Page 142 of Over the Moon

We had a rocky start to the season, but we were finding our footing. It was a marathon, not a sprint, as we played eighty-two games over a seven-month period. We had time to build and allow our new younger players to find their rhythm.

“I feel good.” I kissed her cheek before stepping back and snatching a piece of celery off the charcuterie board.

Music hummed through the sound system, and Melody and Cutler were sitting at the kitchen table with Emerson, Eloise, and Aunt Isabel, decorating sugar cookies.

Archer, Axel, Bridger, Rafe, Easton, Nash, Lulu, and Henley were all playing pool in the game room, and Uncle Carlisle sat at the bar with my father in a heated game of backgammon.

“That was a great game yesterday,” she said, turning and wiping her hands with a dish towel. “You played well.”

“Thanks, Mama. I loved that you were all there.”

“Nowhere else we’d rather be.” She winked. “Although I think you’ve swayed Cutler from wanting to be a boxer like his uncle Romeo to wanting to be a professional hockey player now.”

“Yo, Beefcake,” I said, moving to the table to sit with them.

“Yo, Uncle Clark.” He chuckled.

“Word on the street is you want to be a hockey player when you grow up.”

“I think it would be cool to be a hockey player, just like you.” He smiled, with orange frosting on the tip of his nose. “Uncle Romeo said I shouldn’t be a boxer ‘cause we don’t want to ruin this handsome face.”

Emerson’s head tipped back in laughter. “It’s a very reasonable point. I love this little face of yours exactly how it is.”

“Well, bad news, Beefcake. I got an elbow to the cheek yesterday, so hockey isn’t necessarily the safest profession.” I smirked, and the little dude looked up at me with a wide grin on his face like it was great that I had a bruise beneath my eye.

“I think you look cool.” He beamed.

“And I think you want to be a hockey player because sweet Gracie Reynolds told you hockey players were cool,” my sister said, her voice teasing.

“That’s your friend from Cottonwood Cove, right?” I asked, remembering that’s where his uncle Romeo’s brother, Lincoln Hendrix, lived. He was a professional football player, and we were all fans of his. His wife had a large family that Cutler had grown close to.

“Ahhh… it’s always about a girl, isn’t it?” I leaned back against the cushioned banquette, as Eloise turned to look at me.Her cheeks were pink from the glass of wine she was sipping, and she smiled at me.

“I like Lolo’s new necklace,” Melody said. The little angel had orange and red icing all over her fingers, as she tried over and over to pick up individual sprinkles to place on her cookie.

Eloise placed her fingers over the little gold moon charm, resting just between her collarbones.

“Uncle Clark gave this to me this morning.” Her teeth sank into her bottom lip.

“Had to get my girl something to celebrate our first Thanksgiving together.” I wrapped an arm around her shoulder and kissed her cheek.

“You two like moons, huh? I like moons, too,” Cutler said.

“Well, I’m over the moon for my girl, so it seemed fitting. And you should always be over the moon when you give your heart away.” I winked at Eloise, and she leaned against me and smiled.

My mom, sister, and aunt Isabel were all swooning over the necklace, and Cutler gave me a smirk as if to say good job.

The buzzer rang on the oven, and my mom and aunt were on their feet as if it were suddenly go time. Emerson joined them, just as everyone came out of the game room and jumped in to help.

The turkey was done, the sides were all carried to the table, and we all gathered around the large dining room table, taking our seats.

My father and Uncle Carlisle were filling wine glasses, food was being passed from one person to the next, and Lulu started laughing as she held her phone up.

“Well, looky here. I just got a notification that theTaylor Teadid a special Thanksgiving edition, and it’s all about a certain couple sitting at this table, if I’m reading between the lines.”

Bridger groaned. “Now she’s taking over Thanksgiving. I’d like to eat my turkey in peace.”

“I want to hear what it says,” Cutler said, waggling his brows.

---