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My husband acknowledges her with a polite nod and gently takes my hand, guiding us into the room to sit beside his ma.
For about an hour, the speaker delivers a heartwarming message regarding the act of serving. He touches on the season of the subject, yet eventually, dives further into the benefit for self that can come from doing something for others. His message is lively and colorful. Neon bursts flash in spurts all around the room where they’re met by sparkling hums of agreement and approval and understanding. Feeling and hearing as much asseeingthe lesson regarding the wonderfulness that can ensue from acts of service has me continuously adjusting in my seat. Scooting closer to Slater when the words fit situations we’ve crossed. Leaning into him at certain phrases. Looking up at him in awe during others.
By the time, everything has wrapped up – including post service lemonade and lemon cookies – any lingering animosity over an absent husband for the day has dissipated. We stroll back to our vehicles which are parked on the same row and part ways with words of seeing one another back at their property soon.
Slater opens my door, helps me into his already warming truck, and hustles around to climb inside himself, not wanting to be in the cold longer than he has to. The fact he’s not wearing a coat reminds me of where that particular piece of outerwear currently is, which is where heshould’vebeen, leading me to squeak, “What the hell do you mean kidnappers and Christmas carols?!”
He cringes at the same time he releases his hold on his seatbelt.
“What in the Macaulay Culkin happened at the mall!?”
“Long story.”
“Then shorten it.”
His crystal gaze cuts elsewhere.
“Ideserve– at the very fucking least – the office memo version of events, Cowboy.”
He swings his stare back to mine.
“We’ve got half an hour drive, so spill.”
“But-”
“Oh, I amso not asking.” Buckling myself in wedged between declarations. “I am absolutely one hundred and ten percenttellingyou that you’re gonna tell me.”
His lips press begrudgingly together in surrender.
“Oh, and before we officially begin, I would just like to announce that there will be anactualtext memo regarding a new family policy about hanging up on someone’s wifeespeciallywhen she hasn’t heard from her husband all goddamn day.”
“Kolby hung up on you!?”
“For cookies!”
Slater slowly shakes his head on an annoyed mumbled, “Yeah, that fucking tracks for him.”
“Well, he won’t be getting any more ofmycookies anytime soon.”
“Iknowwhat kinds of cookies you’re talkin’ about vs not talkin’ about andstillfeel the urge to run him over with a reindeer.”
“Aw,” a small giggle bounces around the cab, “that’s morbidly romantic, Cowboy. Almost in a Tim Burton, Edgar Allan Poe lovechild sort of way.”
“What can I say?” He reaches for his seatbelt a second time. “I am as the big guy upstairs made me.”
“Stubborn with a great ass?”
Loud chuckles are paired to him backing out of the parking space. “That too.”
Once we’re on the road about three cars behind Tom, I prod for the information he still hasn’t delivered. “So…”
His hands curl around the steering wheel tighter.
“What exactly happened?”
“First off, I think my little brother is in love.”
“What?!!”
