Bea snickers as I look at the three of them. “Yes and thank you,” I whisper because this is a big step for all of us, and my eyes well with tears I try like hell to blink back.
And fail.
“Aww, sweetie!” Bea says as she wraps me in a hug. I freeze for only a second before melting into her embrace. Hugs andfriends and leaving my children with someone all in the span of a heartbeat.
“Tears are stupid,” I mutter with a laugh but she just hugs me tighter.
“It’s okay,” she whispers. “Sometimes it’s hard when you finally realize how loved you are.”
“Stop making her cry,” Ellison teases as she pushes Bea out of the way and pulls me into her arms. She’s the perfect height in boots so that my head is now resting on her boobs, and I can’t help the belly laugh that bursts from my chest. “See? Boobs fix everything.”
“I’ve never subscribed to that belief,” Cal says with a side-eye glance that has us all dissolving into giggles.
“Agree to disagree,” Ellison says with the lift of one shoulder and a smirk. “Now, let’s talk about tomorrow…”
37
MASON
“That’s not how Mom does it,” Beck says as I place the plastic pint of blueberries in the cart as Holland walks beside me. We’d spent most of the morning on Cedar Lake. It was the perfect day to kayak, and it’d filled me with pride to be able to give Lana a break for some self-care.
On the other hand, her grocery list was kicking my ass.
“What do you mean?”
He shrugs. “I dunno. She, like, turns it over and stuff, makes sure there’s no bad ones.”
I open my mouth and then close it knowing that my standards are lower than the rest of the population on this topic. Most times I was just happy to have food, and being picky was not something I could afford.
And sometimes I still forget I’m not that kid anymore.
“Show me what she does,” I say, picking the container from the cart and handing it to him.
“Why?”
“Because it’s important to her and I want to respect the work she puts in to feeding you and your sister.”
“But isn’t she just happy she doesn’t have to get the groceries?”
“It’s part of it. But Beck, being a partner isn’t about just completing a task. It’s about doing it right. I’m trying to help your mom—take some of the burden. I want her to look at me and say ‘He’s got this. I don’t need to worry or second-guess or do it over because he screwed it up.’”
“I’d get used to it; she still refolds my shirts even though I think they look fine.”
Holding back a smile, I nod at the container. “Show me so we can get out of here and make dinner.”
“And have a snack?” Holland asks with her big puppy dog eyes.
“Maybea snack,” I relent even though I’ll most definitely say yes.
The rest of the store is much of the same, me ticking off the list and Beck telling me it’s not the right kind. It’s an oddly nice bonding experience with Beck gaining confidence as we walk up and down each aisle, helpfully getting the things his mother wants.
At the checkout, Beck and Holland argue over who’s better and faster at packing the groceries. Customers snicker and grin as they watch us, and while there are some lingering stares, no one is anything other than polite as we pay and head for the car.
Holland shouts out song requests and Beck ignores them, turning his songs up louder, the two of them bickering over the music. It’s chaos but I fucking love it.
It continues the entire way back to the house, and the second we park, I turn and face both of them.
“We’re gonna take the groceries in and unpack and then we’re each gonna tackle a room in the house for your mom. If we can do it quick, we’ll have a snack and the whole rest of the weekend to relax. Deal?”
