Page 40 of Cherished Lands
Mom was the first to speak. About halfway into our twenty-minute drive home, she said, "I pulled some steaks out of the deep freezer this morning. What do you two say about a celebratory dinner?"
Before Tessa could reply, I cut in.
"You do remember this was a fake wedding, right, Mom? Not sure we need to celebrate." When I glanced in the rearview mirror, I could've sworn I saw Tessa wince.
Mom flapped a hand. "I know that. Still, we can celebrate getting through this setback and moving forward with the cidery. This is exciting!"
"Dinner sounds great, Emma," Tessa said, and my mother smiled so big it was nearly blinding.
When we pulled into the gravel drive in front of my parents' house, Mom and Tessa hopped out, yammering away as they scurried through the cold and into the house. Dad and I, on the other hand, took our time ambling toward the front door.
He paused at the bottom step of the porch, hands shoveddeep in the pockets of his worn Carhartt jacket—odd but fitting outerwear over his suit jacket. He turned toward me with that knowing look he got whenever he was about to drop some fatherly wisdom.
"Ya know," he started. "Somethin' tells me that even after a year is up, that girl will always be part of this family. Your mother loves her."
"Didn't know Mom had a thing for picking up strays."
It was harsh, and I didn't mean it. But I didn't want Dad to see how Tessa affected me. As far as he knew, this was as fake as the white goose statue sitting on the front porch.
"Probably 'cause she was a stray herself once."
I'd only heard bits and pieces of Mom's story over the years. I suspected I'd never get the whole thing. Some secrets were better left buried, some hurts too deep to dredge up. But she had Dad, and I was grateful for that.
We made our way inside where Mom and Tessa were already getting started on dinner. Tessa was still in her white dress. I wished she'd change.
It was a tight-fitting, curve-hugging sweater material that exposed her bare shoulders. Her hair was piled on top of her head in some fancy pearl clip thing, and the long line of her neck was practically begging for my mouth.
"I got time to go change?" Maybe if I did, she would too.
"Sure, honey," Mom said. "Will you bring a couple bottles of wine over, too? I know you have that good Vintage Point stuff." Mom winked, and Tessa smiled at the cutting board where she was currently chopping potatoes.
"Tessa, you, uh, need anything?"Another kiss? An orgasm? How 'bout a turtleneck to hide all that skin you're teasing me with?
She looked up at me, and her eyes glimmered under the pendant lights above the kitchen island. "I'm good, thanks."
Look at us, being so fucking polite.
Fifteen minutes later, I was back in my usual uniform of worn-out jeans, a flannel, and my Carhartt. Much more me than that monkey suit. I climbed the steps of the back porch, with a bottle of wine in one hand and two tucked under my arm. Before I could make it to the door, though, the scene I saw through the window stopped me dead in my tracks.
Dad sat at the island, gesticulating wildly with his hands. Mom had her elbows planted on the counter, her chin in her hands, and a dreamy smile on her face, like she was some teenage girl listening to her crush tell a story. And Tessa? Tessa had her head thrown back in laughter. She'd taken her hair down, and the gold tresses flowed down her back, nearly hitting that peachy little ass I loved so much.
Fuck, what a sight.
I swallowed past the aching lump in my throat and stood stock still for a few moments, watching them together.
My parents andmy wife.
"Oh!Tessa, has anyone told you about Elliot's first attempt at making cider?" Mom asked as she topped off everyone's wine glasses.
I groaned. "Mom, no."
"Mom, yes," Dad chimed in, leaning back in his chair with a grin.
Tessa's eyes lit up with interest as she turned toward my mother. The wine had brought a sexy little flush to her cheeks.
"He was, oh, about seven or eight," Mom started, ignoring my protests. "And he'd been watching Jay and his father process apples for weeks. Got it in his head that he could make his own cider."
"Which would have been fine," Dad cut in, "if he'd actually asked anyone how it worked."
