I huff out a breath, my hair flopping with the movement as I shut the oven door. Setting the timer, I brush my hands off on my apron and take in the mess that’s all over Dean’s kitchen. I’ve been cooking up a storm for our Friendsgiving today.
It’s been a few weeks since my car was trashed. We still don’t know who did it, the cops weren’t able to find much evidence. Insurance decided it was beyond repair and totaled the whole thing out for me. I was due a new vehicle anyways, I’d been driving that car since graduation when mama and daddy gave it to me.
Dean insisted I need something larger and more reliable, since I was “driving a tuna can.” His words, not mine. So, we went to look at cars last week, but ended up leaving with nothing. Nothing really caught my eye, other than a 2018 Chevy Tahoe that I loved but would never be able to afford. So instead, I’ve just been using Dean’s truck and he drives the Mustang he brought home from Jim’s. Maybe one day I’ll find something I like and can afford, but until then this is working just fine.
I’m dicing the onions for the stuffing when the back door slides open and Dean and Ranger come in from outside. He’s been outside setting up the chairs and tables. We’ve invited everyone over for dinner - Mama and Wesley, Ford and Lex’s family, Jaxson, Avery and her kids, employees of the bar, and Dean’s mom are all coming over for dinner. We have been in the kitchen cooking for most of the morning. I thought Dean would let me cook and go about doing other things, but he’s been right beside me in the kitchen almost all day, helping me. We’ve got the turkey on the smoker, green bean casserole in the crock pot, corn pudding in the oven. Just a little bit longer before it’s finished, and everyone is showing up.
“I’ve got all the tables set up, babe,” he says, shutting the door behind him and looking around the kitchen. “Need any help in here?”
I slip my apron off and hang it on the back of the pantry door. Dean’s kitchen is the definition of a dream kitchen, with a walk-in pantry and big vaulted ceilings. I love it.
“Nope. Everything is just about ready. I was gonna grab a few bottles of wine out of the wine fridge and put some glasses out back on the patio,” I say as he grabs the glasses without me having to ask and I grab a few bottles of my favorite wine for me and the girls. Dean drops a kiss on my cheek as he slides the patio door open and motions for me to go ahead of him just so he can slap my ass as I walk past. I roll my eyes at him and set the wine and glasses up before dropping down into one of the patio chairs. He grabs a chair and slides it in front of me, sitting down and motioning for my foot. I prop them up in his lap and he gets to work with his hands, kneading them and working all the knots out. I drop my head back and sigh contently.
“Happy?” He asks as he goes about rubbing my feet.
“Incredibly,” I answer honestly, and he hits me with his lopsided grin.
“Me too,” he says, “glad you’re in my life, Whitley Jean.”
My heart flip flops like it always does, tripping and stumbling all over itself. The butterflies this man still gives me are unreal. I hear a car door slam from the front of the house.
“Showtime.” He grins at me and drops my feet just as Aria comes careening around the side of the house.
“Uncle Dean!” She squeals and he stands, bracing himself just in time for her to fling her body at him. He swoops her up, hitching her up on his hip and dropping a kiss on her curly head and my tummy starts feeling fluttery. Dean Anderson is hot, but you throw in Dean the uncle, with the sweet little girl that has him wrapped around her finger hitched on his hip, and his hotness level skyrockets. He listens intently as she tells him about the superhero book she’s reading at home. Lex drops down in the chair next to me, pouring herself and me a glass of wine before depositing it in my hand.
“Hey girl,” I say, turning my attention from super-hot Dean to her, “how are things?”
I take in my sweet friend, who I’ve come to love the crud out of, looking happier than I’ve ever seen her. Her green eyes look bright and happy, a smile dancing on her lips.
“Things are good. Really, really, good. It’s nice to not be looking over my shoulder. Thank you for checking on me, I appreciate it.” I’ve been checking on her daily, making sure she’s good. Losing your ex, even though he’s a sociopath, has to be traumatic, and I want her to know she’s not alone.
“Of course,” I say softly, flicking my eyes towards Dean who is now in a pow wow with Ford and Jaxson.
“How are you, Whit?” She asks, waggling her eyebrows and my cheeks heat.
“Good. I mean,” I shrug my shoulders, “things are great between us and being with him again has been awesome.” I can’t find the words to express how amazing he’s been. I’m head over heels in love with that man and it’s bigger and better than it ever was when we were younger. Don’t get me wrong, I loved him back then. But that was a young love and young love isn’t always mature. We were oil and water most of the time, fighting and making up constantly. It’s no wonder my daddy told him to come back when he grew up a little, he knew just how volatile our relationship really was. And the time we’ve spent apart only made this time around that much sweeter. Stronger.
Avery and the kids show up and all the kids run off to play while the adults drink and laugh. Dean and Ford are inside cutting up the turkey when his mama, Darla, shows up. It’s the first time I’ve seen her, albeit a few times when she’s been up at the bar drinking or the instances where we’ve seen each other at the store. We’ve never been in a small space, forced to talk to each other, since the day Everly was born. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. I suck in a breath as she makes her way around everyone, saying hi, before finally landing on me.
“As I live and breathe, get your ass over here, girlie,” she says, dragging me up from the chair by my hand and wrapping her arms around me. She pulls her head back and rests her hands on my cheeks as she looks back and forth between my eyes before releasing me without any words and going in to see Dean. I know what she’s trying to say, even though she won't say it.
I missed you. I’m sorry. I love you.
I missed her, too. She was always this powerful force in my life, gently loving me but also gently telling me when I was being an idiot or silently cheering me on through the last two years of high school, even after Dean had graduated. She fully supported our relationship and our pregnancy. Did she find it ideal? No. But she knew Dean and I were going to be great parents and she was over the moon to be a grandma. I didn’t just lose Everly that day, I lost the relationship I formed with Darla over those four years and that was hard.
Avery and I are deep in conversation with the back door slides open and Dean comes out with some of the food, Darla and Ford right behind him. We get dinner set up and everyone settles in when mama insists that everyone go around the table and say one thing they are thankful for. She starts with the kids table, starting with Genevieve and Blake before finally landing on Aria who clears her throat.
“Dear God,” she starts, and we all chuckle a little. “I am thankful for Daddy and Zane. And gramma and Uncle Z. And my Uncle Dean who isn’t really my uncle,” she goes on, making us laugh some more, “but mostly I’m thankful because even though you took my first mommy,” she starts.
“Shit,” Ford murmurs.
“Daddy be quiet,” she scolds before going on, “even though you took mommy Zoe, you gave me and daddy and Zane mommy Lexi and even though she’s not really my mommy, I really love her and I’m very thankful she is here. Amen,” she finishes like a prayer and Lex is out of her seat and pulling her into a hug, tears streaming down her face. She positions herself in Aria’s chair and pulls her onto her lap as we finish goin’ around the table.
Mama talks about how she’s thankful for Wes and for me, while Ford says he’s thankful for Lex and the kids. It’s finally Dean’s turn. He’s seated beside me at the table, and he squeezes my knee before talking.
“This is my first family Thanksgiving in the twelve years I’ve been gone. I spent many Thanksgiving’s alone at Waffle House or in some seedy motel room. To be here, with everyone I love, is amazing and I’m sorry I didn’t come home sooner.” He points the last part of his statement to me and I give him a sad smile, because I’m sorry he didn’t come home sooner, too. We lost so much time together. He continues. “But this year I’m thankful that I was able to convince this beautiful woman to give me a second chance. I love you,” he says, pressing a kiss to my cheek and scooting his chair out.
“Thankful that a kiss under those bleachers all those years ago led to this big, beautiful life with you.” He slides out of his chair and onto one knee in front of me. I gasp, hands covering my mouth. “Whitley Jean, will you be my wife?” I nod my head yes without even hesitating, tears streaming down my face as I slide from my chair and into his arms, our friends cheering. He slips my mama’s engagement ring from daddy on my finger.