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“No.” Evan took care to position the flutes just so on the tray, then looked up. “But he’s still finding that balance, and until he does…”
“You don’t want to rock the boat,” Spence finished.
Evan tried to read Spence’s expression, but as usual, the man was as emotive as a block of granite. “Yeah.”
Spence nodded. “Okay.”
Evan blinked. “Okay?”
“He won’t hear it from me.” Spence jerked his head at the tray. “You want me to carry that?”
“No, I’ve got it.” Evan lifted it. “Thanks, Spence.”
“You’re welcome,” Spence said and pushed the kitchen door open. “Tuck!”
“What?” came the shouted reply.
“I’m fucking hungry,” Spence announced, and let the door swing shut behind Evan. “Go make the damn waffles so we can eat.”
Tuck made the damn waffles,and they ate. Conversation flowed freely, with Jude’s call up to the NHL and the upcoming holidays dominating the discussion. Spence was grilled on his mother’s Las Vegas wedding plans, then thoroughly chastised when it was discovered he knew nothing about it.
“It’s in Vegas on New Year’s Eve, I’m giving her away, I have to wear a fucking suit,” he told them with a scowl, mopping his plate with the last waffle. “That’s all I know, and that’s all I need to know.”
“You’re such a sentimental fool, Spence,” Tuck drawled.
“Eat my ass,” Spence shot back.
Esme rolled her eyes. “Don’t start, you two.”
“I’m not starting anything,” Tuck protested innocently.
“You can sell that story to someone who doesn’t know any better,” she told him.
“Is she happy?” Colin asked, and had every eye turning towards him.
“Yeah,” Spence said slowly, some of thefuck youleaving his expression. “Damned if I can figure it out—I mean, he’s a fucking farmer, for sweet Christ’s sake—but she’s really happy.”
“Well, then.” Colin lifted his glass in a toast. “To Heather and Steve. May they live a long and happy life together.”
Beside him, Evan raised his glass. “And may she make Spence shave off his lip caterpillar for the wedding.”
“Blow me,” Spence said, then he sighed and raised his glass. “Hell with it. To Heather and Steve.”
“Heather and Steve,” Tuck and Esme echoed.
“Are they registered anywhere?” Colin wanted to know.
“Registered?”
“For wedding gifts,” Colin clarified.
“What the fuck do they need to register for?” Spence wanted to know. “He’s sixty-two, she’s fifty-seven. They already have dishes and towels and shit.”
“It’s still a wedding,” Esme pointed out, her pretty face beaming innocence while her husband grinned beside her. “They might not need the basics, but we should still get them something.”
She turned to Tuck. “Maybe something like those silver candlesticks we got for our wedding.”
“Sure,” Tuck said agreeably, and eyes dancing, turned to Spence. “What do you think, Spencer? Would your mom like a pair of silver candlesticks for a wedding gift?”
