Chapter 21 #2
She chuckles, pulling me into a much-needed, warm hug. “You’ll figure it out, sweetheart. You always do. And for what it’s worth, Scotty’s a good man. Stubborn, but good. Just make sure you’re not expecting him to be the only one doing the bending.”
I cling a little longer than I mean to. “Thanks, Aunt Celeste.”
She squeezes my shoulders and smiles. “I’ll see you tonight at the party.”
By the time I pull into my parents’ drive a little while later, there’s already a string of cars.
Inside, the house is in chaos, which is typical for any Slade event. Brooklyn’s in the kitchen trying to wrangle the dessert trays while Amelia hums happily, filling the coolers with ice.
“Adrienne!” Milly calls from the dining room, waving a dish towel. “Please tell me you brought the extra candles. Ranger forgot.”
“On it,” I call back, dropping my bag on the counter and pulling the small box from my purse. “Also, I’m pretty sure everyone forgot that mom said no open flames near the floral arrangements.”
“Your mom isn’t the one who said that, you did, five times already,” Decker mutters.
Milly grins. “Oh, come on. What’s a party without a little fire hazard?”
Before I can answer, a familiar voice booms from the doorway. “Look what the wind blew in!”
It’s Aiden. I freeze mid-step, then spin just in time to see him stroll in, sun-kissed and grinning like he knows he’s the surprise of the night.
At least there will be one surprise. Because Axel can never keep his mouth shut, of course, he leaked it to our parents that we were planning this party.
Mom quickly shut down anything big, insisting that she only wanted family, and then dad chimed in, making sure not to turn it into some big, fancy event where they serve weird food on trays.
“Are you kidding me?” I squeal, launching myself at him. He catches me easily, lifting me off my feet in a bear hug.
“Miss me, sis?”
“Like hell I did,” I say against his shoulder, laughing as I pull back to swat him. “You liar. You said you weren’t coming.”
“Ended up working out,” he says, winking. “Wouldn’t miss mom and dad’s big night.”
Before I can respond, Mom spots him from across the room and lets out a shriek that could shatter glass before running towards him. “AIDEN SLADE!” She’s already crying, her arms still wrapped tight around Aiden’s neck as if she’s afraid he’ll disappear again.
My dad just stands there smiling, eyes misty, chin quivering.
“You’re too thin,” she scolds, pulling back to pinch his cheek.
“Mom, you say that every time,” he groans. I was home just six months ago.
Dad clears his throat, fighting the emotions I know are clogging his throat. “Glad you made it, son.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” Aiden’s voice softens just enough that I see Mom’s eyes fill all over again.
The next half hour blurs into a rush of laughter and overlapping voices as everyone crowds into the kitchen and living room.
Tyler, Trent, and Decker show up with their wives, the kids are running through the halls like caffeinated tornadoes, and the smell of grilled food and cake hangs thick in the air.
It’s exactly the kind of beautiful chaos our family does best, but it also gives me insane anxiety.
If only they could all be type A like me…
I pause near the counter, scanning the mess. It’s a war zone of half-decorated tables, plates stacked haphazardly, Milly adjusting a flower centerpiece for the tenth time. I take a deep breath and clap my hands once. “Alright, everyone, out!”
Brooklyn freezes mid-bite of frosting she stole from the cake. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” I say, pointing toward the back door. “Out of the kitchen. I’ve still got things to finish before everyone gets here, and Mom wanted us ready for family photos in thirty minutes. So go change, go breathe, go… anywhere but here.”
Amelia snickers into her drink. “And she’s back,” she mutters.
Aiden slings an arm around Axel’s shoulders and grins. “God, she’s still bossy as hell, I see. How have you fared without me, soldier?”
Axel barks out a laugh. “She was born bossy. That’s why she came out of the womb first, she had to tell the doctor had to deliver us.” Both of them nearly double over in laughter, elbowing each other.
“Keep it up,” I warn, hands on my hips, “and I’ll make you both hold the ‘Happy Anniversary’ banner while I iron it again.”
That gets them moving. Aiden mock-salutes me on his way toward the hallway. “Yes, ma’am, Commander Slade.”
Brooklyn and Dolly pass me on their way out, giggling. “You realize this would have been a lot easier for you if you’d never asked us to help, right?” Brooklyn teases.
“Unfortunately, I realized that far too late,” I shot back. “Now move.”
They scatter, laughter following them down the hall, and for a blissful few minutes, I actually have the house to myself.
I take a moment to first straighten all of the tablecloths, relight a few candles, and check the playlist. Every small task helps steady my nerves.
I tell myself I’m just focused on making tonight perfect for Mom and Dad, not that I’m subconsciously stalling, not that my stomach has been in knots ever since I left Celeste’s.
When the last of the thirty framed pictures that tell their love story is aligned and the lights are dimmed to that soft golden glow, I exhale and step back. The house looks beautiful. Cozy and full of love. Exactly like them.
The back door creaks open, and Mom pokes her head in, eyes scanning around the kitchen. “Everything looks perfect, sweetheart.”
“Good,” I say, returning her smile. “Now go fix your hair before the photographer gets here.”
She gasps, reaching up to touch her still perfectly styled hair. “Oh goodness, you’re right, I should.”
“You always look beautiful no matter,” I counter, but she’s already laughing as she disappears down the hallway.
Soon, the house fills up again, only it’s louder this time. Whenever we say it’s a ‘family only’ Slade event, that just means everyone we’ve ever met in town that we feel is like family, on top of our already huge extended family.
The grill’s sizzling outside with a mixture of ribs and steak, per dad’s request. A few of the kids are chasing each other through the yard with Nerf guns, but the majority of them are bouncing the night away inside the giant bounce castle we always bring out for them.
I take a moment to scan the backyard, keeping my eyes open for Scotty.
I haven’t seen him yet, but I know he’s coming; he told me he would.
I spot Dad stealing a kiss from Mom near the cake table, and for a moment, everything slows. It’s like I'm ten again and I’m sneaking out of bed for a snack, frozen in the shadows as I watch dad twirl mom around the living room, her laughter filling the room.
My dad has always been a man of few words, kind of like Scotty in that way…
but one thing he has never had trouble expressing to my mom is how much he adores her, loves her, even worships her.
It’s the kind of love that’s been built over decades and made stronger through every obstacle. The kind of love I want.
I turn to grab a tray of drinks just as Aiden calls for another round of toasts.
“Here, here,” he says, lifting his glass and gently tapping a fork against it.
“I know we’ve already said a few things about mom and dad, about how amazing they are, not only as parents but as friends.
But now, my siblings and I would like to offer another kind of toast.”
“Oh, good god,” my dad says, looping his arm around my mom and leaning back in his chair. “Here we go.”
I’m right behind him, my stomach tightening in anxiety at the next words that might come out of my brother’s mouth.
“The three of us would like to offer,” Axel continues, “our most favorite, embarrassingly romantic story about our dad. I’ll go first.”
My stomach unclenches as he launches into a story about the time my dad traveled all around the state, just trying to find my mom’s favorite, local candy that stopped being made.
I’m swept up in the joy of it all, my parents smiling, my brothers quickly turning the toasts into a family story time that has my cousins laughing until they cry.
It’s perfect. So perfect that I don’t notice the quiet shift on the back deck. I don’t see the truck parked at the edge of the drive or the tall, broad-shouldered figure who’s just joined the party.
When the laughter dies down from Axel’s story, I stand, heart thudding. “My turn,” I say, lifting my glass. The room quiets, faces tipping toward me. Mom is halfway through a box of tissues already.
“My favorite story isn’t the biggest or flashiest. It’s small.” I glance at my parents, launching into a memory about my dad, a memory that showed me how I deserved to be loved someday. “That’s my favorite. No grand gesture, just… choosing each other, and choosing us, over and over.”
There’s a soft chorus of awws, some teasing sniffles from the cousins because Slades can’t handle a single thing with dignity and without jokes.
Mom presses her face into Dad’s shoulder.
He kisses the top of her head, not even pretending he isn’t emotional as tears stream down his wrinkle-lined face.
“To choosing love,” I finish, voice steady now. “Every day.”
The music starts up again, and everyone returns to their conversations. I slide back into the cluster with Brooklyn and Amelia near the dining room archway. We’re shoulder-to-shoulder with cousins, passing bites of cake and debating whether Trent or Tyler cries more at family events.
“Tyler,” Brooklyn declares, deadpan. “I’ve seen him cry when the Broncos lost.”
“Trent,” Amelia counters, smiling. “But only at weddings. He pretends he has flower allergies.”
I laugh with them, but my gaze keeps drifting toward the big back windows that frame the deck.
The porch lights throw creamy halos over the railing, beyond them the yard dipping into blue shadow.
I scan for him, pulse tripping, ready to catch his eye…
but all I see are silhouettes moving in and out of the glow.
A flash of a cowboy hat that isn’t his. A tall shape that turns out to be Decker.
“Earth to Adrienne,” Brooklyn murmurs in my ear, amused.
“I’m listening,” I lie, sipping my drink.
I try to excuse myself, just for a second, just to slip toward the deck, but the conversation folds tighter around me: questions about where the wine opener is, a cousin asking where the spare forks are, Amelia tugging me into a quick selfie with the cake in the background.
I smile for the photo, and when the screen drops, my gaze slides past Amelia’s shoulder, back to the window.
My breath catches. He’s outside by the far corner of the deck, half-turned, a beer dangling from his fingers. Axel’s beside him, saying something animatedly, and Aiden’s on the other side, grinning like a devil. The three of them laugh and carry on, and my stomach dips.
Scotty tips his head, listening. For a heartbeat, he glances toward the house, his eyes flicking toward the window in a flash.
Look at me, I think, uselessly. Just once.
“Adrienne!” Dolly materializes in front of me, cheeks flushed, daughter on her hip like a squirming bow-wrapped football. “Do you know where the extra napkins went? Ranger swears he put them by the fridge, but I think he means ‘near the fridge,’ which could be anywhere from the porch to Wyoming.”
“Pantry, second shelf. Behind the paper cups.”
“You’re a saint.” She leans in, conspiratorial. “Also, you look…” Her gaze narrows, a teasing smile forming. “Suspiciously glowy.”
“Go get your napkins,” I warn, fighting a smile. She winks, pivots, and is swallowed by the crowd.
The moment she turns, I look back through the window. Scotty’s turned slightly away now, the line of his jaw lit by porch glow, his outline cut clean against the dark yard. I swallow, reminding myself that I promised I’d tell him tonight…