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They kept everyone busy.
And happy.
Jillian’s mother was oddly absent. I hadn’t seen her around in a couple of years.
Which was odd.
But, Jillian did bring her fiancé—who was a real douchecanoe, and the only person here I actively tried to avoid if possible.
Beau and Trey brought their long-time friend, Cash, who also played on the men’s pro team. Cash brought his mom, and his girlfriend—a hot, young, voluptuous, up and coming movie star.
The dynamics in this room alone could fill a book.
Or several of them.
Jillian, Gigi, and Hannah—Marianne’s last born, and her spitting image—waltzed into the kitchen, likely to find out what was so funny.
When Marianne could catch her breath, she spoke to them—and then they all erupted in laughter.
And, my heart grew again.
The charming Dr. Barnes was playing with Gigi and Beau’s French bulldogs, and Trey and Lexi’s little Hayley—who wasn’t so little anymore—and also the gorgeous blonde he’d brought along.
I couldn’t for the life of me remember her name—nor would I have to. Knowing him, he’d have a new woman by New Year’s Eve.
I looked over at the enormous table my wife had insisted we buy.
When she’d told me about the local artist and craftsperson who was going to design it, especially for our place, I thought she was crazy.
And I quickly pointed out that it could fit a small village around it.
To that, she got a dreamy look on her face and said, “I know.”
So, the table to beat all tables was ordered, made, and then finally delivered the day before my surgery.
I told her I was glad to be able to see the table that we’d spent a year’s wage on—for some people. Because it would suck big time if I didn’t survive the surgery to be able to witness that sucker brought into the house.
Good, God, it was massive.
I wasn’t sure how many trees had to die in order to make the Hunter family dining table—but a few for sure.
“Old man,” my son-in-law called to me from that very table. He waved me over. “Do you need us to come help you out?” he asked, and Beau and Cash chuckled.
“Fuck off, Son.” I glared at him as they joked at my expense.
“Dinner’s in an hour. That should give you enough time to get here on your own,” Trey said with a smirk.
Cocky bastard.
It didn’t take me an hour to get to the table.
Weeks ago?
Yeah, it probably would have.
But I’d healed up well, far surpassing the doctor’s expectations.
“Enjoy your youth, fellas,” I said as Trey held out my chair for me. “We’ll see how you bastards are walking in twenty years.”
