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“Honestly.” Jen takes a deep, satisfied inhale as she chews. “I could just have this for dinner and be happy.”
“This is fine.” I pop a cracker in my mouth. “But when you’re here, I’m feeding you real food.”
She grins. “You’re a three-squares-a-day kind of guy, huh?”
I shrug. “I really liked how y’all sat down to dinner every night. As a family, I mean, when y’all were growing up. Stuck with me, I guess.”
“Dinner was my favorite meal growing up. Mom and Dad made the best food.” She brings her drink to her lips. “Seems like forever ago, doesn’t it? I miss that time.”
I do too.
“You don’t appreciate it until it’s gone.” Jen spreads agenerous chunk of goat cheese on a cracker. “Having someone make you a delicious meal at the end of the day? And then clean up that meal while you pretend to do homework in your room?” She shakes her head. “We had no idea how good we had it.”
“I did.”
“Aw, Abel.” She sets down her drink and puts her hand on mine. Her palm is cold from the ice in her cup. “Have you heard from him at all? Your dad?”
I drain what’s left of my drink. “He’ll call every few months. Nothing new to report. You want another?” I nod at her glass.
“Sure. I can?—”
“I got it.”
So much for taking it easy. I just—her touch. Her genuine sympathy and kindness and understanding. It’s unbearable.
So is talking about my dad.
I really won’t survive this.
I mix up another round of cocktails. Determined to maintain control of the conversation, I head back into the kitchen. “Let’s nail this down. Our relationship. Since it’s technically already started, we should know our story.”
“Okay. Great.” Jen takes a long pull of her margarita. “First question: are we dating? Engaged? Or do we go all in and say we’re married?”
I gather some cheese in a slice of ham and wash it down with tequila. “We’re married. We eloped with the help of a justice of the peace at the courthouse in Wilmington.”
Jen blinks. “You’ve given this some real thought.”
“Tuck would try to interfere—break us up—if we didn’t go all the way. If we’re married, he won’t fuck with us. Even he can’t tear us asunder, or whatever that saying is.”
“He’s still going to fuck with us. With you, specifically.”
“Well, yeah. Okay if I give the dogs some?” I hold up a cracker.
Jen grins. “Only because it’s a special occasion.”
I break the cracker in half and feed it to the dogs. “But he can’t put his foot down and say I can’t have you if you’re already my wife. We say we’re married and that’s that. Unless he wants to break up a family and break his sister’s heart in the process, there’s nothing he can do.”
Jen is taking another log sip from her glass. “He’s going to be so angry, Abel. What do we say when he asks why we didn’t just tell him we were tying the knot?”
I think on this for a minute, swirling the tequila in my glass. “We knew he wouldn’t be crazy about the idea, and we didn’t want to upset him so close to the baby’s arrival.”
“Right.” Jen nods slowly. “We didn’t want to ruin what needed to be a peaceful time for him and his family, so we waited until after the baby came to share our happy news. We also didn’t want to steal their thunder. That tracks.” She frowns. “But why didn’t we wait to get married then too?”
“Joe’s diagnosis. Like I said, it made us realize there’s no guarantee how much time any of us has, and we were done wasting it being alone. And maybe seeing Maren and Tuck get together had already nudged us in that direction.”
She blinks, her green eyes so clear they look like liquid pools of light. “That’s beautiful.”
I look away. “Whatever happens, I’ll handle Tuck. You’re gonna have to convince your dad we’re for real.”
