One Bride for Three Firemen

And then it will just be us. Just like that.

But this morning, it still feels a little odd. It’s just the first day, I keep reminding myself, but she left to go to the grocery store. Or she left because she was mad and wanted some space. Or she left because… The grocery store is a more reasonable explanation. I probably shouldn’t worry about it. I’m not used to overthinking.

After four minutes, the timer goes off and I push the lid down on the plunger to force the coffee grounds to the bottom of the glass container. It’s called a French press. Olivia brought it and it’s amazing.

Pete comes jogging down the stairs, looking all around until he sees me.

“You made coffee?” he asks.

“Yup.”

He pours out a big mug, finishing it off with cream and sugar. He takes a long sniff before drinking it, then smiles to himself.

“It’s strong,” he remarks.

“Yup.”

There is a dish on the counter with a towel over it. It has more of that cornbread in it. I think that’s what I want right now.

“Trigger, it’s going to be okay,” Pete tells me all of a sudden.

I look at him and think about replying, but just shrug.

“Just saying. Because you look worried,” he continues. “Are you worried?”

I just shrug again.

He punches me lightly in the arm.

“It’s an adjustment for all of us,” he smiles. “But just think about the good things, okay? Everybody will settle down. Just keep thinking about the good things. Don’t be nervous.”

Sometimes I think that Pete thinks that I am a little bit learning-disabled or something. I’m not. I don’t feel the need to talk about everything the way he and Stephan do. I am a farm boy. We spend a lot of time alone. Not everything has to have words attached.

He catches me smiling and smiles back.

“Are you guys almost done upstairs?” I ask.

His eyes brighten as he smiles. “Stephan’s almost finished,” he nods. “It’s great.”

The back door opens at that moment, and Olivia comes in with a bunch of canvas bags looped over her arms and shoulders. Pete and I rush forward, stopping her in her tracks so we can take all of the packages away from her. She stops and smiles at us, holding her arms out like a Christmas tree so we can get everything.

“Why didn’t you just honk the horn?” Pete fusses.

“Honk the horn?” she repeats. “Is that what I should do?”

“You never have to carry your own groceries,” I laugh. “Don’t be silly. Just lay on the horn.”

She raises her eyebrows. I love it when she looks at us like this. Like she’s surprised and kind of flattered all at once. Like she’s some kind of queen.

“Gee. A girl could get used to this.”

“That’s the plan,” Pete smiles as he drags the bags over to the kitchen.

She catches my eye and follows me to the kitchen. After I dump the bags on the counter, she comes up on her tiptoes and stretches to give me a quick kiss on the cheek. Instantly I feel better. Look at that smile.

“Okay, I hope you guys like country ribs? I got like four pounds. Potato salad?”

“Sounds amazing,” Pete says.

My mouth starts to water right away.

She peeks through the various bags, muttering to herself and making little calculations.

“Okay, so, we can do ribs tonight… Lasagna tomorrow… Then I was thinking some kind of Cobb salad on Friday…”

“You don’t want to make us fat,” Pete laughs.

“I can eat all day and I will never get fat,” I remind him. “I need my energy!”

She reaches over and slides her hand under my T-shirt, patting my belly. I flex for her and she opens her eyes wide and bites her lip.

“Yeah. Not an ounce of fat on you! But if we do go too far, I think I know how to keep you good and exercised!”

“Yeah, you definitely do,” I smile, pulling her closer.

She sways toward me, arching her back so that when I reach around her, it’s easy to lift her right off her feet. Her hands automatically fold behind my neck and I twirl her around like a Disney princess, happy to see the carefree way she throws her head back and lets her hair flow out behind her.

“What the fuck is this?” comes a voice.

Olivia gasps and stiffens in my arms. I resist the urge to carry her immediately out of the room as she struggles to climb down from my embrace.

Her old boyfriend… what’s his name again, Roger? He stands on the other end of the firehouse, glaring and huffing like some kind of sitcom character.

“You broke your lease!” he accuses, pointing at her and rushing across the room.

Immediately, Pete and I close ranks in front of her. This guy isn’t getting anywhere.

“Guys? Guys?” she says as she tries to pry us apart.