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“But you make themsomuch better.”
Hunter sighs and closes the fridge, standing straight to look at our son. He opens his mouth to say something, but his eyes snag on the shirt. “What are you wearing?”
Preston straightens, but Hunter looks over at me, standing in the corner of the room. “You’re—”
I nod, biting my bottom lip. “I’m pregnant.”
He runs over to me, pulling me in and planting his mouth on mine. My arms tighten around him, and I never want to let go.
When he pulls away, there are tears in his eyes. “We’re having a baby?”
“You’re already such a great dad to Preston. This wasn’t planned, but… I’m happy. Are you happy?”
“Beyond,” he says and kisses me again.
Preston clears his throat, still sitting at the island. “Can I take off this stupid ‘I’m a big brother’ shirt now?”
∞∞∞
Dear reader. Want to come to Everly and Hunter’s New Year’s Eve wedding? You are officially invited. Read all about it inToasted, available 12/15. In the meantime, laugh out loud with the grumpiest Tiding sibling, Edel, inFudge Off.Happy holidays and happy reading! Xoxo, Elsie
∞∞∞
Toasted, Chapter One Emmett
As far as weddings go, this is one hell of a party. It sets the perfect tone for New Years Eve. Hunter sure has had an effect on my sister, Everly. It’s not stuffy, and there’s a healthy balance of people dancing and jumping in the middle of the floor, and those that like to hang out near the outer edges, chatting and snacking on the food laid out on the tables.
I’m part of the latter group, which isn’t unusual, especially these days. Though I suppose I’m not really here as a guest. I flip the chicken breast skewers on the grill top, hearing the satisfying sizzle as the moisture hits the element. I smile at my videographer, Derrick, who is busy focusing the camera down at my hands.
But as my eyes flick across the room, there’s only one thing on my mind. And surprisingly, it isn’t just how much my followers are going to love this footage. Instead my thoughts are on Selena, who seems to be the only person in Findlay who isn’t here.
I pick up my cup half-filled with some sort of cocktail and raise it to my lips, sipping slowly on the carbonated, fruity alcohol without taking my eyes off the crowd. Nope. She’s definitely not here. I’d know if she was here, I’d sense it.
I feel a hand on my arm, and I nearly jump out of my skin. I turn to see Everly, my older sister, staring up at me with a huge grin on her face. Over the music she shouts, “what do you think?”
“It’s great,” I mouth in response.
And it is. I’ve never seen the farm house so glamorous. Crystals hang from the ceiling, and little lights dance across the walls. Everything seems to either have a gold or silver hue to it, apart from the brown rustic furniture. Usually I’m not incredibly picky about the space I’m partying in, but even I can appreciate great decorating.
“I’m just so glad you could make it in time,” she tells me, gripping my arm harder. “My wedding wouldn’t be the same without my little brother.”
I just smile in response. I’m back in my hometown for just three months, then I’ll be off again. My new tour is already in-the-works, as I’m planning on driving across the country while living out of a van. Seeing the sights, touring the country, and generally living a free and care-free life all to the delight of my more than a million subscribers.
I’m lucky, right? I mean, what else could a guy want?
I bite my tongue from asking about Selena. Everly stands on her toes to peck my cheek, then waves to Derrick and steps away to mingle with her guests. The train of her white dress billows around herself as she narrowly escapes bumping into a table.
I use my towel to dab at the sweat beading at my brow, and turn down the heat on the grill. The skewers are nearly finished and ready to be added to the pile. I can barely keep my eyes on the task, however, as I keep looking up and around, searching for one of the many reasons I decided to come back for a while.
“Can we get some more close-ups?” Derrick shouts, suddenly appearing by my side. He’s a hippie sort of dude with long blonde hair that is rarely tied back and out of his face. We might have looked alike, however I always try to keep my hair as short as possible without looking like I’ve joined the military. After all, it’s more sanitary for cooking.
“Yeah,” I say, and try to return to the task at hand. I pause briefly to set down my tongs and push up my gray sleeves that had started to fall down my arms. I wipe my hands on the silver apron tied around my waist, then grab the tongs once again.
As slow as I can, I move the skewers from the grill and onto a plate. Derrick follows every movement with his camera, pushing the lens closer and closer to get the perfect shot.
“Oh. My. God,” I hear someone say over the music. “You really are Emmett Tiding! I thought I recognized you during the ceremony.”
I glance up, my eyes wide. A girl, perhaps in her twenties, comes over and braces one hand against the wall while batting her long, dark eyelashes. I don’t recognize her, but even people in my hometown tend to be star struck from time to time. She tucks a few strands of black hair behind her ear.
