“S’good,” he says as he nods his head.
“Bacon pepper jelly.” Ever wraps an arm around my waist and kisses my temple. Evelyn’s eyes soften as she watches. “That, with the crawfish boil sausage, and pepper jack cheese? By far, my favorite po’ boy.”
“My favorite po’ boy is the Dirty Bird,” I offer with a giggle, just as Ever’s mom walks up.
“I think you just like saying Dirty Bird,” he laughs.
“Guilty.” I shrug, feeling no shame.
“Marlo, I may have swiped a cupcake or three off the dessert table, and I’m just blown away. You are so talented, dear,” Sherry says, with a sweet smile.
“Thank you,” I reply, trying my best not to appear stiff and forced. It’s difficult to open up and accept Ever’s mom, knowing all the things that have happened in the past, but I’m trying. For Ever, I’m trying. There are things I’ve asked him to leave in the past, and he’s asked the same of me.
“Have you considered working at Moelle full time? People would come just for the dessert,” she says, looking to Ever for reinforcements.
I shake my head. “Nah, he and Jeb have tried to convince me, but I’m more of a pop-in employee. Baking makes me happy, but nursing makes me whole. I can’t leave one or the other—I need both.”
“How lovely,” Sherry whispers under her breath, her gentle eyes watching both of us intently.
I’ll get there with her, I know I will. It’s just going to take me some time. It’s difficult to forgive her for the pain she’s caused Ever over the years,
“Low, why aren’t you over there, getting in on the baby action?” Jeb asks, as he points his Abita beer in the direction of Alex, Sara, and Celia. All three of them are huddled over a starry-eyed Lily as she holds baby Avery. Her legs dangle and swish off the chair as she shoves a pacifier into the baby’s mouth, none too gently. Avery lets out a yelp. West hovers nearby, tensing as he watches. His hands fist at his sides, ready to scoop up his daughter and run at the slightest inkling of danger.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay, baby,” Lily croons as she rubs the flat of her hand down Avery’s ruffly dress.
The three women sigh.
“Aren’t your ovaries weeping with joy right now?” Jeb asks with a chuckle, and I swing my glare in his direction.
“One point of domestication at a time, Jeb,” I warn.
“Gotta treat her like a wild dog, man. She only just started eating food out of my hand. Don’t scare her off completely,” Ever jokes, and I jab him in the ribs.
He thinks I don’t know about his and my dad’s little talk. He doesn’t realize I saw them standing on the porch for much longer than it takes to talk about the weather. I may be the equivalent of a “wild dog” in relationship-land, but I know “the talk” when I see it. And since neither of them returned with any black eyes or bruises, I assume it went well.
Now, the only question is when. If I know Ever at all, the sexy jerk is going to make me sweat it.
Ever raises a high ball glass and clinks a fork to its side, shooting me a mischievous wink as the crowd turns their attention to him. He hops on top of the bar and peers down at me.
“I’m gonna say a few words.” He raises his eyebrows in challenge and reaches a hand down to me. “You wanna join me?”
I grab his hand and let him heave me up beside him. I wrap an arm around his waist and slap his chest. “I’ll stand here and look pretty, but it’s all yours, big boy.”
He chuckles, and his eyes crinkle as he looks down at me. Is that a look of amusement … or the look of a man getting ready to pop the question? My skin sizzles with awareness and nerves.
I think I might throw up.
“Thank you for joining us today to celebrate family and friends. I have to admit, it’s a little frightening to know that this group, collectively, could annihilate both of us with the secrets you hold. Be kind, people, be kind,” Ever chuckles, then turns his gaze to the back of the bar. “And Jeb, whatever you do, don’t you dare say a word to my mom.”
Jeb motions like he’s zipping his lips, then blows a kiss to Sherry in the same breath. “S’all right if I have a chat with Low’s dad?”
“Nope! No way,” I warn, as everyone erupts in laughter.
When the laughter dies down, Ever squeezes me close to his side and refocuses on our friends.
“But seriously, thank you all for being here today. Mom, Mr. Rivers, Mr. and Mrs. James, thank you for making the trip,” he says, gesturing to our parents.
“Like you could keep us away,” Dad hoots, and a chuckle ripples through the room.
“Wouldn’t dream of keeping you from your daughter, sir,” Ever replies, then presses his lips to the top of my head. “When Marlo and I realized a small caravan would be showing up to visit us this week, I knew I wanted to have a get-together at the restaurant. Having all of you here with us, is perfect, really.”
“Moelle is French for ‘marrow.’ I named this place at a time when I was lost. Jeb, being the easy-going guy he is, just shrugged and went along with it, but I never explained to him the ‘why’ behind it. The reasoning is actually two-fold.” He stops speaking and turns to his mother, giving her a small, sympathetic smile. “When my brother Easton died, the crushing grief marked me in an indelible way. I let the hurt sink deep into my bones. What I didn’t realize, what I couldn’t understand at the time, was while Easton may not be here, he’d always be with me. The memory of Easton, not the pain of losing him, is what lies deep inside me. That’s the marrow of me—the man I am.”
I turn into Ever, curving my face into his chest for the smallest bit of privacy, because this man … God, this man. He’s hurt more than his share and loves twice as hard. I’ve looked at the wooden placard affixed to the outside of the restaurant a thousand times, and never understood how much it means to him. How much of his heart he’d laid bare for the world to see.
“So when I moved to Providence, searching for the girl who’d burrowed herself so deep inside of me that eight years felt like a blink of the eye, I couldn’t think of a more fitting name. It represents the love I have for both my brother and Low. It honors what I’ve lost while embracing the incredible future I see ahead of us. Thanks to all of you for being here today to celebrate with us.”
“Babe, what are we celebrating?” I prompt, nudging him in the ribs, trying to quell the hopeful feeling brewing inside me. Is this the moment? Will there ever be a more perfect time than now?
When I see the smirk pulling at his lips, the taunting amusement in his eyes, I’m sure the answer is no. Hell. No.
I’m gonna strangle this bastard before he gets the chance to pop the question.
“We’re celebrating family,” he says with a gentle peck on my lips, then turns back to the crowd. “To family!”
“To family,” they call out with a raucous cheer, and they all drink while I “accidentally” grind my boot heel into Ever’s big toe.
“Ouch!”
“Oops,” I say demurely, batting my eyelashes and shrugging.
Ever
“I HAVE TO say, that’s the most bizarre bouquet I’ve ever seen.” I chuckle and eye the spray of pixie sticks sitting on Marlo’s lap. I shift the car into park and turn off the ignition, focusing all my attention on the gorgeous woman sitting beside me.
She fingers the blue bow holding the candy together and smiles. “Don’t you mean the most amazing bouquet? It’s important to always honor people’s candy preference, Ever. For your future reference, mine is—”
“Pop Rocks. You think I don’t know your favorite candy?” I scoff, grabbing her knee and squeezing until she squeals.
“It’s an explosion in your mouth. Who doesn’t love that?” she giggles.
“That right there,” I say, smashing my lips to hers before turning away and opening the car door. “It says a lot about you.”
“Touché. Just like your favorite candy being Milk Duds says a lot about you.” She shrugs when I grip my c
hest from the blow of her fatal words. “I didn’t tell you to pick such an awful candy.”
“I’ll remember that when I see your grubby fingers creeping into my box.”
She smiles and looks down at the bouquet in her lap. The laughter between us dies and her eyes soften. “Pixie sticks … Easton had it right.”
I nod slowly and press my lips together. “That statement is truer than you will ever know. Ready?”
She climbs out of the car and meets me in front, clasping my hand and squeezing. I tug her forward, listening to the faint sound of birds chirping in the distance and the crushing of gravel under our feet. I focus on the sweet pressure of her hand in mine and the feel of a velvet box pulling against the pocket of my jeans.
Marlo’s hints about getting engaged are getting a bit scary. Hell, I can’t really call them hints—more like blatant threats on my life and manhood. If I don’t get down on one knee, and soon, she may make good on that promise to have me singing like a choir boy. I shift uncomfortably at the mere thought of it.
But I couldn’t ask her to marry me without taking her to see Easton. I just couldn’t do it.
Who the hell proposes to his girlfriend at the cemetery?
A man who’s lost more than he should have and wants to savor all that’s left.
Easton Christopher Montgomery
January 15, 1990 - November 1, 2007
Loving Brother and Son
I brush off the stray pine needles and run a thumb over his name. When I step back, Marlo leans forward and balances the candy on top of the tombstone. She moves next to me, curling into my side and snaking an arm around my waist. I run a hand down her hair and press my lips to her forehead. Everything about this day is bittersweet. The feeling of overwhelming joy and intense longing war within me.
“Easton.” The words are barely a breath. I clear my throat, and make the conscious decision to choose overwhelming joy. It’s what he’d want for me … for us. “I’d like you to meet Low.”
Lifting up on her toes, she presses her lips to my temple. She lets me go and rests her head in the crook of my neck.
“Easton,” she whispers, then sighs, melting into my side. “It’s great to finally meet you.”
In this moment, two battered souls searching for happiness is enough. It’s every single thing.
There’s only one thing left to do, so I step away from her embrace and drop to one knee.
And the look of adoration and simmering fire in her eyes says more than any words ever could.
Every. Single. Thing.
J.A. DEROUEN RESIDES IN South Louisiana with her husband, son (aptly nicknamed “The Professor”), and her furry friend, Scout. She has earned bachelor’s degrees in psychology and nursing. When she’s not writing or inhaling romance novels by the stack, she works as a women’s health nurse. She’s been an avid reader and daydreamer since childhood, and she’s never stopped turning the page to get to the next happily ever after.
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Ever Over After (The Over Duet #2) Page 18