Page 43 of Peaches & Pistols

“Yea, nothing like the chaos here, right?” James adds.

The kitchen is bustling, joyous chatter bounces off the wall, and tinkling laughter comes from deeper in the house from my daughter and her new best friend.

“Dinner’s ready!” Reid hollers to me and James through the house.

“Did you wear your turkey pants?” James asks, elbowing me in the gut.

“Shut the hell up.”

Because yes, I did.

“That was amazing, Cecelia. Thank you so much for inviting us,” Mia says sweetly. Her pure gratitude tugs on my heart, having received so few kindnesses in her life.

Reid and Izzy are tangled in a heap on a chair only big enough for one person, all loved up like newlyweds should be.

“Sweetheart, I keep tryin’ to tell you, you’re family. Now, can I send y’all home with some to-go plates?” Cecelia offers, the queen of feeding her kids.

“That’s not necess—” Mia starts to decline, but I cut her off.

“Yes, please, ma’am. You know I’ll never turn down your cookin’. I’m counting on stuffing my face with leftovers for at least two days.” I pat my stomach.

My abs are covered by a layer of…leftovers—I’ve got a dad-bod, and it’s only filled out since Mia started feeding me.

“Oh sweetheart, your bag’s already good to go.”

Everyone laughs, knowing damn well what a sucker I am for her cooking. Maybe I have mommy issues, considering mine stopped raising me when I was a child. I’m eternally grateful to Cecelia and Walter for taking me in.

Cecelia points a look at Mia, repeating her question with those motherly eyes.

“Everly loved your rolls, and I couldn’t say no to a small smattering of everything,” Mia admits sheepishly, and Cecelia’s tickled pink getting to mama-bird two more ducklings.

She shuffles off to build another to-go plate as the front door opens, blowing cold autumn air into the family room.

“Oh, good! You’re still here!” Delilah heads straight for Mia, arms open and ready to embrace her.

Mia flinches from the hug, imperceptible to most, but not to me. I know Mia’s body language, every facial expression and tone of voice. I dig my fingernails into my palms to stop from pulling Delilah off her, but she lets Mia go.

“Did we miss dessert?” Connor asks.

“Yep,” Reid calls from behind a curtain of Izzy’s hair.

“Damnit,” Connor says under his breath.

“I saved a piece of everything for you to share,” Izzy says from her place on Reid’s lap.

“Yes!” Connor pumps his fist and makes a bee line for the kitchen.

The kids have grown tired of the boring adult conversation and have taken to a giggly game of hide-and-seek. I’m so thankful Mia and Everly wandered into our lives. I’ve never seen my daughter happier.

“How was dinner?” Delilah asks.

“It was good, better than last year,” I reply.

I know what she’s asking. She’s not asking how the food was, she’s asking how the family held up on Sam’s favorite holiday, without him.

“More laughter than tears, more memories shared,” I say.

I look to Mia, who’s gotta be missing her sister today, but hasn’t said a word.