Billionaire: A First-Time Steamy Romance
Page 12
“Oh you’re such a…” Lance starts. “…comedian,” Leland finishes. They look at each other and laugh.
“See?” Devon says, and we all laugh.
“Rosie became a mother. And she’s going back next year,” Cherry reminds them. “No one quits in this family.”
Sitting in my chair, taking it in, that sense of peace I always get when the family’s all together washes over me once again.
Max, Rose’s husband, comes around the back of the house, still wearing his work clothes. Kristen spots him and shrieks with joy. “Daddy! Daddy!”
He kisses his wife and daughter, greets us all, then announces: ”I’m starving and I sure could use a beer. It was a hot one on the road today.”
“Cooler’s over here, son,” I say.
Cherry’s on her way over to me, holding two loaded plates. “Grab a plate for yourself,” she tells Max.
With a smile, she hands one of the plates to me and takes the seat next to mine.
“Um…you forgetting something?” I hold my plate in my lap and wait, smiling.
“Never,” she says, leaning towards me, that perfect, shy smile turning up the corners of her mouth.
We kiss, and it’s just as good as it ever was, although of course we keep it PG in front of the kids.
“Bon appetit,” she says.
We dig in, and of course the food is delicious, far beyond the usual picnic fare. My sister Lana taught Cherry well, and although Cherry only worked in the diner full-time until Jonathan was born, she never stopped learning.
She can take any damn thing and turn it into gourmet fare.
Her potato salad has layers of flavor and a blend of textures like nothing you can get anywhere else, and her chicken has been marinated in something savory overnight. Now, it’s perfectly grilled to tender, melt-in-your mouth perfection.
No one says a word for a few minutes, too busy enjoying their meal.
Then, “Mmm-mmm!” Kristen says, chicken grease and bits of potato decorating her rosebud mouth, with some even glistening in her red hair. “Nana! Yum-yum!”
“Yeah, Ma, this is good,” Devon agrees.
“Yes, thank-you Mom,” Jon says, setting off a round of thanks.
Cherry nods, smiling. “You’re welcome, guys.” She’s become very gracious and calm over the years, but I can tell she’s pleased that her brood appreciates her so much.
I don’t know if it’s the meal, or…maybe it’s because the kids are about grown, with two already flown the nest and the rest soon to follow.
Or, maybe I’m getting soft in my old age.
I dunno, but something is making me feel a little misty-eyed right now.
What a dream come true my life turned out to be. Sure, money helps. But what really matters is this:
Love and family.
In that most precious area of life, we hit the jackpot.
And all because of that fateful reunion in a blizzard over twenty-five hears ago.
Sometimes, I think about what we’d have missed if I’d been on another call that day…or…if I’d been in the eastbound lanes instead of the westbound lanes…or if Cherry hadn’t tried to phone her interview and rear-ended that guy.
But I don’t let my mind wander there too long, because deep inside I know Fate or God or the Universe or whatever you call it, had a hand in it that day.
Ever since that day, I no longer believe in random chance or coincidence. Everything happens for a reason and I’m looking at them all, right now.
* * *
It’s nine-thirty and although the summer sun has set, the sky is still pretty light to the west.
To the east, though, it’s dark enough for the fireworks to begin.
The city puts on a spectacular show every year, just across the water from our place, on Toronto Island.
And we have private, front row seats, right here in our own backyard.
Canada Day cook-out and fireworks is a mandatory family gathering. Like Christmas, no one is exempt from attending.
And I don’t think anyone wants to be exempt.
I know things could change, someone could move away or have to work or any number of things could happen.
But today, right now, we’re all here. And that’s what counts.
We all get comfy in our seats.
Cherry and I take the covered swing, so we can cuddle while we watch.
Devon and Charles are sitting at the picnic table, getting sparklers ready to hand out. Jon takes a seat with them.
Lance and Leland are sitting on a blanket a few feet in front of their mother and me. Both are cross-legged, both have their hands tucked into their laps, both of their postures and silhouettes are identical.
Max and Rose share a blanket on the grass with Kristen, who looks to be ready for bed. She’s leaning back in daddy’s lap, half asleep. She slept soundly through the fireworks last year, but this year, I have the feeling she’ll manage to stay awake.
One thing for sure…if, when the show starts, it scares her, she has her whole family surrounding her for reassurance.
“You think Kristen will be scared of the fireworks?” Yes. Cherry’s thinking the exact thought as me.
“I was just wondering the same,” I say, putting an arm around her and nuzzling her hair. “But if you think about it, what’s the only thing that scares her?”
“The potty,” Cherry says, laughing.
“Yep,” I agree, grinning. “I think she’ll be fine.”
In a moment, we hear the musical overture, and the first set of fireworks begins, orchestrated to coincide perfectly with the musical score.
Their spectacular, multi-colored lights begin to streak across the sky, creating those magical swirls and bursts and spirals, with their whistling and banging and booming.
Looks like the city’s outdone themselves this year.
After a few minutes, we hear the baby laughing. Cherry pokes me to make sure I see.
Our baby grand-daughter is perched on her daddy’s shoulders now, laughing and clapping, her face tilted rapturously up to the sky.
~.~
Also by Kate Gilead
Her Bestie’s Older Brother (Maple Mills Book One)
The Secret Virgin (Maple Mills Book Two)
Bossed (Maple Mills Book Three)
Don’t Baby Me (Maple Mills Book Four)
Motorhead (Maple Mills Book Five)
Her Dad’s Best Friend (Maple Mills Book Six)
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