“Oh! This place is cool,” I say.
Wade and I walk into The Gold Room, a bar and restaurant owned by Shaye’s friend Nate. Apparently, Shaye worked here for a time in her life and still comes in to help—much to Oliver’s chagrin. But Shaye does what Shaye wants, and Oliver has to deal with it.
“Hey, you guys!” Jaxi waves at the tables the family has placed together to seat us all.
The family. My family.
I wave at her, then Blaire, and then toss Bellamy a smile. Kel is cuddled up to her, sleeping like the little love bug he is.
Wade wraps an arm around my waist and guides me to two seats near the end. Siggy and Larissa are chatting away about jewelry as Wade and I sit. He takes the chair next to Oliver to save me from listening to business chatter.
“This is fun,” I say, shrugging off my jacket. “I’ve never been here before.”
Siggy beams. “Me neither. But if all of you kids can agree on a bar for a Friday lunch the first Friday of the month—I’m in.”
We all laugh.
Hollis walks in and sits across from me and next to Larissa. He nods at Wade and then smiles at me.
“How are you?” I ask him.
“Good. Had a lyric that was driving me crazy for the past two nights, but I think I’ve got it today. Just sent it to Coy to see if it works.”
“Where’s Coy?” I ask.
“Nashville. I think he’s coming home tomorrow. Is that right, Bells?”
Bellamy shrugs. “I’ve discovered that handling two Mason men is more difficult than I expected.”
Everyone chuckles.
“Imagine having six of them—five little ones and then a big pain in the butt,” Siggy tells her.
“If we have another and it’s a boy, I’m done.” Bellamy laughs. “The testosterone is already killing me.”
A server comes up to our table. “Can I get you guys anything to drink?”
I order a water and Wade a tea. Hollis orders a beer.
“We set a date,” I tell the table.
This immediately gets Siggy’s interest.
“You did? When, sweetheart?” she asks.
I completely love Siggy Mason. To say she was over the moon when we told her that I was pregnant is the biggest understatement in the universe. But it’s also been the moments that I’ve had with her on my own that make me adore her the way that I do.
Nothing will ever replace the relationship that I had with my mom, and I miss her every day and hate that she won’t get to meet her grandchild—the first of many, according to Wade. But Siggy has wiggled her way into my heart and welcomed me unconditionally, and I doubt she knows how much that has been a precious balm to my soul.
As for Rosie? Still working on that little monkey. I’m not sure she’s ever going to approve of the woman who stole her man.
I just look at Wade and smile. He nods, encouraging me to go ahead and share our news.
“Monday,” I say, laughing.
Siggy’s face drops. “Monday? This Monday? How are you getting married this Monday?”
“Mother, relax,” Wade says, holding a hand toward her. “We’re going to go to the Justice of the—”
“At least have them come to my house,” Siggy says.
Wade rubs his temples.
“If that would make you happy, then that’s fine with us,” I say, elbowing Wade in the side. “I don’t want to get married when I’m huge and miserable. And there’s really no point in throwing a huge wedding when we have everything we need, and we already live together.”
“And you’re building a big-ass house,” Hollis says, plucking the lemon slice off the side of Larissa’s tea.
At the mention of the house, I swoon and grab Wade’s hand.
The house Wade designed for us is absolute perfection. It’ll be situated on the back corner of the Bartholomew Gardens—a name that I can’t part with—with unencumbered views of the greenery.
I lean over and kiss Wade’s cheek.
“Yes, we are building a big-ass house,” Wade says, resting our entwined hands on his thigh.
“Oh,” Siggy says. “Why not get married at the Gardens?”
“Because Blaire did that,” I say. “She should be able to keep that as her personal memory.”
Blaire smiles warmly. “You know I wouldn’t care. Heck, you own it now.”
“I still think it’s more precious if you’re the only one.”
“Thank you, Dara.”
“Of course.”
The family chatters away about different things, from business deals on one end with Holt and Oliver, to Rosie’s latest antics from Jaxi and Boone. Bellamy rocks the baby while Blaire plays with Kelvin’s toes. Wade joins Oliver and Holt’s conversation here and there—mostly to correct things they’ve said, which makes me giggle.
The server returns with everyone’s drink but Hollis’s. She cringes.
“I’m sorry. I need to get one out of the cooler in the back. I’ll be back with it in a second,” she says.
“It’s fine,” he says. “Thank you.” Then he looks at Wade. “Do you golf?”
“Me?” Wade asks, running our hands up and down his thigh. “Not really. I mean, I can, but …”
“He sucks!” Boone yells from the other end of the table.
Wade rolls his eyes. “I do not suck. Why do you ask?”
“Well, I’m in a golf tournament this weekend, and I thought maybe you’d like to go with me.”
Wade seems surprised at the question. “Well, I can. If you need me to.”
“I don’t need you to,” Hollis says. “I just thought it might be fun to get outside and swing some clubs.”
“Go,” I whisper.
Wade is still quite a private person. We both like our solitude when we’re peopled out. We love the quiet, but now, our quiet doesn’t equate to loneliness. For either of us.
He has made more of an effort to be with his brothers, particularly when we spend time as couples. He doesn’t seek out their company, so nothing has really changed there. But he doesn’t spurn their requests for his time as he did when I first met him.
Except for Boone. He still finds excuses most of the time when Boone wants to go on what Boone calls adventures.
Wade doesn’t fill every weekend hour with work now either. That’s perhaps the biggest shock. I’ve yet to get him to be late for anything, but I’ve let that go. You can’t win them all.
According to Boone, Wade has loosened the stick up his ass since he met me. His words, not mine.
Wade nods. He stiffens and forces a tight smile. “All right. Let me know when and I’ll go. Sounds … fun.”
Only Wade can make the word fun sound like torture. But, hey—he’s going. And I think we’ll all take that as progress.
Hollis laughs. He turns to the server with his beer when his hand hits the table so hard that everyone looks his way.
The woman who stands beside him holding the bottle isn’t the same server as before.
This girl, a few years younger than Hollis by all accounts, has brown curly hair. She, too, looks like she’s seen a ghost.
Hollis opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.
She takes a step backward, her brows pulled together.
A half-laugh escapes her throat as she points the bottle toward Hollis.