Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
“Son, when two people love each other—” he starts, but Mom tosses a dishtowel at him, and all three of us are rolling with laughter.
“That ship has sailed, I’m afraid.” I wink at him.
“Boys.” Mom shakes her head, but there is a smile full of love and happiness tilting her lips. “I’m outnumbered by boys.”
They wanted more kids, but it just wasn’t in the cards for them. I never asked specifically why, and maybe one day I will. I know I was raised with so much love that I shared it with my best friends. Forrest was really the only one who had shit parents, but all four of the guys soaked up every ounce like a sponge.
Like I said, this is home.
“You love us and you know it.” I round the counter and place a kiss on her cheek.
“Oh, I do, but you’re going to need to find a nice woman to settle down with so I’m no longer outnumbered. Then I need a granddaughter, and yeah, the tables will turn.” She gives me a bright smile, and all I can do is shake my head.
It’s not that I don’t want to settle down. I’m just not in a hurry to do it either. Although, I will admit that from watching Roman and Emerson, it’s a little easier to see myself in that role. I always assumed I’d be a husband and a father. I had a perfect role model, at least in my eyes. I’ve yet to meet someone I can’t live without.
“What are we having?”
“I made cheesy chicken and rice because Dad’s been craving it and cupcakes for dessert. If I can keep this one”—she nods toward my dad—“out of the batter.”
“Can’t help it. You’re cooking is addictive.”
“He’s not wrong,” I say, grabbing my own spoon out of the drawer and dragging it through the batter in the bowl.
Mom shakes her head, the smile never leaving her face. “How was the wedding?”
“Good.” I nod. “Rome’s happier than I’ve ever seen him.”
“Did you tell them we’re sorry we couldn’t make it? We had plans for dinner with Sara and John for months for their anniversary.”
“I told them. They understood. It was a very small gathering.” Reaching into my pocket, I grab my phone and pull up the few pictures I took of the happy couple.
“She looks beautiful, and Rome, that smile.” Mom places her hand over her heart.
“Yeah.” I chuckle. “He’s smitten.”
“As he should be.” Dad stands and presses his lips to Mom’s temple.
“And when is the baby due again?” Mom asks.
“Early spring, I think. March sometime.” I try to think back, and I realize I don’t know her exact due date. They mentioned it in the ER that night, but I was a little busy trying to make sure Forrest didn’t strangle Roman.
“I’ll be sure to get them a good gift.”
“That’s not necessary, but I’m sure they’ll appreciate it. You know how Forrest and Emerson’s parents are.”
“Yeah.” I can hear the sadness in my mom’s voice. She wanted more kids, but it never worked out, and the Huntleys had two they neglected. This world is messed up and complicated, and sometimes, it’s really hard for it to make sense.
“How’s the shop?” Dad asks.
We fall into an easy conversation about work. I’m once again reminded of how incredible my parents are. When I told them that the guys and I wanted to open our own tattoo studio, they asked what they could do to help. I’ve never not had their unwavering support.
We catch up through lunch, and once the kitchen is cleaned up and we’ve all had one of Mom’s mouth-watering cupcakes, I break the ice for the reason for today’s visit.
“What did they send me?” I ask my parents as we settle in the living room.
“We didn’t open it,” Mom replies. “It’s in your name.”
“I told you that you could,” I remind her.
“Not my place.” She stands and moves toward the small desk in the corner of the living room, bringing back a white envelope. “Here.”
“Thanks. Any idea what it might be?”
“No idea. She left a letter for me and your father as well.”
“And?” I prompt her.
She shrugs. “She has regrets, just as I knew she would. She didn’t come right out and apologize, but basically said, it’s at the end of one's life that they understand their shortcomings, and pushing me away—” She glances over at my dad. “—pushing us away, and by association you, was one of hers.”
Dad places his arm around Mom’s shoulder and pulls her closer. “We suspect that whatever is in your envelope is much of the same.”
I nod, tossing the envelope on the couch next to me. “I don’t need to read it. She made her choice.”
“Legend.” There is a quiver in Mom’s voice, and that’s all it takes for me to reach for the envelope again.