"You did it now," Reed says from behind Quinn. "You’ve woken the beast."
"You." My mother points at Reed. "Who did your house?"
"Mom, we had to baby-proof glass tables," he says, dropping the box. "And everything was white."
"It was neutral, and it’s fine," she hisses out and then looks at my father. "You see what you did. You did this." She puts her hands on her hips. "You turned them like this."
"Me?" My father points at himself. "How did this become about me? All I’m doing is moving my only daughter six hours away from me."
Now Quinn and Reed both groan out. "Here we go,” Reed grumbles. "Can we unload the truck before it gets dark out, because I have to get back to the kids."
It takes them two hours to unload all the boxes, and when I turn around, there are boxes everywhere that furniture should be. I hug my parents and brothers and fight back the tears, telling them I’m going to go and see them next week. When they finally drive away from me, I turn and bury my face in Travis’s chest. "Don’t cry." He rubs my back, and I hear a car pull up in the driveway. I turn and see his mother getting out of the car. "I brought food," she says, walking to the trunk and taking out two takeout bags. "I figured you guys would be hungry."
"Great," Shelby says. "Shall I grab pillows and we can sit on the floor and have a picnic?”
"We can sit in the kitchen. There are stools there," Travis says and glares at Shelby.
"We’ll make do," I say, wrapping my arms around his waist. "Also, I wouldn’t be surprised if we come home tomorrow and the house is fully furnished." I walk into the house and wonder if I should tackle the boxes today or start fresh tomorrow.
"Tomorrow," Travis says, bending to kiss my neck, and I shake my head and laugh that he knew what I was thinking.
"I’m starving, and there are only two stools," Clarabella says, grabbing a bag from her mother. "What do we have here?” She starts taking out the containers. "Pasta.” She puts it on the counter. "Chicken." She takes another one out. "Rice, veggies, garlic mashed potatoes, grilled chicken, and sliders."
"I’ll go get some chairs in the garage," Travis says, kissing my neck and walking to get the chairs.
"There are paper plates in this one," Shelby says, grabbing them and putting them on the counter.
"Does this count toward our weekly family dinner?" Presley asks, opening the containers for us to help ourselves. "I vote yes."
"This is a celebratory dinner," his mom says, smiling at me. She comes over and gives me a hug. "We are so happy you are here."
"I’m happy to be here." I smile at her, grabbing a plate and filling it.
"I don’t think we’ve ever had a meal here," Clarabella says, getting on a stool.
"We had breakfast here the day of his wedding," Presley reminds her, and then her eyes widen as she turns to me. "I’m sorry."
I chuckle. "I’m fine with it." I shrug. "He’s the one who gets reminded of it." I grab a piece of carrot. "Weekly."
"We had dinner here on his birthday," his mom says. "Last year."
I look down at my food, and I have this sudden feeling of sorrow that washes over me. "Yes, and he had the lemon cake," Clarabella says, moaning. "That was the best cake I’ve had in my life."
"I don’t know about you guys," Presley states, and I look up at her. "But I’m happy that you are here."
"Thank you," I say.
"It’s not just because you are nicer," Clarabella says. "And easier to talk to." I look at them, and then his mother clears her throat. "What? You can’t tell me you don’t see a difference in him."
"There is a huge difference," his mother shares. "It’s night and day. Every time I would invite him for dinner, he would just say yeah and come alone. Now I ask him about dinner, and he has to check with you."
The talking stops when he comes into the room with two chairs. "That’s all I found."
"That’s okay. I can stand," I say and he comes over and grabs a plate, coming to stand next to me when we eat. The talking is free around the table, and when he helps clean up, his mother sends him to the store to get milk for our coffee tomorrow. Clarabella and Shelby also take off with Presley following them.