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“When Winter was pregnant with our second, I forgot that she no longer liked chocolate donuts and made the mistake of buying her one as an ‘I love you’ gift on the way home from a run. When I gave it to her, she started crying and accused me of not loving her anymore.” Jack offered his hand to Hoax, who’d stuck his hand out immediately after shaking hands with my dad. “Jack. You must be Hoax.”
Hoax nodded. “I didn’t buy any chocolate. Pru told me she was partial to all things glazed, and that her dad’s favorite was the blueberry cake. If I’d known you were here, I would’ve bought more. Sorry, man. You want one of the glazed?”
Jack took the plain glazed and took a bite out of it.
Dad took the blueberry cake that Hoax had bought for him—another thing he’d remembered—and took a bite.
His groan of euphoria made everyone laugh.
“Shut up,” Dad grumbled. “I’m having a moment.”
Hoax set the box down on the toolbox and reached for a plain glazed donut, too. Then he ate half of it in one bite.
I rolled my eyes and took a bite of my donut, nearly moaning myself at the taste.
“I need…” I said after my first bite.
“Chocolate milk?” Hoax asked, holding out a small jug of it to me. “They only had the one kind, not the two percent you said you like better. But I remember you saying that as long as it was Borden brand, you could drink it. I got you a straw, too.”
Once I took the milk, he fished out a straw that was likely in the same place the milk had once been.
After taking it from him, I offered him another smile. “Thanks.”
“I didn’t learn that Cheyenne didn’t like chocolate milk until a year after I continued to buy it for her on my Sunday morning donut runs with the girls. We laugh about it now, but I’m just impressed that you know she likes a particular brand only.” Dad shook his head.
“We were talking about our favorite foods,” Hoax admitted. “I expect her to return the favor if she ever gets me anything. She better not forget that I don’t like root beer or I’ll have to reconsider our relationship.”
I shoved another bite into my mouth as I rolled my eyes.
“Dear Lord,” I snickered. “I don’t think I could forget with how graphic of a description you gave me.” I turned to my dad, who was reaching for another donut. “He told me that root beer reminded him of the scum of the earth and that when he smelled it, it made him have nightmares.”
Dad’s brows went up, and Hoax shrugged. “That shit’s disgusting, what can I say?”
Hoax shoved his hand into the pocket of his leather jacket, and something crinkled.
My brows rose. “What’s that?”
He pulled out four fortune cookies and showed them to me. “Did you know the donut store on the corner up here does fortune cookies?”
I reached forward and snatched one up, as did my dad and Jack.
We all cracked them open at the same time, and I smiled when I read mine.
“The fortune you seek is in another cookie,” I read aloud.
Hoax snorted, but it was Dad who replied with, “If that ain’t the truth.”
“What does yours say?” I asked Hoax.
“Love is not for the weak of heart,” he read.
Our eyes connected, and something big passed between us.
It wasn’t until Jack read his that our gazes finally disconnected.
“Marriage lets you annoy one special person for the rest of your life,” Jack laughed his way through his fortune.
“Nice,” Dad snorted. “That one fits perfectly, too.”
“What’s yours, Dad?” I asked.
“Uhhh…” He paused. “It’s a boy.”
I frowned. “That’s your fortune?”
He handed it over, and sure enough, that’s exactly what it said. “Huh.”
“Boring,” Hoax muttered. “Everyone’s was good but yours.”
“Unless your wife decides to bring home another puppy…” Jack offered.
Dad cursed. “If she brings home another dog, I’m going to lose my shit.”
“I can bring home another dog if I want to,” my mother’s voice came from behind us.
Dad’s eyes widened slightly, and he tossed me the half-eaten donut that’d been in his hand.
I immediately tossed it to Hoax seeing as I had a half-eaten one of my own in my hand.
Hoax immediately took a bite and grimaced.
My eyes started to water as I held the laughter in at the look on his face.
Hoax had told us a funny story at dinner the other night about how much he hated blueberries and why. Seeing his face as he bit into that donut would be a memory I would go back on each time I needed a laugh. Or to remember how much this man was beginning to mean to me.
For him to eat something he hated so that my dad could save face, made me want to giggle my ass off.
