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Dinner flies by with fits of laughter from the kids while Mom and Dad tell them embarrassing stories about my horrible farming skills. I’ve always had a green thumb, but my luck with animals hadn’t been so great. I loved them, and my parents loved to make me happy. They’d get me anything I asked for.
We had the land. I was an enthusiastic kid, and I took care of the animals.
Now, it seems I might have the same issue with Max. He’s already excused himself from the table and taken Bruce with him to check on the baby chicks.
Em clears the table while I load up the dishes. Dad wipes down the table while Mom puts icing on the two cakes. When she’s finished, she cuts it up and hands out a plate to each of us. Each plate has one slice of the regular cake, and one of the vegan.
“Which is which?” Dad asks.
Mom shakes her head, a smirk on her face. “You have to guess.”
Dad shoots her a weary look but grabs the fork. “Is there poison in this?”
Mom rolls her eyes and tosses a frustrated wave at him. I take a bite of the first slice. “This is so good,” I say between chewing. I can tell by the moistness and the decadent flavor that it’s got egg and dairy in it. But I still have high hopes on the second slice. If anyone can do it, she can.
I take a sip of water to cleanse my palate before biting into the next. My eyes widen. The taste is so close, that the only reason I even know the difference is just by the level of moistness and creaminess. “Fuck, Mom. This is good.”
She reaches over and smacks the back of my head. Em lets out a giggle. “Don’t talk like that here.”
“Sorry,” I laugh, digging into the dessert. “You think it’ll still be good on Monday?” I ask.
“If you keep it in the fridge.”
“Perfect. I’ll let you know what they say. And you’re sure it won’t be too much for you to make for eleven-hundred people?”
She waves her hand. “You forget that we’re empty nesters. It’ll be nothing to make that.”
“And I can drive it down,” Dad offers. “I’ll stay the weekend.”
“I’ll come, too,” Mom says. She hates the drive, but she’d never miss out on someone complimenting her baking skills, so I’m not surprised that she’s offered now.
When we’re finished, I clean up our mess while everyone else piles into the living room for a movie. Max comes back inside, Bruce by his feet and the chick in his hands. I let out a chuckle. “Grams is not going to let you keep that animal in the house.”
He nods eagerly. “She does! And she lets me sleep with her.”
I draw a brow. “Aren’t you worried you’ll squish her? Or she’ll poop in your bed?”
He shakes his head, blond curls falling in his face. “She sleeps in a bassinet, so I won’t roll on her.”
I sigh. “Wow. Grams has really lost her marbles, hasn’t she?”
Max giggles and I follow him into the other room, my heart feeling full for the first time in a long, long time. I’ve missed my babies, and it’s good to be back with them.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Max!Comehelpmewash up these veggies!” I call as I slide into the kitchen from the back door.
My fingers are covered in dirt from pulling veggies for tonight’s dinner from the garden. I glance down at the wedding band I slipped on this morning. I haven’t worn it in a while, but having the kids home from their summer trip left me feeling like a piece of me was still missing. Ian should have been with me when I made the drive up to the farm, but he wasn’t. And even though something is happening between me and Declan, I still yearn to have my family back.
Nausea churns in my stomach. The guilt of loving two men is just too much. That’s why I can’t spend too much time trying to decipher those feelings.
I drop the basket onto the counter by the sink. Max’s video games are still blaring from the living room. He hasn’t moved an inch, despite me calling for his help. Inhaling, I let out a sharp cry. “Maxamillion! Come help me wash these veggies if you want to eat.”
“Momma?” His voice is so close that I whip around to catch him standing in the entrance of the kitchen. My eyes train to the tall figure standing behind him.
Pulse quickening, I struggle to maintain an even breathing pattern. Declan doesn’t know about Max, about my children.Shit, shit, shit.
“Declan,” I say, my voice strained.
