“That’s normal,” she says gently. “You’re marrying a good one though. Mason’s solid.”
“He really is,” I admit, smiling. “We’re meeting up for dinner.”
She glances at the clock. “Yeah. That’s good.” She shifts back to the door. “I gotta get going. Blake’s working late and I told Addison she wouldn’t have to feed the boys dinner.”
I laugh. “Oh gosh, go save her.”
She laughs too, grabs her bag, and heads for the hall with one last wave goodbye.
Chapter 5
Megan
Sitting around Mason’s family’s long dinner table, it’s loud—like always. Three little girls under three make enough commotion on their own, but add in the rest of us, and it’s a wonder anyone hears anything. Karissa’s due next month—pretty sure with a boy, though they’re waiting to find out at birth. Cody wanted to know, but I guess he lost that argument.
Mason sits beside me in uniform, still smelling faintly of aftershave and the outdoors. He worked early this morning into late morning—some emergency, I think. He hasn’t told me the details yet, and I haven’t had the chance to ask. I was here before him.
We join hands, and his dad, Leonard, leads prayer like always. My thumb brushes over the back of Mason’s hand, and I can’t help remembering the hook incident a week ago. I still can’t believe I fainted.
The food starts making its way around, and like always, chaos sets in. Jesse and Ella juggle plates for both their girls, cutting food into toddler-sized bites. Cody and Karissa do the same, their two-year-old squirming in her high chair. Since they all sit on the same side of the table, everything jams up, pots and pans bottlenecking in the middle.
“One of these days we’ll rearrange the seating chart so we’re not racing each other,” Cody huffs, fighting with a spoon while Emma whines for green beans.
“It’s fine,” Maureen says calmly, passing rolls. “Take your time, no rush.”
“Well, some of us have been smelling that roast all day,” Leonard chimes in, his tone teasing, and Maureen swats him with her napkin.
“It won’t matter soon anyway,” Addison says, spooning gravy onto her potatoes. “We’ll all have kids scattered between us on both sides before long.”
The table goes quiet for half a second, then—
“Oh?” Maureen says.
Jesse presses, “Is that so?”
“Are you hinting at something?” Ella adds.
Addison laughs, shaking her head. “No! Not what I meant. I’m not pregnant.” She smirks at Wesley and nudges her elbow into his ribs. “Not yet, at least.”
“Good Lord, Addison, we’re eating,” Cody mutters, head shaking with disgust.
“I thought you were waiting until your one year?” Mason cuts in, brows raised.
That’s true. I remember her saying that not long after their wedding last July. Their anniversary’s not even two months away.
“We are. She’s just counting down the days,” Wesley explains as he takes a roll from the basket and passes it along to Addison. “No really. She has a stack of sticky notesliterallycounting down the days in our room,” he says, and that warrants a laugh out of everyone.
All the food finally finds a place on the table—bowls squeezed in between casserole dishes, rolls piled high, gravy ladled into one of Maureen’s vintage bowls. Plates are full, conversationsoverlap, and the hum of family fills every inch of the dining room.
I find myself watching Cora. She’s sitting beside Ella in her little booster seat now that she’s almost two and a half. She’s gripping her fork in her whole fist, like she’s threatening the green beans instead of eating them. She shoves a big bite into her mouth, her tiny jaw working hard but her lips sealed tight, determined. Her light-blonde hair bounces with every chew.
“Where is the cake?” she asks the second she swallows.
Jesse and Ella crack up, and I can’t help but smile. It definitely sounds like something they bribed her with before coming over. Either that, or she saw Emma’s second birthday cake cooling on the counter in the kitchen.
“We’ll have that after we eat,” Jesse tells her. “Eat your meat.”
Cora doesn’t move her fork. Instead, she twists in her booster seat to look behind her at Hallie, who’s in the high chair just a few feet away, close enough to be part of the table but still technically in her own little world. Hallie is happily smashing her own dinner into questionable patterns only she understands.
