Page 88 of The Backup Groom

It never failed to surprise me how much mutual respect my folks had for one another.

When we went back inside, the table was already set, and my dad was singing along to a song that played from his sound system in the living room.

“Endless Love” by Lionel Richie and Diana Ross.

I’d heard it often since it was one of my parents’ favorite songs.

The second he spied my mom, he stopped what he was doing and pulled her into his arms. He danced with her around the kitchen, swaying to the gentle beat, and nuzzling her neck. When the song ended, he maintained hold of her hand and led her to the stove. He stirred the pasta sauce, then fed mom a taste from the wooden spoon.

My mom’s eyes lit up. “Divine, as usual, my darling.”

“Thank you.” My dad grinned and kissed her.

Amber saw the plate of brownies. “My mom used to make brownies for me all the time when I was a little girl. It was one of her specialties. She always made them from scratch.”

“Looks like your mom and I have something in common.” My mom pulled them closer. “Those are also from scratch.”

“Have one!” my dad said as he strained the pasta. “It’s Eileen’s special recipe, and they are out of this world.”

Amber shook her head. “Thanks, but I really don’t want to ruin my appetite for dinner. It smells amazing.”

“Nonsense,” my dad said. “We don’t have rules in this house. You can eat whatever you want, whenever you want, before, during, or after dinner. If you want, you can eat brownies for breakfast. We believe in living in the moment and not by what society dictates you should or shouldn’t do.”

“I second that emotion,” my mom said. “Please help yourself, but you should know that they are pot brownies.”

Amber snorted. “Here we go again.”

I nodded in agreement. “She’s serious.”

Amber laughed harder this time. “I may be gullible, but I’m notthatgullible. Like the pot garden, right? These brownies were made in a pot, is that it?”

I shook my head. “No, they’re really—”

She held up her hand. “Sorry, I’m not falling for it again.” Before I could stop her, she grabbed a two-inch square and took a huge bite, moaning. “Oh, wow. These are delicious.”

She took another bite.

“Amber—”

“They’re very similar to my mom’s, but I’m trying to identify a certain flavor.” Amber took another bite, setting the rest to the side on her napkin. “Okay, I’ll save the rest for later. I can honestly say I have never had dessert before dinner. I feel positively alive.”

“Believe me, that’s not the only sensation you’re going to have,” I said, chuckling.

Amber shook her head. “Sorry. I’m still not buying it. Nice try.”

There was nothing more I could do at that point.

My mom and I both tried to stop her from eating it, but she wouldn’t listen. Not that I was worried that the brownies were harmful to Amber. It was a mild dose my mom had prepared to help relieve the pain from her tendonitis, that sometimes was exacerbated by her gardening. Still, the last thing I expected was for Amber to eat pot brownies.

And I had a feeling the evening was about to get very interesting.

ChapterNineteen

Scotty

I pulled out a chair for Amber as we sat down at the table. My dad placed plates of pasta in front of each of us, along with a serving of freshly baked garlic bread.

My dad lifted his wine glass. “To love. To life. To spontaneity. And to living moment to moment.”