He left his gorgeous Iris in search of an unoccupied camp chair. He needed to show her that he was willing to fit into her life, which meant sitting next to her and hanging out with her, not wandering off and leaving her alone, no matter what she said she was okay with.

He’d been chewing over their little spat before the speeches had begun, and best as he could figure, she didn’t seem to trust that he’d take care of her. She seemed to think that she had to do everything on her own, without relying on him for anything, including holding her up while they danced.

Come hell or high water, he was determined to show her that wasn’t true. No matter what, he was going to take care of her. He loved her too damn much not to.

“Hey, brother,” Stetson said, interrupting Declan’s thoughts, and his search for a chair. His younger brother was holding Flint, his beautiful baby boy. He was swaddled up so well in coats and boots and scarves and hats and mittens, Declan could barely spot his tiny eyes peering out at the world.

“You’re brave, taking a kid like this out into the cold,” Declan said. He reached out and stroked Flint over his knitted cap, the flaps tied securely over his tiny ears. It was hard to fathom that he’d ever been this small, although the baby pictures his mom used to show him attested otherwise.

But Flint was just so little.

“Eh, Jennifer put so many layers on him, I think he could survive a trip to Antartica at this point,” Stetson said with a laugh. “So when are you gonna get yourself one of these little buggers?” He patted Flint on the back soothingly as the little guy started to squirm. He quickly fell back into his papa’s arms, content to just hang out for the moment.

Declan looked at his nephew as love swelled up inside of him. “Damn, I don’t know. If I could know for sure that my kid would take after Iris instead of me in the looks department, well then, maybe I’d be willing to give it a try. You wouldn’t want this ugly mug on a kid, though.” He stroked his chin and stared off into the distance for a moment, striking a pose for Stetson. He enjoyed the hearty chuckle that Stetson let loose, and decided that he ought to flip some shit at him, as any good older brother would do.

“It’s obvious that you got lucky with this one,” he said, patting Flint on the back. “He’s the spittin’ image of Jennifer. Can you imagine if he’d looked a damn thing like you?” Stetson let out a roar of laughter.

Actually, the kid was cute as a button and he looked just like Stetson had as a baby, but what kind of an older brother would he be if he said something like that? They’d probably take his Older Brother Card away from him. You couldn’t just go around, complimenting your siblings. That was crazy talk.

As he looked into Flint’s sleepy eyes, though, slowly settling closed and then jerking back open as he struggled to stay awake just one minute more, Declan realized that despite his teasing, having a kid was absolutely what he wanted.

Having a kid with Iris was all that he wanted.

He sobered up and said seriously, “I do want a baby, though. Ten of ‘em, if Iris will let me.”

Stetson let out a choked laugh. “You might want to start with one and go from there,” he said dryly.

Declan waved his comment away. “I’ll take as many as she’ll give me. Speaking of, I was supposed to be rustlin’ up a chair so I could sit next to her. I better get a move on.”

“I saw a free chair over there,” Stetson said, pointing past the food tables, “about ten minutes ago. No idea if it’s still free or not, though.”

Declan nodded his thanks and headed that direction. He walked past the large bonfire, roaring and shooting up sparks into the quickly deepening twilight, and felt a twist of joy and pleasure shoot through him at the sight. He ought to move Iris over to the bonfire. She’d enjoy the large flames and everyone standing around it, chatting and singing Christmas carols.

He finally spotted a lonely camp chair, abandoned in the shadows cast by the dancing flames, and headed towards it quickly. He wanted to snag it before someone else realized it was free. Iris was probably wondering where on earth he’d gone. This had taken a lot longer than he’d anticipated. Finding a free chair was harder—

“Hey,” Abby said as she tapped him on the shoulder. He spun on the icy snow, surprised by her sudden appearance.

“Oh my God, Abby, you gave me a heart attack,” he said, laughing. But her face was stone-cold serious as she looked back at him, and he quickly sobered up. “What’s wrong?” he asked, panic beginning to wind its way through his veins.

“You need to take Iris home,” she said in a clipped tone of voice, jerking her head back towards where he’d left her. He couldn’t see her through the crowds and the bonfire and the gathering darkness, but whatever was going on, Abby seemed to think it was something awful. Her normally happy, open face was drawn into a deep scowl.

One that seemed to be directed straight at him.

“What’s going on?” he asked, flummoxed. He’d never had his sister-in-law even slightly unhappy with him, let alone pissed.

He couldn’t begin to guess what was going on.

“Go take care of her,” Abby ordered, and Declan could suddenly see how she’d made it as a police officer all these years. An angry Abby wasn’t someone he wanted to mess around with.

He jerked his head in acknowledgment and took off with a brisk trot. Whatever it was, he’d fix it. Had he been gone too long? Iris had said that she was fine being left by herself, but maybe she hadn’t really meant it. Girls did that sometimes – they’d say one thing but expect you to know that they really felt something else completely different. Maybe she’d gone and pulled that stunt on him.

But when he could finally see Iris, he realized something else was wrong. Really wrong. His prideful, stubborn, independent, smart, amazing Iris…was crying.

In public.

In all the years he’d known her, he’d only known her to shed happy tears. She’d never cried from pain or sadness or anger, even that time she broke her leg while they were out hiking in high school.

But even in the awful lighting being cast from the bonfire and propane burners, he could tell that these were not happy tears.

Had someone said something to her? Made fun of her? He felt anger boiling up inside of him at whoever’d made her feel like this. He’d find them and beat them and make them wish they’d never been such assholes. He’d make them pay. No one made his Iris feel awful.

No one.

But when he got to her side and dropped to his knees, she just looked at him, eyes dead. Blank. There was no love, no happiness, no joy. “I’d like to go home now,” she said firmly, in complete contrast to the tears rolling down her face.

“Of course,” he said, helping her to her feet and draping the blanket over his arm. “Are you okay? What happened?”

She didn’t answer but instead snuffled once or twice, dashed the tears away on her cheeks and shoved her arm through his, using him to help her balance on the tricky icy ground. Using her cane for balance, they walked slowly through the gathering. They wished goodnight to anyone who talked to them, but never stopped moving, slowly, painfully, through the throngs and over to her MIL apartment. He helped her down the two front steps to the sunken front door, and opened it for her. She walked through…and slammed the door in his face.

He stared at the closed door in front of him for a long minute.

Yup, that had just happened, and he had no idea why.