Page 71 of Out Of A Fix

“That was the air fryer,” Luke explained.

“The mac-’n-cheese came out much the same way,” Darwin said with a cough.

“No,” Luke was adamant. “No. That was because the stove was too hot and made the cheese runnier than I thought it could get.”

“Did you just say the stove was too hot?” I asked him, a picture starting to form.

“What about the spicy spaghetti?” Griff wanted to know. “Didn’t you make that with, like, salsa and marinara and tomato soup?”

“No. That was tomato paste.”

“Was it?” Griff did not sound convinced.

“Listen,” Luke began but went suddenly mute because Griff was already smiling crazily as he got up, walked around the table, and nearly fell into his father’s arms.

Luke’s face, the surprise and delight, happiness and tears, was worth the wait. Finally, Griff had let his father back in. And yes, he’d only been home half a day, but if it felt like an eternity to me, I was guessing it had to have been killing Luke. And he was right—I was more than a little attached to all of them.

EIGHT

The first night home, Luke got introduced to how dinner went with no phones at the table and all of us talking.

“Daddy, if you have to go work in your office, it’s okay,” Tatum assured him, smiling.

“No,” he said softly, and I really liked the smoky, low sound of his voice. I was also a big fan of the deep gold color of his skin, the thick blond lashes that framed his beautiful eyes, and the different colors in his brows, stubble, and hair. “I’d rather be here with all of you.”

“Nash likes jazz, so we usually listen to that,” Darwin explained. “But you can change it if you want. He said everyone gets a pick.”

His warm gaze met mine. “I like it. Let’s not change anything.”

I smiled at him. “Do you want water or something else?”

Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms and regarded me. “This actually brings up an excellent question.”

“And what is that?”

“Well, I seem to be out of beer, and the rest of my bar is not in the hutch where I left it. In fact, the entire hutch is gone.”

“You always said the hutch was ugly, so we sold it at the yard sale,” Tatum informed him.

“I see. Did you sell my booze too?”

“No. Nash kept the expensive things, and there’s a new cabinet right there,” she said, pointing. “It used to belong to Mrs. Singleton’s husband, but he died last year, remember?”

“I do.”

She nodded sagely. “So young.”

I put my head down so I wouldn’t laugh.

“He was, like, eighty-something,” Darwin reminded her. “Do you know how old eighty is?”

“Obviously, I meant young in spirit.”

“Nash,” Luke began, and I could hear him trying not to laugh. “What’s in the locked cabinet?”

Lifting my head, I said, “A lot of bourbon. I called my buddy Rais, who knows about all of it, and he told me what I better not touch on fear of my life, and what should join the rest of it in the sink and down the drain.”

“And why did any of it have to go?”