“Your event?” I tilted my head back to Wes, but he ignored me. Or maybe he didn’t hear me because he was mumbling something to Blue whose eyes jumped up in a glimmer to mine.

“What? He didn’t tell you this here is all his?” Trace’s question brought my attention back to him where his stocky arms spread out wide.

“No, he didn’t.” I folded my arms and cocked my eyebrow up at Wes. “So, what? You plan all this?”

He stuffed his hands in his pocket and shrugged.

“Every year? You set this whole thing up?” I had no idea. “That’s amazing.”

“It’s nothing.” He pulled one hand from his pocket and scratched at his beard.

“Of course it’s something, Wes.” He fidgeted nervously under my stare, but I couldn’t stop watching him. As well as I thought I knew him, there were still heart-stopping, tender layers I hadn’t seen yet.

“Ya should bring her to the next drink in the street.” Blue shoved a cigarette into his mouth and turned his head from the breeze to light it.

“Oh, I don’t think so, Bluebell.” Wes shifted on his feet and scratched his head.

“Why not?” I straightened my back and glared at Wes.

“It’s just a bunch of us sitting around in lawn chairs in the middle of Rocco’s street,” Wes said. “He lives in a cul-de-sac.”

“Which one’s Rocco?” I asked him.

“Good question. Where is Rocco?” Wes asked Trace.

“Fucker’s at therapy. I’m with Wes though, Blue. I don’t know if drink in the street is this pretty lady’s kinda thing.” Trace crossed his arms over his chest and puffed it out a bit. I had a feeling I was being tested.

“Yeah, I dunno, can she handle talks about tea bagging, docking, and spit roasting?” Blue widened his stance and puffed out a billow of smoke. This was definitely a test.

“Bro—”

“I don’t care what you say about dicks as long as I don’t see yours in action.” I cut Wes off who gasped next to me.

“Did she just say dick?” he whispered. “She just said dick.”

I ignored him. “As long as I don’t have to bear witness to any of these things, I can handle any talk of things such as Eiffel Towers and sausage hostages you decide to partake in.”

“Holy shit!” Wes laughed out.

“Woo wee,” Trace whooped.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Blue tossed his cigarette onto the asphalt and smashed it with the toe of his boot. “Bring her next time.” Blue gave Wes a weak punch in the arm. “See you soon, sweetheart.” He winked at me.

“It was nice meeting you.” I smiled. “You, too,” I said to Trace.

“Likewise. Give this fucker hell,” he said before clasping hands with Wes and following Blue away.

“Did I pass?” I grinned up at Wes.

“C, you didn’t just pass, you got your motherfucking degree.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder again and pulled me in close. His lips met my forehead. “You’re awesome, you know,” he mumbled into me. I closed my eyes sighing inwardly.

“Sometimes?”

“Nope,” he said, lips still pressed gently against me. “All the time.”

“Here’s yours, Kensie, sweetie.” Mom handed Kensie the intricately woven basket they’d brought back from their recent trip.

“It’s beautiful,” Kensie gushed. “What did you say it’s called again?”

“It’s a sweetgrass basket. Gullah tradition passes down the craft from generation to generation. Each one is completely unique based on the style of the artist who wove it,” she said arranging apples in a larger one she had placed on the kitchen counter.

“And your mom has one from every artist within a ten-mile radius,” my dad joked, earning my mom’s infamous evil eye.

My parents had always been avid travelers, but after we had lost Ella, they chose to spend their trips volunteering rather than sightseeing. Losing her had changed all of us, and I suppose for them, giving back became a way to honor her. For this trip, they flew to South Carolina to help build a house with Habitat for Humanity for a family that had a little girl about Ella’s age. They’d just returned last night and had invited August and Kensie over to have breakfast with us.

“I didn’t buy that many, Steve.” My mom was now brewing a fresh pot of coffee and handing out mugs to each of us.

“They’re lovely, Mom.” I took my mug from her and sat down at the small breakfast table. “I don’t see how anyone could choose just one, and I’m sure the weavers appreciated your support.”

My mom flashed my dad a cheeky grin and brought over the full pot of coffee, making him chuckle. “Help yourselves, kids,” she announced just barely taking her seat before August started shoveling eggs onto his plate. How could men eat so much, yet stay so fit? It was just not fair. If I ate the same amount he did, I’d wake up tomorrow with another ass.

“She’ll always agree with you, Mom,” August mumbled around his mouth full of food. I stuck my tongue out at him.

“Mature,” he mumbled, shoveling another heaping fork full.

“About as mature as talking with your mouth full of eggs,” I smirked at him.

“Kensie loves me,” he said sitting up straight.

“Hmmm.” She sighed, eyeing him pitifully.

I laughed filling my mug with coffee. “Thank goodness for that. We have a no return policy in this house, Kens. You can’t give him back,” my dad joked with her.

“Make sure you run that by Wes before you hand over Capri,” August said wiping his mouth with a napkin. I was just setting my mug back down on the table when he spoke those words. Each word loosened my grip, letting the mug drop onto the table and slosh coffee in little splatters around it.

My mom’s head snapped up from where she was cutting her pancakes. She smiled brightly and dropped her fork and knife clasping her hands to her chest. “Finally.”

“What?” I said horrified and strangely curious about her response.

“We’ve been dreaming of this day for so long, haven’t we, Steven,” my mom asked my dad who sighed and shook his head.

“Okay, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I don’t like it.” I did, however, find it interesting. I didn’t think my parents had ever approved of any of the guys I’d dated, not that they’d even met any of them. Wes and I would never happen, though.

“There is no Wes and me,” I stated firmly, gripping my mug in both hands.

August stood up from the quiet table and collected the empty plates. He patted me on the shoulder as he walked by on his way to the sink. “What time are you meeting him today?” his obnoxious voice asked, laced with amusement.

“You’re meeting him? Where? What time?” My mom’s eyes sparkled with hope.

“Does he need help tying his shoes?” my dad mumbled from behind the steaming cup pulled up to his lips. So I guess only my mom was a fan of Wes.

“He’s painting a mural for me on the gym wall,” August said retaking his seat next to Kensie but not before kissing her on the temple. She smiled sweetly at him, reminding me of what I wanted in my next relationship. I wanted someone who loved me so completely that they kissed me no matter who was around. I wanted someone to look at me and see me, adoring every placating piece.

“And I’m helping him out. That’s it,” I said directly to my mom. “And you know we aren’t painting today because you’ve got the boys running drills in the gym this afternoon,” I said straight to August who let out a muffled grunt when Kensie kicked him under the table. I air high fived her and smirked at my brother. He might be her husband soon, but I was still one of her best friends.

“Calm down about the boy, Donna. Capri has a date with Dan tonight, remember?” I slumped into my chair and purposefully avoided my brother. Dan was a guy my age who worked at the woman’s shelter with us every Thanksgiving. He had been trying to get me to go out with him for years, and I had been avoiding him for years.