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“You have been awfully quiet tonight,” Eddie remarked softly, breaking the silence they had been comfortably coexisting in for the past half hour. They’d changed out of their church clothes immediately after returning home from Sunday dinner with his family, then settled in on the sofa, Jamie’s head resting in her lap as some black-and-white movie played quietly in the background, largely ignored by its audience. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he assured her quickly, tilting back so he could gaze up at her and exhaling deeply when he saw the all-too-knowing expression on her face. “It’s nothing,” he tried again. “I invited Joe to Sunday dinner when we were back at the crime scene, and he had plans, that’s all.”
She ran a hand gently through his hair, the other falling to rest against his cheek. “Jamie, he does have another family,” she reminded her husband kindly.
“I know that, but…” Jamie shook his head. “It’s just, I know I just met the kid. Logically, I know that. But that doesn’t keep it from feeling wrong not to keep him close. I mean, he’s Joe’s son. He’s family, and I have never known what to do with my family but keep them close. It’s just, it’s not how I was raised.”
“I know it’s not how you were raised, Jamie, but maybe it’s how he was raised,” she suggested gently, fingers still absentmindedly carding through his hair. “I mean, you Reagans, the bond you have with each other… you all are freaks of nature in the best possible way, but that doesn’t mean you’re not still freaks of nature. I mean, honey, you have dinner together every week, without fail. I honestly can’t think of many times I’ve seen anyone missing from that table, regardless of what goes on during the week. Meanwhile, most families – or my family, at the very least…” She trailed off, tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling thoughtfully. “I honestly can’t remember us ever having a tradition like that.”
“You never had Sunday dinners?” Jamie questioned curiously, lifting his head slightly to stare up at her. “I just assumed that… you told me once that it was harder to forgive your dad because all your memories of him were so good.”
“My memories of my dad are good,” she clarified quickly. “But he wasn’t around all the time. He had to work, a lot, and my mother was involved with just about every society and organization that existed back then, so she was busy most of the time, too.” She once again met his gaze, offering a half-shrug as she smiled down at him, something resembling sadness or possibly grief lost in the depth of her eyes. “We all ate together when I lived with my parents, of course, for convenience if nothing else, but the second I moved out, I stopped going home. I had a meal plan at college, and a credit card if I didn’t want to stick to the meal plan options, and I really did not want my parents cramping my style by pulling the overprotective routine, so I just… stayed away.”
“And after college?”
She shrugged again. “My first three years out of college, I was an art curator in Manhattan. I didn’t really have much free time just to eat Sunday dinner myself, let alone make the drive out to my parents’ place every week. After my father’s arrest, I started using work as an excuse to avoid going home, even if I was much more level than before, and then later, after my brother’s murder, I… well, I quit my job and lived off the little bit of trust fund money that hadn’t been confiscated by the government until I could take the NYPD entrance exam. I used up most of my Sunday evenings studying. And even after I got into the Academy, I didn’t see my mother more than I had to. I didn’t want to hear about how I was throwing my life away, and being around her just reminded me of my dad and my brother, so I avoided it as often as I could. Even before we got engaged, Mom and I only had maybe one or two Sunday dinners. One was on Easter; the other was on Christmas.”
“Oh.” Jamie studied her for a moment. “I’m sorry.”
She exhaled laughingly, smoothing a tuft of hair away from his forehead. “You don’t need to be sorry, Jamie. Before I married into your family and got pulled into the specific, wonderful insanity that is being a Reagan, I had absolutely no idea what I was missing out on.” She paused for a moment, gazing down at him with a fond half-smile lighting her face. “Honey, look, all I’m trying to say is… I know Joe’s family to you, alright? He’s your nephew, and you love him already, even though you haven’t known each other that long.”
“I sense there’s a but coming, sooner or later,” Jamie murmured under his breath, leaning into her palm.
“But,” she continued, smiling at him teasingly, “we’re all only having to get used to one person. He’s having to get used to almost a dozen of us, all while grieving a father he never actually got to meet and working full-time in a field where his safety’s in no way guaranteed. The kid’s under a ton of pressure every day, Jamie, and he’s barely old enough to drink. Maybe he just… needs a bit of a break, right now. Time, so he can get his head on straight, or straighter, at the very least.”
Her husband exhaled slowly, his eyes drifting briefly shut before his lashes fluttered and he was staring at her again. “I know. I do. And I’m trying to be better about giving him that time, but it still feels wrong. It feels like I’m failing Joe. Failing both of them.”
“Hey.” She cupped his cheek once more. “You’ve been there for your nephew every single chance you’ve had, Jamie. He knows you’ve got his back. And as for your brother… he knows, too. He knows you’re not going to let anything happen to his son out there. You aren’t failing either of them, alright? I promise.”
“I know that, too. It’s just…”
“Sometimes you need a reminder?” his wife cut in gently. “Don’t worry. Everyone does, every now and then.”
“Maybe so, but still, thank you.”
“For what?” she questioned, sounding genuinely confused.
“For always being around to remind me of the things I need reminding of.”
The smile she flashed him then easily could have lit their apartment. “Anytime.”