by K. Ryan
"I get kitty soon?"
A hard laugh escaped my throat and I shook my head. Persistent little shit.
"You know what Mommy said and she said we have to wait until after your sister gets here. Just a couple more months, buddy. You remember what I told you?"
He grumbled a little under his breath and shifted on the seat a little as he shot me his patent stink eye. I crouched down to get a better look at him.
"We always do what Mommy says because Mommy's always right."
Isabelle also had a theory that once the baby was here in a few months, Connor would completely forget about wanting a cat. She was probably right about that, too.
Connor's head tilted to the side and he giggled, shooting me that toothy, adorably dimpled grin that made me melt into a puddle at his feet.
"And hey, you know what?" I went on, pushing off the door and crouching down to his level. "Guess who you're gonna see tomorrow?"
Connor hesitated for a second, contemplating what was happening tomorrow that he needed to remember and then his blue eyes flashed with excitement. "Grandma!"
"That's right," I laughed and helped him pull his pants back up. "Grandma's gonna come over and play with you while Mommy gets some work done."
At first, my mom was too swallowed in grief to do much besides cry and drink herself into a coma, but the second we found out Isabelle was pregnant, she changed her tune pretty quickly. Just a few weeks later, I was helping her move into an apartment a few miles away from our brownstone.
Since then, my mom and Isabelle had found an easy rhythm, falling back into the routine they'd had years ago when they worked together, and shared a schedule that worked for everyone: Isabelle stayed home with Connor every other day of the week and my mom babysat on the odd days Isabelle went to her studio a few blocks away to work.
I wasn't completely sold on this happy-family act my mom played at every time she was here, but if she wanted to have a relationship with my son, I wasn't going to be the one to stop her.
"Still want kitty, Daddy."
Nothing if not stubborn and persistent—the best and worst of both his parents, I supposed. With a sigh, I lifted him up to the sink so he could wash his hands and I wondered how many times I'd have to have this conversation. Not necessarily this conversation, but given that he was only two, I had a feeling the advice I was about to give him was the same advice I'd be handing out for years to come.
I sat him down on the sink to face me so I knew I had his attention.
"I'm gonna tell you something really important, okay, Con?"
He nodded seriously, his eyes wider than the rest of his head, and I had to bite back a smile.
"Everything worth having in life comes with patience. You have to work for it and you have to wait until the time's right."
Connor studied me carefully, like he was actually processing what I'd told him, but I knew most of it flew right over his head.
"You wanna go help Mommy make pizza now?"
He nodded furiously, reaching up to me so I could lift him off the sink. He took off, skidding right for the stairs and I thought my heart just about leapt out of my throat.
"Slow down, buddy!" I called after him.
Connor glanced over his shoulder, shooting me a look I was all too familiar with, and slowed down just enough to keep from tumbling down the stairs and hitting every step on the way down. My eyes closed and I scrubbed both hands over my face before I followed in his wake.
I rounded the corner to the kitchen, stopping short and leaning against the threshold to give myself a moment to take it all in. My wife lifted our son up onto a stool so he could hover over the counter. She kissed the top of his head and he patted her pregnant stomach with a wide grin. Then they got to work, pushing the pizza dough around the pan with their palms, their heads leaning in with twin expressions of determination.
Sooner or later, I'd have to get over this lingering feeling that my past would blow up in my face again and something would happen to them because of it.
The past would always stay right where it was—in the past.
Everything I'd ever wanted was here in this kitchen. I had the love of my life, a beautiful, healthy son, and a daughter on the way. What more could a man like me possibly hope for?
Nothing, I thought as I pushed off the wall to join my family. Absolutely nothing.
About the Author
K. Ryan is a former English teacher, who graduated from the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point in 2009. When not writing, she's either binge-watching something on Netflix, running, reading, or cheering on the Packers. She lives in the Green Bay area with her crazy-supportive boyfriend and the best decision of her adult life, a not-so-stray cat named Oliver.
Follow her on Twitter and Instagram (@authorkryan) and Facebook or visit her website for updates and news. Click here to subscribe to her newsletter.
Check out the bonus materials section on her website for two short prequels about Caleb and Isabelle in high school.
Also by K. Ryan
Finding Emma
The Carry Your Heart Duo
Carry Your Heart
Carry You Home
Acknowledgements
First of all, I think a book is really only as good as its cover, so I owe a huge thank you to Christa at Paper and Sage. Not only did you create something that was vibrant, full of life, and beautifully eye-catching, but you also managed to improve on the original. Thank you so much for your patience and your diligence.
I know I mentioned my first readers in my dedication, but I'm going to do it again here. Without your constant support through these last few years, Caleb and Isabelle really wouldn't be here. I don't really want to think about where I'd be either.
To all the bloggers who read and reviewed Carry Your Heart—thank you so much for taking a chance on a rookie author and helping my book find its audience.
To Missy—thank you so much for your patience. I went back recently and re-read that four-in-the-morning, rambling mess of an email I sent you and I thought to myself, 'Wow, I can't believe she even replied to me'. You gave me the kick in the butt I needed to finish this and finish it right. I'll always be grateful to you for that.
To Morgan—thank you for your ever-present enthusiasm. You've always been one of my loudest supporters and I've appreciated it every day since. Your love for Caleb and Isabelle (and the way you rooted for them all this time) lets me know I might have done something right.
To Ally—thank you for your willingness to work around your schedule for me. Your constant feedback really made a huge difference in the way I looked at my own writing. I don't know how long we've been exchanging documents—a few years, maybe??—but I think this is a good habit. Thank you so much for being my writing buddy.
To my mom—I know this genre isn't exactly your thing and I know you'd probably prefer if I wrote different 'types' of books, but thank you for never telling me not to and for analyzing and discussing this with me like we were in a book club ;) Thank you for supporting this crazy undertaking of turning two books into one.
To Michael—I know this one was really stressful for both of us. December buried us alive and it sort of felt like it was never going to be over, didn't it? Thank you for wanting me to do this just as much I've wanted to and pushing me to continue. Thank you for working so I could write.
Playlist for Carry You Home
"Knocked Up" by Kings of Leon
"Sweetest Girl (Dollar Bill)" by Wyclef Jean
"Small Bump" by Ed Sheeran
"Slow Dancing in a Burning Room" by John Mayer
"Folsom Prison Blues" by Johnny Cash
"You Were Meant For Me" by Jewel feat. The Pistol Annies
"Let Her Go" by Passenger
"Photograph" by Ed Sheeran
"Welcome to New York" by Ryan Adams
"Girl from the North Country" by Johnny Cash with Bob Dylan
"Pyro" by Kings of Leon
"When You Were Young"
by The Killers
"15 Step" by Radiohead
"Creepers (Young Love)" by Jessie Baylin
"One" by U2
"Lovesong" by Adele
"Style" by Ryan Adams
"Time After Time" by Cyndi Lauper
"Yuma" by Jessie Baylin
"How You Get The Girl" by Ryan Adams
"Everlong (Acoustic Version)" by Foo Fighters
"Use Somebody" by The Vitamin String Quartet
"Home" by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros
"Theme From New York, New York" by Frank Sinatra
"I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)" by Sleeping At Last