Page 8 of Sunny Skies Ahead
I blinked twice as I watched Kameron stride confidently over to the navy blue cabinet that held the plates and glasses. As he pulled down a stack of plates to set the table, I was reminded once again that Kameron, Connor, and Lucas had somehow embedded themselves in our lives. Abbie and I already had a history with Connor, having spent all of high school with him, but Kameron and Lucas fit in our lives just as well.
The five of us all had our individual struggles we were working through, but we also got to experience things that most kids our age might not ever get to do. The military had a way of making kids grow up early. The unique demands andtrials of military life extended not just to service members, but to their families as well.
I drained the spaghetti and returned the noodles to the pot, adding a dash of olive oil to keep them from sticking together. I grabbed some spoons and tongs for the pasta, and pulled the parmesan cheese out of the fridge. Growing up with siblings, I learned early on to keep the pasta and toppings separate. Even at this dinner table, with only adults, there were still some picky eaters with strong opinions.
I grabbed some glasses and filled a pitcher of water, walking over to the dining room table to help Kameron finish setting up. A few moments later, the doorbell rang, signaling the rest of our group’s arrival.
“I’ll get it,” Kameron said, striding towards the front door. He barely made it three steps before Lucas was stomping past him.
“Next time, you’re picking me up,” Lucas said, stalking straight for the fridge. “I amnotcarpooling with them again. I’m sick of it.Sickof it, do you hear me?”
“Of what?”
“Oflove.”
I couldn’t stop the snort that escaped me, and I quickly clasped a hand over my mouth to keep some semblance of composure.
“I hate to say it, but I think we’re the outcasts here,” I said. “With our damaged hearts and all.”
“Damaged hearts club forever,” Lucas said, extending a fist for me to knuckle bump him. I did so, rolling my eyes. I wasn’tsure the damaged hearts club was something to be proud of, but I was grateful to have found such a loyal friend in Lucas.
Sometimes I felt like I should talk to someone about everything that happened. I’d seen a therapist for a few months after I first moved back to Watford, but eventually stopped going. In some ways, rehashing the same events over and over made the recovery worse. Then again, maybe I just hadn’t found the right therapist, or I hadn’t given it enough time. Although Lucas’s experiences differed from mine, he, like me, was estranged from his soon-to-be ex-wife. Slighted spouses shared an undeniable sense of camaraderie.
“Sorry for the delay,” Connor said as he, Abbie, and Kameron appeared in the kitchen, shoving his long blond hair back from his face. Abbie’s pink-tinged cheeks told me everything I needed to know. I walked over to embrace my best friend in a hug.
“I don’t want an explanation,” I said quickly as I pulled out of Abbie’s embrace a few moments later. “I don’t want to know. We’re happy you’re here now. Even though you traumatized poor Lucas by screwing before you picked him up.”
I met Kameron’s eyes over Abbie’s shoulder. Kameron smirked, and to my eternal shock, my stomach stirred.
Maybe I wasn’t entirely honest with myself about the way Kameron made me feel. What had started as a fascination with the man seemed to have grown into a small crush. For most people, a crush was nothing notable.
That wasn’t the case with me. Wanting to know Kameron Miller was a new and distracting feeling.
I smoothed down the front of my dress, quickly shoving those thoughts away as I turned to address the small crowd gathered in my dining room.
“I made spaghetti tonight. You all know how I feel about cooking big, intense meals, so no complaining.”
“We would never complain about a home-cooked meal,” Lucas said, swooping into action and bringing the now cooled pot of pasta into the dining room. I smiled fondly, remembering the conversation he and I had several months earlier about how much he’d missed cooking when he was on active duty.
Abbie, Connor, and Kameron followed his lead, each grabbing a separate pan or container to bring into the dining room. We all sat down to eat, Abbie and Connor sitting next to each other, Kameron at the head of the table to my left, and Lucas to my right. Everyone began dishing out food onto their plates. Keeping the sauce and meatballs off the spaghetti had indeed been a good idea, as all five of us ended up with a different amalgamation of toppings on our plates.
“So, about the wedding—”
I groaned as Kameron opened the conversation with something work-related. I could have sworn he blushed a little, and the sight had my heart quickening its pace.
“I think some people are a little burned out on wedding discussions,” Connor said with a pointed look at me.
“I think it’s just me,” I replied, stabbing a meatball with my fork and swirling it around to pick up some extra sauce. “And I hope you both know how much I appreciate you. But let’s not talk about the wedding tonight. Please?”
The Google Drive folder full of spreadsheets detailing correspondence with various wedding vendors seemed to whisper to me from my closed laptop. There were many moving parts, and the pressure of making sure my best friend’s wedding was insanely perfect was getting to me. I needed one night where I could exist with my friends without thinking about it.
Abbie smiled and reached across the table to squeeze my free hand.
“Of course,” she said, and I squeezed her hand back before she pulled away. “Let’s talk about you then. How are things on the homestead?”
Oh, the homestead.
I loved this place dearly. I had since the first time I visited this farmhouse when I was old enough to remember the smell of yeast and rising bread wafting through the open space from the kitchen, how exciting it was to look out the guest bedroom window and see cattle grazing in the pastures beyond, how my grandmother had taught me all the practical skills school and my parents would never teach me.
