Not Quite Forever
Page 74
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Dakota moved the pan of cooking sausage off the flame and hugged her friend. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“We can all ruin Thanksgiving together. Now that’s love.”
They moved through the kitchen at that point, chopping, seasoning . . . and following Aunt Bea’s recipes as if they knew what they were doing.
When everything was cooking, or at least at a standstill, Dakota found her way to the den, where Walt and Trent were watching a football game.
With the silly apron still wrapped around her protruding waist, she sat next to Walt and kicked her feet up on the coffee table.
“It smells good in there.”
“I have no idea if anything will turn out. It’s the blind leading the blind in there.”
Walt pulled her in and kissed her forehead. “I have faith.”
“I’m a writer, not a homemaker.”
A tired writer who wanted a nap and it wasn’t even noon.
Walt ran his hand along her and rested it over her belly. “I’ll take ya anyway.”
She closed her eyes and smiled. “Good thing.”
Sure enough, the butterflies in her belly were becoming more frequent, she felt them now and placed her hand over Walt’s.
“Feel that?” she asked.
He shook his head but kept his palm flat.
The game continued, not that Dakota was paying attention, and then Walt stiffened by her side.
“Oh . . . shit. Did you feel that?”
“What?” Trent asked as he sipped from a beer.
Walt flattened his hand, paused. Their child moved and Walt beamed. “Was that . . . ?”
She nodded. “Looks like Junior is wishing you a happy Thanksgiving.”
Walt sucked in his lower lip, smiled when their baby moved again. “Wow.”
Dakota squeezed his hand. “So here’s the deal, Baby Daddy. I get the first nine months of carrying little Junior, and you get the next. Deal?”
Walt couldn’t look more like a kid with a giant lollypop. “Deal.”
Trent cleared his throat. “Do I need to leave the room?”
Smiling, Walt twisted toward his friend. “I can feel the baby moving.”
Trent’s eyes moved to their joined hands.
Walt waved his friend over. “C’mere.”
Before Dakota knew it, Trent was placing his hand on her stomach and waiting. When he felt it, he jumped. “Holy crap.”
After that Mary and Monica made their way into the den and Dakota’s body was no longer her own.
Somewhere between halftime and turkey time, there was toss the ball time. Walt stood in Trent’s front yard with Glen and Jason, Trent’s oldest brother, and the four of them paired off for a friendly game of football. The temperature outside was just above freezing but that didn’t stop them from pretending to be younger than they were.
Walt passed the ball to Trent and watched as the older brother took out the younger. Another pass around and Walt felt the hard edge of the earth meet his shoulder. If the men didn’t push each other to the ground, Trent’s dogs, Ginger and Gilligan, were all too happy to trip and tackle the players.
Jason and Glen were strutting, up by seven points. But when Walt tackled Glen, some of that strut turned into groans. Walt wasn’t sure what hurt more, tackling or being tackled.
“Next point wins,” Trent offered, rubbing his shoulder.
“I can go with that.” Glen ran a hand over his ass.
“There’s a reason alcohol is a favorite food group during the holidays,” Jason said.
Trent and Walt had possession and made a run for the goal.
Trent hit the ground as Jason made an attempt to capture him before the ball went over the invisible line. They came up grinning with two Irish setters licking their faces.
“It’s actually a tie,” Glen said, helping his brother up to his feet.
“Fine, a tie. Call it what you want. One more knock to the ground and I’m going to need Walt’s services.”
They did the patting on the back thing followed quickly by the guzzling the beer thing.
“So, Walt?” Trent asked. “What are you waiting for?”
Walt swallowed. “What do you mean?”
“With Dakota. Looks like you guys are playing house well together. You’re obviously into her.”
Walt grinned. “You sound like her dad.”
Glen shoved his brother’s shoulder. “Trent wants all his friends to settle now that he’s paired up.”
“Hey, marriage has perks. Something none of you know anything about.”
They enjoyed a good laugh and Walt finished his beer. “We’ve talked about it. She doesn’t want to rush into anything because of the baby.”
“What do you want?” Glen asked.
“We’d already be married if it were up to me.”
“Sounds to me like you have some schmoozing to do, Doc,” Jason said with a smile.
“While the girls are enjoying some retail therapy in the city, I can hook you up with a certain jeweler I know.”
Glen shoved his brother. “Pushy much?”
Trent held up his palm. “Just offering.”
Walt pushed off the porch, turned toward the house. “Never hurts to look.”
Glen shook his head. “Another one bites the dust.”
Trent slapped his hand onto Glen’s back. “I’m not dead, brother.”
They waited until Saturday to invade the shops in Manhattan. After their first successful turkey, and only a slightly disappointing pie disaster, Thanksgiving was one of the best in recent memory.
“We can all ruin Thanksgiving together. Now that’s love.”
They moved through the kitchen at that point, chopping, seasoning . . . and following Aunt Bea’s recipes as if they knew what they were doing.
When everything was cooking, or at least at a standstill, Dakota found her way to the den, where Walt and Trent were watching a football game.
With the silly apron still wrapped around her protruding waist, she sat next to Walt and kicked her feet up on the coffee table.
“It smells good in there.”
“I have no idea if anything will turn out. It’s the blind leading the blind in there.”
Walt pulled her in and kissed her forehead. “I have faith.”
“I’m a writer, not a homemaker.”
A tired writer who wanted a nap and it wasn’t even noon.
Walt ran his hand along her and rested it over her belly. “I’ll take ya anyway.”
She closed her eyes and smiled. “Good thing.”
Sure enough, the butterflies in her belly were becoming more frequent, she felt them now and placed her hand over Walt’s.
“Feel that?” she asked.
He shook his head but kept his palm flat.
The game continued, not that Dakota was paying attention, and then Walt stiffened by her side.
“Oh . . . shit. Did you feel that?”
“What?” Trent asked as he sipped from a beer.
Walt flattened his hand, paused. Their child moved and Walt beamed. “Was that . . . ?”
She nodded. “Looks like Junior is wishing you a happy Thanksgiving.”
Walt sucked in his lower lip, smiled when their baby moved again. “Wow.”
Dakota squeezed his hand. “So here’s the deal, Baby Daddy. I get the first nine months of carrying little Junior, and you get the next. Deal?”
Walt couldn’t look more like a kid with a giant lollypop. “Deal.”
Trent cleared his throat. “Do I need to leave the room?”
Smiling, Walt twisted toward his friend. “I can feel the baby moving.”
Trent’s eyes moved to their joined hands.
Walt waved his friend over. “C’mere.”
Before Dakota knew it, Trent was placing his hand on her stomach and waiting. When he felt it, he jumped. “Holy crap.”
After that Mary and Monica made their way into the den and Dakota’s body was no longer her own.
Somewhere between halftime and turkey time, there was toss the ball time. Walt stood in Trent’s front yard with Glen and Jason, Trent’s oldest brother, and the four of them paired off for a friendly game of football. The temperature outside was just above freezing but that didn’t stop them from pretending to be younger than they were.
Walt passed the ball to Trent and watched as the older brother took out the younger. Another pass around and Walt felt the hard edge of the earth meet his shoulder. If the men didn’t push each other to the ground, Trent’s dogs, Ginger and Gilligan, were all too happy to trip and tackle the players.
Jason and Glen were strutting, up by seven points. But when Walt tackled Glen, some of that strut turned into groans. Walt wasn’t sure what hurt more, tackling or being tackled.
“Next point wins,” Trent offered, rubbing his shoulder.
“I can go with that.” Glen ran a hand over his ass.
“There’s a reason alcohol is a favorite food group during the holidays,” Jason said.
Trent and Walt had possession and made a run for the goal.
Trent hit the ground as Jason made an attempt to capture him before the ball went over the invisible line. They came up grinning with two Irish setters licking their faces.
“It’s actually a tie,” Glen said, helping his brother up to his feet.
“Fine, a tie. Call it what you want. One more knock to the ground and I’m going to need Walt’s services.”
They did the patting on the back thing followed quickly by the guzzling the beer thing.
“So, Walt?” Trent asked. “What are you waiting for?”
Walt swallowed. “What do you mean?”
“With Dakota. Looks like you guys are playing house well together. You’re obviously into her.”
Walt grinned. “You sound like her dad.”
Glen shoved his brother’s shoulder. “Trent wants all his friends to settle now that he’s paired up.”
“Hey, marriage has perks. Something none of you know anything about.”
They enjoyed a good laugh and Walt finished his beer. “We’ve talked about it. She doesn’t want to rush into anything because of the baby.”
“What do you want?” Glen asked.
“We’d already be married if it were up to me.”
“Sounds to me like you have some schmoozing to do, Doc,” Jason said with a smile.
“While the girls are enjoying some retail therapy in the city, I can hook you up with a certain jeweler I know.”
Glen shoved his brother. “Pushy much?”
Trent held up his palm. “Just offering.”
Walt pushed off the porch, turned toward the house. “Never hurts to look.”
Glen shook his head. “Another one bites the dust.”
Trent slapped his hand onto Glen’s back. “I’m not dead, brother.”
They waited until Saturday to invade the shops in Manhattan. After their first successful turkey, and only a slightly disappointing pie disaster, Thanksgiving was one of the best in recent memory.
