The Happy Ever After Playlist - Abby Jimenez Page 0,57

me over Paul’s shoulder.

Paul smiled at me. “We’ve heard so much about you, Sloan. The Huntsman’s Wife! Very impressive. We’ve eaten a lot of your food over the years.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you too,” I replied, flustered by the familiar welcome. What was up with Larsen men and flustering?

“And what do you think of our state?” Paul asked.

“It’s beautiful. I see why Jason sings about it.”

Paul smiled at his son approvingly.

David sat in a chair at the table and Jason hovered over a pot, holding the lid.

“What are we having?” he asked, picking up a spoon and tasting the contents.

“Swedish meatballs.” Patricia hit him with her baking mitt. “Get out of there,” she said, running him off.

I smiled.

“Something to drink?” Jason asked me.

“No, thank you. You want help?” I asked Patricia, joining her by the stove. Jason smiled at me and grabbed a beer from the fridge and went to sit with his brother.

“Would you mind chopping some parsley?” she asked, pointing to a cutting board. “It’s in the crisper drawer.”

I dove right in, tying up my hair and washing my hands. I searched the fridge for the parsley and dug around for a knife and began to chop. Patricia looked on approvingly. I faced the brothers as I worked, while Patricia moved around behind me, dropping meatballs into a frying pan.

“Dad wants help putting the dock out tomorrow,” David said to Jason.

“Already?” Jason asked, opening his beer.

Paul spoke over his dishes. “Ice is gone. Been warm this year.”

“How’s the dock?” Jason asked.

David looked over at his parents, whose backs were turned, and mouthed, “Fucked up.”

“The dock is fine. Just needs patching,” Paul said, not turning away from his dishes.

“Hey,” David said, “Jason and I both offered to get you guys a new dock. One with wheels. That you can roll. That doesn’t splinter.”

Jason tossed his bottle cap at his brother. It hit David on the chest and he produced a stoic middle finger. I laughed to myself.

“You know your dad,” Patricia said, not turning around. “He doesn’t like to get new things if what he has can be repaired. And that’s what he’s got two sons for.”

“It’s fine, Mom. We’ll get her out. We always do,” Jason said. “What else needs to be done around here?”

Paul rattled off a list of projects. I saw what Patricia meant about the boys doing their own thing. They were here to work. That was fine by me. I wanted to get to know Patricia better anyway. I wanted naked baby pictures of Jason before this weekend was out.

Patricia and I served dinner like we’d been doing it together for years, plating things and chatting the whole time. I took a seat next to her at the table so we could keep talking. The meatballs were amazing.

When Paul discussed the long to-do list for tomorrow, nobody complained. Nobody cussed in front of Paul and Patricia, and Jason and David refrained from their ribbing of each other in their presence. I liked David. He worked in IT and lived in St. Paul. He didn’t come up very often, mostly holidays. He had three small kids at home and his wife, Karen, worked full-time too.

All during dinner, Paul treated his wife with a reverence that made me smile to myself. He held her hand on top of the table during dessert and kissed her on the cheek both times he got up. It was adorable. It actually reminded me a lot of the way Jason was with me. Always touching me. Always turned to me somehow.

After dinner, the men cleared the table and did the dishes while they went on about walleye fishing and some new lure Paul had.

Patricia and I had a cup of coffee in the living room while we waited for the guys to finish up. Tucker curled up between us on the sofa like he couldn’t pick who he liked better. We were both sitting with a hand on his back, talking, as the men rejoined us in the living room. David threw another log on the fire and I smiled at Jason as he plopped next to me.

“Is that yours?” I asked him, nodding at a guitar propped against the side of the fireplace.

“No. My dad’s. He plays too. He taught me.”

“And your voice?” I asked. “Who gave you that?” Jason had an impressive vocal range.

“That’s all his,” Patricia said, looking at her son proudly. “No idea where it came from. Just a God-given gift. And Jason tells us