Page 117 of That Moment
“I wouldn’t miss it.” Aiden’s voice softens just enough that I see Mom’s eyes fill all over again.
The next half hour blurs into a rush of laughter and overlapping voices as everyone crowds into the kitchen and living room. Tyler, Trent, and Decker show up with their wives, the kids are running through the halls like caffeinated tornadoes, and the smell of grilled food and cake hangs thick in the air. It’s exactly the kind of beautiful chaos our family does best, but it also gives me insane anxiety. If only they could all be type A like me…
I pause near the counter, scanning the mess. It’s a war zone of half-decorated tables, plates stacked haphazardly, Milly adjusting a flower centerpiece for the tenth time. I take a deep breath and clap my hands once. “Alright, everyone, out!”
Brooklyn freezes mid-bite of frosting she stole from the cake. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” I say, pointing toward the back door. “Out of the kitchen. I’ve still got things to finish before everyone gets here, and Mom wanted us ready for family photos in thirty minutes. So go change, go breathe, go…anywhere but here.”
Amelia snickers into her drink. “And she’s back,” she mutters.
Aiden slings an arm around Axel’s shoulders and grins. “God, she’s still bossy as hell, I see. How have you fared without me, soldier?”
Axel barks out a laugh. “She was born bossy. That’s why she came out of the womb first, she had to tell the doctor had to deliver us.” Both of them nearly double over in laughter, elbowing each other.
“Keep it up,” I warn, hands on my hips, “and I’ll make you both hold the ‘Happy Anniversary’ banner while I iron it again.”
That gets them moving. Aiden mock-salutes me on his way toward the hallway. “Yes, ma’am, Commander Slade.”
Brooklyn and Dolly pass me on their way out, giggling. “You realize this would have been a lot easier for you if you’d never asked us to help, right?” Brooklyn teases.
“Unfortunately, I realized that far too late,” I shot back. “Now move.”
They scatter, laughter following them down the hall, and for a blissful few minutes, I actually have the house to myself.
I take a moment to first straighten all of the tablecloths, relight a few candles, and check the playlist. Every small task helps steady my nerves. I tell myself I’m just focused on making tonight perfect for Mom and Dad, not that I’m subconsciously stalling, not that my stomach has been in knots ever since I left Celeste’s.
When the last of the thirty framed pictures that tell their love story is aligned and the lights are dimmed to that soft goldenglow, I exhale and step back. The house looks beautiful. Cozy and full of love. Exactly like them.
The back door creaks open, and Mom pokes her head in, eyes scanning around the kitchen. “Everything looks perfect, sweetheart.”
“Good,” I say, returning her smile. “Now go fix your hair before the photographer gets here.”
She gasps, reaching up to touch her still perfectly styled hair. “Oh goodness, you’re right, I should.”
“You always look beautiful no matter,” I counter, but she’s already laughing as she disappears down the hallway.
Soon, the house fills up again, only it’s louder this time. Whenever we say it’s a ‘family only’ Slade event, that just means everyone we’ve ever met in town that we feel is like family, on top of our already huge extended family.
The grill’s sizzling outside with a mixture of ribs and steak, per dad’s request. A few of the kids are chasing each other through the yard with Nerf guns, but the majority of them are bouncing the night away inside the giant bounce castle we always bring out for them. I take a moment to scan the backyard, keeping my eyes open for Scotty. I haven’t seen him yet, but I know he’s coming; he told me he would.
I spot Dad stealing a kiss from Mom near the cake table, and for a moment, everything slows. It’s like I'm ten again and I’m sneaking out of bed for a snack, frozen in the shadows as I watch dad twirl mom around the living room, her laughter filling the room.
My dad has always been a man of few words, kind of like Scotty in that way… but one thing he has never had trouble expressing to my mom is how much he adores her, loves her, even worships her. It’s the kind of love that’s been built over decades and made stronger through every obstacle. The kind of love I want.
I turn to grab a tray of drinks just as Aiden calls for another round of toasts. “Here, here,” he says, lifting his glass and gently tapping a fork against it. “I know we’ve already said a few things about mom and dad, about how amazing they are, not only as parents but as friends. But now, my siblings and I would like to offer another kind of toast.”
“Oh, good god,” my dad says, looping his arm around my mom and leaning back in his chair. “Here we go.”
I’m right behind him, my stomach tightening in anxiety at the next words that might come out of my brother’s mouth.
“The three of us would like to offer,” Axel continues, “our most favorite, embarrassingly romantic story about our dad. I’ll go first.”
My stomach unclenches as he launches into a story about the time my dad traveled all around the state, just trying to find my mom’s favorite, local candy that stopped being made. I’m swept up in the joy of it all, my parents smiling, my brothers quickly turning the toasts into a family story time that has my cousins laughing until they cry.
It’s perfect. So perfect that I don’t notice the quiet shift on the back deck. I don’t see the truck parked at the edge of the drive or the tall, broad-shouldered figure who’s just joined the party.
When the laughter dies down from Axel’s story, I stand, heart thudding. “My turn,” I say, lifting my glass. The room quiets, faces tipping toward me. Mom is halfway through a box of tissues already.
