ever since Shaw brought me into the fold I had a standing invitation to join them. I couldn’t always make it considering work and my own family obligations, but I did try and stop by once a month just like I told Dom.
Rule and Shaw now had a baby boy named Ry and he looked so much like Remy that it took my breath away every time I held him. Remy’s older brother Rome was also on his way to getting married and was expecting his second child with his pixie-sized girlfriend, Cora Lewis. They had a toddler, a tiny spitfire who was a carbon copy of her mother, named Remy … or RJ as the rest of the family called her. Not me. She was named after her uncle, and her happy and mischievous personality would have thrilled him. I called her Remy and gave her hugs from both of us whenever I got to see her.
My boy was alive and well through memory and family. Spending time with the Archer brood always soothed the jagged parts of me that losing one of them had caused. We helped each other remember and heal. Remy would have danced a goddamn jig if he could’ve seen us all together and happy celebrating him the way we tended to do.
It was Rule who opened the door when I knocked and like I always did when I looked at him I had to take a moment to remember he was not Remy. I had to soak in the colorful ink that covered his neck and hands. I had to zero in on the metal bars that dotted his eyebrow and the hoop that lived in the center of his bottom lip. He usually had some crazy-colored hair that was spiked up or shaved off, but ever since his little boy had been born, he was leaving it the natural dark brown all the Archer boys were born with. It was longer than it had ever been and even had a little curl to it. If it wasn’t for the cocksure grin and the sharpness in his blue eyes that were paler than my own, I would call him pretty. Rule had too much edge to be pretty, but he was close.