It’s not easy but she did mention she needed a little time to heal and I need to remember I’m not a small man.
As I gather up her sheets, she tilts her head. “What are you doing, now?”
“We can wash these at my place. I’m a man of many talents.”
“Clearly.” Laughing, she drops her pajama bottoms and we’re at it again.
Chapter 27
Danni
One year later
“I can’t believe it’s Thanksgiving again.” I drizzle grease over the turkey, shut the oven, and almost trip over Toby.
“Woof.” Sitting on his hind legs, he begs for a piece of skin, a trick he learned from my husband.
“No.” I shoo him into the living room and point my baster at Cole. “I think your dog is trying to kill me.”
“Ay-yup.” My traitorous husband pats his friend’s furry head and laughs at my scolding face.
“Not funny.”
Standing, he strides into the kitchen and pulls me into a bear hug. “Want to fuck?”
“Get serious.” I pretend to be outraged then smile. “I still can’t believe Mandy agreed to let us host this year.”
“Riiiight.” Cole guffaws, sneaks a roll, and I snap a wooden spoon at him.
“Okay, I might’ve laid it on a little thick, but Gram does do better in familiar settings which means our house.” I squeeze his hand, thanking him again for being so sweet.
A lot of men would see their new wife’s elderly relative as a burden but not mine, he was all in. A car engine stops in the street, I kneel on the couch, and check out the front window.
“They’re here.”
My brother and his husband knock and our door flies open. We all hug. Mom arrives next and I help her to situate Gram in her favorite lounge chair in front of a beloved movie.
When my husband’s four brothers arrive, our house turns into a melee of testosterone, tall tales of deer hunting, and football. Even Mandy’s husband joins in. He passes around the kids while we women work our magic in the kitchen.
The meal goes off without a hitch, we all fill our bellies, and after they all leave, I can’t help comparing this holiday to last.
Cole bounces next to me on the lumpy couch and puts his arm around my shoulder. “Happy?”
“Mmm. Almost.”
His face drops. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing bad. What would you say to the pitter patter of tiny feet?”
“You want a puppy?” When his brows crease, I realize he’s not joking and punch him in the arm.
“No, silly, a baby.”
His eyes go wide. “Us?”
“Well, yeah. Who else would I be talking about?” I forget sometimes how literal he is.
He stands, pumps a fist in the air, pulls me off the couch and swings me in circles. “Fuck. How? I mean, we only just started. I thought it would take months.”
