Chapter 18 Asher
ASHER
Iglare sidelong at my lovely baby mama. Gracie can’t help it and giggles behind her pressed lips. We’re sitting inside at a table dressed in pastels with an abundance of food in the middle.
“It’s a serious matter. Your dad’s version of an Easter egg hunt sent us all on a two-mile trek,” I remind her.
“Not exactly two miles. More like the backyard, side yard, and front yard, but sure, we will say two miles.”
My eyes grow bold. “And the speed boat that someone had to rowboat to?”
She is struggling not to give in to hysterical laughter. “Technically, the boat and that part of the lake is part of the backyard, right? Plus, it’s for Drew’s kids.”
Shaking my head, I let it go. From the corner of my eye, I see the plate of matza next to the carrot cake that most definitely is filled with flour and everything that our grandparents would probably disapprove of.
I internally cringe because nobody enjoys dry crackers, even if there is a sentiment behind it.
I’m going to do this purely for tradition before I nosh on the giant piece of carrot cake.
I look around the table filled with family from both Gracie’s and my side. It’s Eastover. Because it is possible to mix Easter and Passover together when the calendar dates align.
“Your brother seems out of it, and I have the feeling he is up to something.” Gracie seems to be reviewing the scene of Tyler and Shaw looking completely wrecked.
Yeah, the team arranged a trade, and Shaw ended up right under my nose on the bench. Not ideal, but I’m making it work.
I shift my gaze across the table and see Tyler about to fall asleep.
A maintenance day for the team is needed.
I rub my face and yawn. “Well, we do have one more week before playoffs. Not exactly low-adrenaline games. He probably just slept in. I barely made this. I have a window of opportunity before our next game, and I’m thankful that our families feel the speed version of the Seder reading is how we roll. ”
“I know, right?” she agrees.
Drew leans over the table to peek around Gracie and join the conversation. “How many years have we been doing this? I still don’t know the story other than I’m about to drink a lot of wine and eat a bizarre radish.”
“Least you get to drink the wine. I’ve resorted to grape juice,” Gracie playfully complains right before she scoops up my hand from under the table and plants my palm against her belly.
This child started behaving last week and finally kicks when I’m around.
“So, how many times has my dad drilled you about a ring?” Drew wonders.
Gracie kicks his leg under the table, and he yelps. It’s banter, the way siblings have.
My lips quirk out as I accept my fate that I’m going to be roasted until this baby comes out and then every day after until the day comes where I present a ring.
“Yeah, when is that happening?” Shaw pipes up from across the table, more to tease me than anything.
I feel Gracie squeeze my hand on her belly because she is slightly tense. She hates when we are put on the spot. We are in no rush.
“My dad has been fine. Completely fine,” Gracie proudly lies.
Hudson Arrows mentions it only about every time I see him. More in a future son-in-law wink kind of way.
“Gotta lock it in, Brother. As the wise man from Fiddler on the Roof would say: tradition.” Why did someone decide to make him Tevye in his eighth-grade drama production? We never hear the end of it.
Drew lets out a deep laugh. “They skipped a step on that one.”
When somebody clears their throat, I’m saved. All of our attention is given to the head of the table where my mom proudly stands, holding up the Seder book.
“Show of hands if we do the hour version with songs?”
The table stays quiet and not a single hand raised.
“And no songs, we use an app, and time this to a new record of forty minutes?”
Everybody raises their hand.
“Thought so.” She smiles then sits down.
“One year when my great-grandmother was alive, it went on for four hours,” Gracie whispers to me.
I lean into her, setting my arm on the back of her chair, and get a waft of her flowery shampoo. “Was a roasted lamb sacrificed for Easter dinner?”
Both of our eyes zip to the serving plate by Hudson. I’m sure he was as overzealous with his cooking as his scavenger-hunt planning.
“We were lucky that year that Easter fell on an earlier date in the month,” she explains.
But then her eyes fixate on the piece of meat.
“It’s a little insensitive. It’s baby lamb season.
That thing on a plate was probably a parent.
I can’t think about it.” Gracie sounds a tad somber, and it isn’t in fun jest.
I also know where this is going.
Surveying the room, I see that everyone is still in their own conversations at the table before we begin. I have a moment.
I offer my hand as I stand. “Come on, let’s get some air.”
She nods in agreement while she stands.
When we walk down the hallways past the laundry room to the side door, she yanks me out, now eager for fresh air on a cloudy day. We nearly tumble into the side yard, but she releases my arm, and I step back, almost tripping on the croquet set that someone forgot to put away.
“I hate this game.” I kick a wire tunnel.
“It involves a stick. Shouldn’t it be like hockey on grass or something?
I wiggle a finger side to side. “No. This is the game for old people who move to Florida when they retire.”
She rolls her eyes before a lightness hangs in the air. Remembering why I suggested we get some air, I step forward and ruefully smile as my finger hooks under her chin to drag her sight back to me.
“The lamb is really getting to you, huh?”
She laughs and cries at the same time. “So silly, I know. It’s just a fluffy baby animal, and when I walked through the baby store, every toy and blanket had a little lamb on it. Hormones are getting to me.”
My hand drops when she wraps her arms around my neck. “We’re just getting closer to welcoming her. There’s a lot going on. I don’t think it’s the lamb that is bothering you at all.” I affectionately hold her eyes.
“No. It’s not.” Her voice softens. “It’s becoming even more real that in a few months we’re going to be parents.”
“I think a lot more is becoming real.” I mean us. Being with her drowns my soul because she’s everything.
I stroke her cheek with the back of my knuckles, and the way our eyes lock feels like a silent agreement of the words we don’t say aloud. There is a glint in her eyes, and the corner of her mouth tugs. “You’re right,” she rasps.
“I also think you miss me a little?” I’m teasing her, but I’m very much serious, too.
It is the faintest of nods, but I see it. “It’s great the Spinners made it to the playoffs and all, mostly due to your leadership. It’s just… it’s hard. We knew it would be this way, barely a moment to breathe and traveling more until you qualify for the next round.”
I smirk to myself and feel a little cocky because I’m positive that we will. But hockey doesn’t matter right now. “Trust me, every moment I can, I think of you.”
“We don’t get many moments lately,” she points out.
“True.”
She quickly grabs my hand and directs it to her belly. “She’s really moving today. I guess she knows that you’re around.” Gracie presses her lips together. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that she’s struggling today.
A poke stomps against my hand, and her warm smile probably matches my own. “I’m very lucky to have you both.” My lips feather her jawline, then I trail my mouth to nip on her lip. My feathery touch is abandoned when I kiss her deeply.
I can’t get enough of her. Family is family, and they will play a big role in our little girl’s life, but right now, I’m going to be selfish.
Struggling to pull away only to magnetize back to her, I manage to break our kiss and frame her face with my hands. “How about you fake that you are too tired, and we go pick up a pizza and head home? I could think of a few things that I would rather do right now.”
She eases and sighs. “Perfect idea.”
“Come on.” I tip my head in the direction of the door.
We begin to walk, but then she pauses and snaps her fingers. “Oh yeah, now I remember that I solved a mystery at the table.”
“What was what?”
Her smile is ear to ear, but it is disconcerting.
“What the hell is going on?” My brows rise, and I wait patiently for an answer.
“I overheard Lainey and Tyler whispering in the kitchen that your brother has totally been eyeing someone he really probably shouldn’t be.”
“Just tell me.” My voice turns a little curt.
She shakes her head side to side, clearly entertained. “So, how good is the relationship going with Declan these days? It’s good, right?” She’s dragging this out.
“Come again?” My neck cranes as I connect the dots.
“You heard me.”
My body begins to boil with tension. “Oh, I did, but allow me a few seconds of denial that my brother might fuck up his career by eyeing the team owner’s daughter.”
Now Gracie just laughs. “You know, our daughter will give you gray hairs when she is older, but right now, it seems your brother is filling that role.”
“I’m going to fucking warn him.”
She reaches out to tug my arm. “Relax. He hasn’t done anything. Give him a reminder, keep it professional as Coach Tate, and look at yourself in the mirror right now because this is really kind of hilarious.”
Shaking my head fervently side to side, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Just get me out of here. I’m supposed to be relaxing you, but I might need to take a raincheck.”
She interlinks our arms to lead us on our way. “Surely, you mean a reversal in positions.” Her sultry voice already relaxes me.
“And this is why I love you.”
“Because of my choice of sex positions?”
I gently nudge into her side. “A solid reason, but I meant it’s your beautiful smile and witty words that have me excited for the future. You keep me grounded in this family of crazy too. It’s a reason that I love you.”
She rests her head on my shoulder. “I love you so much that I just got kicked hard because someone wants to remind me that she will get some of that love. It will be a different kind, but gosh, you have every inch of me.”
Which is exactly why we are going home to lie in bed together.