“Smells good, Mrs.—Gramma,” West groans, inhaling deeply as he piles his plate sky high.

My grandma cheeses big time as he adds enough food for his Styrofoam plate to bend under the weight.

“You can always get seconds,” I say, laughing under my breath.

“You hush up. He’s a growing boy.”

I sputter out a laugh while West looks fifty shades of smug. “Yeah, I’m a growing boy.”

I shoulder past him to make my own plate. “Only thing growing on you is your ego.”

West laughs and takes my plate from me, somehow managing to carry both of our plates to the table without a catastrophe.

Mom brushes by on her way into the kitchen. She was napping when we got here. “West, Stacia, so happy y’all are here with us.”

She’s improved drastically since Dad was released, but it seems as though her anxiety is here to stay, and some days are easier for her than others. I think, deep down, she’s scared his name won’t be cleared and that she’ll lose him for good.

Once we’re all gathered around the table, my grandma bows her head and blesses the food. “Lord, thank you for your many blessings. From this food, to the company we’re sharing it with, we’re grateful. In your name, amen.” She looks up and asks, “Who’s gonna start us off?”

“I’ll go,” Mom says. “I’m thankful for us being here together.” Her eyes stay locked onto her husband as she speaks. A sense of rightness engulfs me, knowing that I helped bring her joy back to her.

My dad goes next. “I’m thankful beyond measure to eat food that is actually palatable.”

Gramma tsks. “Kenneth Kellan, my food is more than palatable.”

He bows his head. “You’re right; it’s the best I’ve ever had.”

You’d think Mom would scoff, but my lack of culinary prowess came from somewhere. Grandma blames Grandpa’s side of the family.

“I’m glad the refs are only half blind this game,” Grandpa says, making us all laugh.

“I’m grateful there won’t be any leftovers for me to store.”

“None? Really?” I whimper. I was already planning on chowing down on some dumplings for a midnight snack.

West reaches out and runs his thumb over my wrist in a soothing gesture. He knows good and well that I’ve been waking up most nights and raiding the kitchen.

“I set some aside already,” Gramma says. “Calm your britches. What are you grateful for, West?”

“That I’m here with all of you.” I’d say he’s laying on the charm, but I know he means every word; his family—save for Brock—sucks.

I heave out a deep breath. It’s my turn. You’re good, Stacia, do it just like you planned. “Tonight, what I’m most thankful for is…” My words trail off as nerves steal my voice. Get it together! I clear my throat and start again. “What I’m most thankful for is that in about twenty weeks, West and I will become parents to a sweet baby boy.”

Other than my mother’s sharp inhale, the room is dead silent.

Finally, after an uncomfortably long amount of time, my mom speaks. “You’re pregnant?” Her eyes shine with emotion, but I can’t get a read on exactly how she’s feeling.

West takes my hand in his and squeezes. “Yes,” I whisper, “we are. Hooray!”

All of the sudden, everyone starts talking all at once, and judging from their tones, they’re happy for us.

Mom pushes back from the table and comes to me, wrapping me in the kind of hug only a mother can give. “My sweet girl. I’m so happy for you.”

Dad’s next. “Wildflower…never thought you’d make me a grandpa before sixty.”

I smirk. “And yet here we are.”

He grins. “Smartass.”

Grandpa offers his congratulations from his seat with a raise of his glass and a tilt of his chin. “Happy for y’all.”

The only person who has yet to say anything is my grandmother. Nope. She’s been watching the revelry with a guarded expression. My heart aches at the thought of her being let down or disappointed.

Finally, she speaks, though instead of offering her congratulations, she pins West with a hard look and asks, “Now that you’ve knocked up my granddaughter, tell me, do you plan on making an honest woman out of her?”

I groan, wishing like hell the floor would open up and swallow me whole. “Gramma! It’s the twenty-first century; a man doesn’t have to marry a woman simply because she’s having his child.”

“Now hold on,” West says. I whip around to look at him. “I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to all three of us sharing the same last name; Stacia’s the only holdout at this point.”

“What?” I ask, in complete disbelief.

“You heard me, baby, I’d put a ring on your finger in the blink of an eye.”

“You would?” I can’t believe we’re having this conversation in front of my family, but right now, I’m too interested in his reply to care.

“All day long. The second you’re ready, I’ll be down on one knee.”

Tags: L.K. Farlow Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net