Chapter 31 Celine
Celine
“Oh my goodness, I’m so thrilled you’re here!” Suzie pulled me into a warm hug. “And thank you for coming,” she said to my kids as she released me. “The boys are out back getting into trouble.”
Ellie and Maggie greeted her, then wandered toward the back door.
Julian, on the other hand, stayed tucked into my side.
We’d been in Josh’s house several times, but never when it was filled with noise and people and delicious smells like it was today.
Josh had insisted we come over, saying his family “forced” him into Sunday dinners a couple times a month, but I was already having second thoughts.
The kitchen, which seemed so vast the first time I saw it, was crowded. Mel gave me a wave as she slid a pan into the oven. Gabe was standing in the corner in a suit, his head down, texting furiously.
“Hi.” Josh shuffled up to me with a dishtowel slung over his shoulder. He was dressed in a blue polo shirt, a style I’d never seen on him, and he looked particularly delicious.
“Did you dress up for me?” I asked, tugging on his collar.
He smirked. “My mom trained me well. Julian,” he said, focusing on my son. “Do you want some apple cider?”
The two of them took off toward the fridge, leaving me on my own to marvel at the chopping, talking, and cooking that was going on all around me.
The house smelled of roast chicken and fresh bread, and the windows were cracked, letting in the chilly fall air.
Mel held up a wine bottle from across the island and raised her eyebrows at me.
I shook my head. “No thanks.”
“I brought a deck of cards,” Ed said, grinning at Julian. “Care to challenge me in go fish?”
“Can we play here so I can see my mom?” Julian asked.
“Sure thing, kiddo.” With an easy nod, Ed dealt the cards, using one corner of the crowded island.
I’d never witnessed a family gathering like this. One where no one was performing and no one was being tested. And for the first time, I understood why people did this willingly.
The farmhouse table was large, and Josh and Gabe had added a leaf, but elbows still bumped as plates were passed a round.
I sat between Maggie and Julian, who had begged Josh to sit on his other side. Ellie sat across from us, talking to Mel about baking.
Typically, loud, crowded situations like this put me on edge, yet with them, I didn’t feel like I needed to brace myself.
I hunched over, bringing my mouth close to Julian’s ear. “Do you need your headphones?”
He shook his head, digging into his artfully arranged plate of cucumber slices, strawberries, his preferred brand of crackers, and four cubes of orange cheddar cheese. Foods he’d eat without negotiation or overwhelm.
“Josh remembered,” he said, shoving a cucumber into his mouth.
“I can see that.” My heart expanded as I noted how content he was.
But then my mind quickly betrayed me, dragging me back to Phyllis’s house without my permission.
Thanksgiving with Donny’s family had been painful.
The long table, the china, the scrutiny and expectation that Julian would behave, which in her mind meant that he’d sit still and eat whatever he was served.
That he wouldn’t fidget. That he wouldn’t be himself.
The way she’d snapped at me for daring to bring along food for him.
She’d cackled, insisting that he’d eat when he was “hungry enough.” As if starving a neurodiverse child was somehow a crack parenting strategy.
Julian leaned closer to Josh, holding up a ripe strawberry. “These are my favorite.”
With a simple nod, Josh said, “I know.”
He didn’t say “I remembered” or “I guessed.” No. He knew.
Warmth and affection rushed through me as I watched the two of them.
Gabe sat at the head of the table, as if by accident and tradition at the same time, fielding questions and answering emails while trying to eat.
“How many crises have you solved today, Mr. Mayor?” Suzie asked.
Shoulders lowering, he sighed. “Define crisis.”
Nate, his younger brother, who I’d learned co-owned a brewery on the outskirts of town, joined in. “She means how many times have you been cornered in the grocery store and forced to listen to complaints about parking spaces?”
“Or tree trimming ordinances,” Mel added.
“Three,” he groused. “I didn’t even make it to the frozen food aisle before I’d had enough and checked out, and I really wanted to pick up a few of those frozen acai bowls I like to eat for breakfast.”
“Then you saved a cat, right?” Jenn teased. “And finished off the day by balancing the budget and fixing the broken stop light?”
“You’ll have to excuse my oldest son,” Suzie said to me. “He skipped childhood and went straight to responsibility.”
“It’s just the job,” Gabe muttered, stabbing a roasted potato with his fork. “And you don’t get to make fun of me.” He pointed the utensil at his brother. “Not all of us get to sit around making beer all day.”
“It’s a valuable public service,” Nate quipped.
Ed cleared his throat. “You didn’t have to run for mayor.”
Gabe huffed. “You raised me to be like this.”
“We warned you.” Ed chuckled. “You didn’t listen.”
Laughter ripped across the table, easy and warm.
The kind that didn’t require checking the room first to make sure it was safe.
This was so different from what I was used to.
After Mom died, we never had family dinner, and Phyllis made every family gathering miserable with her demands and constant judgment.
It felt like I’d wandered into the wrong house and been offered a seat and a plate anyway.
Midway through the meal, Josh cleared his throat. He was different today. His movements were unhurried, practiced. He listened and asked questions and teased his sister and his cousins.
“I’d like to um, propose a toast,” he said, raising his glass.
Everyone followed suit, Julian even holding up his mostly empty cup of cider.
“At Sunday dinners, we raise a glass to my parents. James and Louise. Dad used to say that Sundays were for football and Mom said that they were actually for feeding people.” He swallowed heavily. “I miss them both so much. But I know they’d be happy to see us gathered around their table today.”
My heart swelled as we all clinked glasses. My kids were so comfortable here. Maggie was siphoning as much of Suzie’s horse knowledge as her little brain could handle while Julian chatted with Josh.
Ellie was quiet as usual, though when Gabe mentioned Lover’s Leap Park, she perked right up.
“I’ve got the zoning board screaming at me to expand the parking lot. And a whole group of people threatening revolt if we don’t replace the metal slides.”
“That park is pointless,” my oldest daughter said, meeting Gabe’s eye.
The table quieted.
“Ellie,” I said gently, my stomach sinking.
“No. Listen.” She put her fork down and sat straighter. “It’s not close to the elementary school and the playground is outdated and not handicap assessable.”
Gabe leaned forward, his eyes bright with curiosity.
“But it’s within walking distance of the junior high and high schools. Don’t add more parking. Older kids need outdoor space too.”
He hummed. “What would you suggest?”
“Get rid of the old dangerous playground, add another basketball court closer to main street. Add lights. Benches. Maybe one of those outdoor fitness courses.”
“It’s true.” He nodded, his lips turned down like he was impressed. “Little kids have lots of options, and the park is an eyesore.”
“Exactly. Maybe put in a skate ramp, or just a walking trail. It could be awesome. Bigger kids need safe community spaces too.”
The confidence in her tone filled me with pride.
And my chest tightened as I realized every person at the table was listening to her. They were showing her respect. No one was minimizing her or brushing her off.
A warm hand squeezed my shoulder, Josh’s steady presence only settling me further.
Nate rubbed his hands together, his lips kicked up on one side. “You’re pretty smart, kid. And my brother the mayor is outsourcing to a child.”
“I’m thirteen,” she said, her voice dripping with teen condescension.
“My apologies,” Nate muttered into his chicken, his eyes widening.
Gabe laughed. “You’ve got good ideas. I’m hiring you.”
“Absolutely not,” I said. “She’s in seventh grade.”
“I can work remote,” Ellie quipped.
The entire table burst into laughter.
Dessert consisted of three types of pie for the crowd and a popsicle for Julian, who had eaten all his dinner and had even tried a few bites of green beans. As I shoveled a chunk of apple pie into my mouth, Josh tapped my shoulder subtly and lifted a brow, silently checking in.
I responded with a smile. For the first time in years, being involved in a family gathering didn’t make me tense. It made me feel alive. I was stuffed and warm and more relaxed than I’d ever felt in a crowd of people.
The adults cleaned up while the kids sprawled out on the couches watching a movie and Julian played go fish with Ed.
“Hey.” Josh cupped my elbow and pulled me toward the back hall before Suzie and Mel, who were debating about who was going to brine the turkey for Thanksgiving, noticed.
He guided me into the laundry room and shut the door.
“You okay?” he asked. “Was that too much?”
I shook my head, my cheeks warming. “It was really nice. Thank you.”
He tipped my chin up and gave me a light kiss.
“Sorry.” He gave me a sheepish smile. “Been waiting all day to do that.”
With my hands on his cheeks, I pulled his face down to meet mine and really kissed him. When he groaned, I snaked my arms around his neck and tugged at his hair.
Kissing Josh was a gateway drug. And soon I was lightheaded and achy. Desperate to feel his skin against mine.
“We should probably get out there,” he said gently, grasping my hips and putting a little space between us.
I closed my eyes, my face flaming. “Sorry. I got carried away.”
He kissed the top of my head. “Matchstick, I don’t mind.”
“Later,” I said firmly, my brain still short circuiting.
He raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”
With a grin, I palmed his hard cock, giving it a squeeze. “I’m sure.”