Brandon chuckled, shaking his head. Apparently he was tasked with the garlic-ing of the bread. “Just remember who’ll be signing your paychecks in a couple of weeks.” He shot me a playful warning tone, and I almost called him on it, but David beat me to it.
“I will,” he said. He tugged off the oven mitts and came to me, holding out his hand. “We’re glad you could come tonight. It’s good to see you.”
“Thanks.” I shook his hand. I might have allowed Jenna’s hug, but I wasn’t comfortable with it. And David was now technically my boss.
Hudson dropped my hand and pulled his dad into a hug. “How you doing, old man?”
“Not so old I still can’t whip you for calling me old.”
“Please. You’ve never whipped anyone. You’re too soft.” He poked his dad in the ribs and stepped back.
This was a normal family, filled with misfits and love and loud laughter and probably messes that didn’t always get picked up immediately after making them without consequences.
It wasn’t entirely foreign to me. Most of my friends in high school, especially Kendra, came from families like this. Not all. Many were far less than perfect. Some I wouldn’t have wanted to trade my own family in for. It’d just been so long since I was around normalcy, my skin started to itch, like I was draped in a cheap wool sweater.
“As soon as these yahoos stop arguing over the bread and get it cooking, dinner will be ready,” David said. “Can I get you something to drink?”
A half-emptied wine glass sat on the counter, lipstick print that matched Jenna’s mouth color on the rim. Two other glasses were out, filled with what looked like beer. “Water, please. Thank you.”
“I’ll get it,” Hudson said. His hand settled at my lower back, gently guiding me toward the barstools close to Brandon. “Have a seat. Relax,” he whispered into my ear.
Tension in my shoulders and neck relaxed at the soft command. I hadn’t realized I was so tense, but as I scooted onto the stool, it left me with a gentle whoosh.
Right.
Family.
Dinner.
Normal Sunday things.
I could do this.
He returned with two water bottles, sliding one in front of me and uncapping his own bottle.
Next to me, Brandon capped the garlic salt, but I took it from him. “More garlic,” I said. “Jenna’s right.”
She laughed, that boisterous contagious sound, and slapped her hand to the counter. “I love you already.”
“Word to the wise,” Brandon said, smiling down at me. “Jenna is always right. Or at least she believes she is.” He shot his fiancée a wink, filled with intent even I, as inexperienced as I was, could see the playful wickedness in.
“You know what they say. Happy wife, happy life.”
“That’s the truth,” David said. “Is that bread finally ready yet, or are we going to be waiting until tomorrow to eat dinner?”
I gave the garlic salt shaker another pass over the bread. “It’s good now.”
I expected dinner to be as lively as the dinner prep time had been.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
As soon as the oven timer went off, signaling the bread was done, David told us all to take a seat. Jenna and Brandon slid into chairs across from Hudson and me, David at the head of the table sandwiched by the guys.
Then, everyone descended on dinner like vultures, terrified they might never eat another meal again. Instead of laughter and conversation, there were mumbled, “Oh damn, this is good. Keeps getting better. More bread.” That last from Jenna.
Said multiple times.
The girl could eat her weight in carbs at a single meal, I was certain.
Through it all, there was little talk of work. Instead, there was teasing about the golf season over, banter over the football season and predictions on who would make the Super Bowl.
According to Jenna, that was the Carolina Rough Riders—because she loved their teal and blue uniforms. Also, because according to her, the quarterback Beaux Hale had the best ass in the NFL and was from Des Moines, so he was a hometown favorite.
Brandon smiled indulgently at her as she explained all this, shaking his head as if he found her favorite team based on colors and hometowns adorable and absolutely acceptable.
“I might try to talk to our florist, see if she can find some blue flowers for my bouquet.” She tapped her chin.
“Whatever you want, dear,” Brandon mumbled over a bite of bread.
“When’s the wedding?” I asked.
“December twelfth. We wanted to be back from our honeymoon for Christmas.”
“Wow. That’s coming quick. Are you ready?”
“About six weeks and yeah, it’s overwhelming. There are tons of things to do over the next few weeks. Final dress fittings, menu finalizing before we start getting the RSVPs returned to do the seating charts…”
She trailed off, eyes glazed as if still running through her mental to-do list.
“New flowers, too? Again?” Brandon asked.
“No. I was joking about the blue. They’d clash with the dresses my girls are wearing.”
“Of course, and we can’t have that,” Hudson said, chiming in.
“Men.” She rolled her eyes and focused on me. “They don’t get it. Amiright?”
I shrugged. Men weren’t exactly in my expertise wheelhouse. Neither was wedding planning. Instead of answering, I asked, “Where are you going on your honeymoon?”
“Fiji. We have this incredible private villa right over the water. White sandy beaches, gorgeous blue water. I can’t freaking wait. It’ll be amazing.” Her eyes lit up and she smiled at Brandon.
“I did a pretty good job planning it, didn’t I?”
“Yes. You could take directions very well from me printing out the three places I wanted to go with specific resorts.” She rolled her eyes again at him, but then fell into his shoulder with a happy sigh. “I can’t wait until we’re married.”
“Me either.” He kissed the top of her head and draped his arm over her chair, curling her more snuggly against him.
The move was so sweet I looked down at my plate. What would that feel like? To have someone love you so much?
I blinked until the emotion receded and cleared my throat.
“What about you, Lilly?” Brandon asked. “Were you able to give your notice at Judith’s on Friday?”
“I was.”
“And then she was fired,” Hudson said.
“What?” It came from a chorus of all three of them. “Why? How?”
“It’s fine.” I gritted my teeth and glared at Hudson. “She had me finish the weekend shift like I usually do. But that’s okay.” Somehow, sitting with the three of them, asking for an early start didn’t feel right. Definitely not professional. If I could have kicked Hudson under the table for putting me on the spot, I would have.
“You can start early.”
“That’s not—”
“In fact, I insist,” Brandon said. “Why don’t you start on Wednesday? Take tomorrow to rest and then we’ll get you up and going in a few days. That will give me time to work with Sandra on what she wants to train you on first.”