exchange my heels for comfy white flip-flops. Luckily, I just got a pedicure last weekend. My toes were painted a nice hue of pink.
Tristan is on time—six o’clock sharp—and we are on the back of his Harley by six oh five.
We ring the doorbell and there were two instances of, “Coming!” One sounded like Olivia and the other was Jake. Jake won out, opening the door and pulling me into his arms for a bear hug of epic proportion. The last time I saw him, I was riding on his back out of El Chili Rojo, drunk out of my gourd.
Once he puts me back to my feet and gives his brother a manly hug and slap to the back, I look over to the sunken living room, which has floor-to-ceiling windows, giving an amazing view of the foothills. Three steps up leads to a vast kitchen that sits in the center of the house, facing the living room over a breakfast bar. Next to that, there is a dining room that has a sliding glass door that opens up to the wraparound deck of the house. On that deck is where Jim is grilling.
I look to the family room and see Braden, Emma, and a beautiful blonde I have never met along with the cutest little boy who looks like her spitting image, only he’s missing two teeth in the front.
I smile at them and throw out a, “Hey!” I get a few heys back as I step down into the living room, squeezing my way in between Braden and Emma, placing my hand on her slightly swollen belly. I lean in and coo, “Hey, baby girl.”
“Baby girl? You mean baby boy,” Braden corrects. “My sperm is strong. It creates boys.”
Emma and I roll our eyes and giggle.
“It’s going to be a girl and we’re going to dress her up in anything and everything pink that we can find,” I respond.
Braden, Tristan, and Jake all groan.
The sliding glass door opens and Olivia comes barreling through it with a tray full of cooked brats. Emma and I leave the men to themselves and go to see what we can do to help. I wrap my arms around Olivia from behind and give her a tight squeeze before releasing her.
Emma clasps her hands together. “What can we do?”
“Do you know how to make potato salad?”
“I sure do. I could also eat it by the gallon.”
“Everything’s all set out.” Olivia jerks her head to the counter across the kitchen next to the fridge.
Emma bounces to the setup and gets to work.
“How about me, Livs? Whatcha got that I can help with?” I inquire.
Olivia jerks her head to the breakfast bar, where onions and peppers, a cutting board, and a butcher knife are placed. “You get the honors of chopping the toppings, gorgeous,” she replies.
When I move to the veggie station and get to chopping, the sound of the sliding glass door opening catches my attention. Jim’s head pops in.
He asks, “Can someone get me a beer? A man has to have a beer at all times while grilling his meat.”
I smile at him and rush to the fridge to get our chef a beer.
“Thanks, darlin’,” he says with a wink and resumes manning his grilling station.
About an hour later, we are all sitting at the picnic table on the back porch. I
look around the table as everyone digs into their burgers, brats, and chicken, actually feeling like a part of something. Something bigger than what I had growing up. I felt like a part of a unit. The closest to a big family unit that I have ever experienced.
My mother was amazing, so I don’t want to discount her, but when my father went to jail, everyone in our family alienated us. It was as if we had done it to that poor woman ourselves. A guilty-by-association charge with no possibility of parole. She had to uproot me to a new town because the kids were brutal and their parents were even worse. They all knew what my father had done and they weren’t going to let me live my life forgetting it either. I was pushed, kicked, and tripped from behind. One day, a group of kids chased me all of the way
Tristan is on time—six o’clock sharp—and we are on the back of his Harley by six oh five.
We ring the doorbell and there were two instances of, “Coming!” One sounded like Olivia and the other was Jake. Jake won out, opening the door and pulling me into his arms for a bear hug of epic proportion. The last time I saw him, I was riding on his back out of El Chili Rojo, drunk out of my gourd.
Once he puts me back to my feet and gives his brother a manly hug and slap to the back, I look over to the sunken living room, which has floor-to-ceiling windows, giving an amazing view of the foothills. Three steps up leads to a vast kitchen that sits in the center of the house, facing the living room over a breakfast bar. Next to that, there is a dining room that has a sliding glass door that opens up to the wraparound deck of the house. On that deck is where Jim is grilling.
I look to the family room and see Braden, Emma, and a beautiful blonde I have never met along with the cutest little boy who looks like her spitting image, only he’s missing two teeth in the front.
I smile at them and throw out a, “Hey!” I get a few heys back as I step down into the living room, squeezing my way in between Braden and Emma, placing my hand on her slightly swollen belly. I lean in and coo, “Hey, baby girl.”
“Baby girl? You mean baby boy,” Braden corrects. “My sperm is strong. It creates boys.”
Emma and I roll our eyes and giggle.
“It’s going to be a girl and we’re going to dress her up in anything and everything pink that we can find,” I respond.
Braden, Tristan, and Jake all groan.
The sliding glass door opens and Olivia comes barreling through it with a tray full of cooked brats. Emma and I leave the men to themselves and go to see what we can do to help. I wrap my arms around Olivia from behind and give her a tight squeeze before releasing her.
Emma clasps her hands together. “What can we do?”
“Do you know how to make potato salad?”
“I sure do. I could also eat it by the gallon.”
“Everything’s all set out.” Olivia jerks her head to the counter across the kitchen next to the fridge.
Emma bounces to the setup and gets to work.
“How about me, Livs? Whatcha got that I can help with?” I inquire.
Olivia jerks her head to the breakfast bar, where onions and peppers, a cutting board, and a butcher knife are placed. “You get the honors of chopping the toppings, gorgeous,” she replies.
When I move to the veggie station and get to chopping, the sound of the sliding glass door opening catches my attention. Jim’s head pops in.
He asks, “Can someone get me a beer? A man has to have a beer at all times while grilling his meat.”
I smile at him and rush to the fridge to get our chef a beer.
“Thanks, darlin’,” he says with a wink and resumes manning his grilling station.
About an hour later, we are all sitting at the picnic table on the back porch. I
look around the table as everyone digs into their burgers, brats, and chicken, actually feeling like a part of something. Something bigger than what I had growing up. I felt like a part of a unit. The closest to a big family unit that I have ever experienced.
My mother was amazing, so I don’t want to discount her, but when my father went to jail, everyone in our family alienated us. It was as if we had done it to that poor woman ourselves. A guilty-by-association charge with no possibility of parole. She had to uproot me to a new town because the kids were brutal and their parents were even worse. They all knew what my father had done and they weren’t going to let me live my life forgetting it either. I was pushed, kicked, and tripped from behind. One day, a group of kids chased me all of the way
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