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epilogue
?. . .?
Jenny
“Mom? Dad?”Eaton calls out as we walk through the front door of the cutest little bungalow.
“In here,” a woman replies, and Eaton takes my hand and pulls me into the home.
“Do I look okay?” I ask, looking down to make sure the ruffles on my skirt are flattened. I opted for a pale yellow eyelet dress with pretty layers and a sweetheart neckline. It’s a little short to be “meet the parents” appropriate, but Eaton loves it when I show off my legs and after everything he’s done for me, the least I can do is give him this.
“Baby Cakes, you look drop-dead gorgeous,” he whispers, stopping me before we reach what I’m assuming is the kitchen, judging by the pots banging around. “Don’t think I missed the fact that you’re showing off those thick thighs for me. I can’t wait to get home and kiss every inch of them.”
He leans in to kiss me, his hands going right to my ass, but I block him with a hand to his face. “Not here. I’m meeting your parents for the first time, and I need them to think I’m a respectable woman.”
“You weren’t very respectable this morning when you gave me a handy on your knees and wanted me to go off all over your pretty face.”
“A jizz facial a day keeps the wrinkles at bay.” I grin, and Eaton groans.
“Fuck. Please don’t make me hard. My dad and Sam will never let me live it down.”
“Then stop reminding me of how much it turns me on to have your cum dripping?—”
“You must be Jenny,” a woman says, walking toward us.
Eaton removes his hands from my ass and turns us to face his mom. “Mom, this is Jenny. Jenny, this is my mom, Ima.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, holding out a hand that Ima ignores, instead pulling me into her ample bosom for a hug.
“You too, sweetheart. I’ve heard so much about you. I feel like I already know you.”
“I see you hiding, Casey. Come here and meet Jenny.” Eaton waves to a man peering over the corner.
“Finally, I get to meet the handsomest Beavers brother,” I say, hoping to make Casey comfortable, and it works. He beams at me but still keeps his distance, hiding behind his mom.
“Nice to meet you,” he replies.
“You, too.”
“Handsomest brother, huh? I thought that was me.” Another man strolls down the hall, and he’s undoubtedly Eaton’s other brother. He looks like a carbon copy of my man, only a few years younger and less blue-collar. Instead of worn jeans and a blue Carhartt T-shirt like Eaton, Sam has on slacks and a button-down. In his defense, his sleeves are rolled, and the top button is popped.
Next to him is another slightly shorter man with black hair that partially covers one of his eyes and looks hella cool. He’s wearing a black band tee and tight black jeans that only add to his rocker image. I can just picture him playing the guitar and singing some emo tune.
“Jenny, this is Sam and his husband, Bryan.”
Surprisingly, they both give me a hug, just like his mom did. I immediately feel welcome as we make our way to the open kitchen, dining room, and family room. The original copy of the Beavers man stands and grins down on me. He’s a silver fox, and there’s no doubt Eaton will look just like him in twenty-five years.
“Jenny, this is Seymour, my dad. Dad, this is my fiancée, Jenny.” The room collectively gasps, including me, because I didn’t think we were going to tell them that little tidbit the first time I met his family. I expect all hell to break loose and for everyone to tell Eaton what a fool he is, but instead, another round of hugs and congratulations is unleashed.
Once things settle, we’re led to the dining room, where we have a delicious dinner. Eaton’s family is just like him, big, loud, and pushy. Well, everyone except Casey and Bryan. Instead of trying to get a word in or arguing that we couldn’t eat another bite, the three of us created our own little island and talked amongst ourselves. It’s tons of fun, and I can tell I’m going to enjoy being part of this family.
After dinner, Eaton takes my hand, wanting to show me his childhood bedroom that his mom hasn’t yet gotten around to turning into her dream library. Walking around the space, it’s like a time warp back to an era I wasn’t part of. Next to a tower of CDs is a desk with an ancient looking CD player sitting on it, skateboard decks hang on the walls between photos of Eaton with his friends, and his bed is made with a blanket in an awful shade of purple.
“Your hair.” I giggle, pointing to a picture. The hair on top is longer and parted in the middle, the sides are cut around his ears, and then it appears to be longer in the back, too.
“Don’t laugh at me,” he says, pulling me into him. He slips his hands under the skirt of my dress and palms my bare ass. “Love it when you wear thongs.”
“Eaton! Your whole family is just down the hall,” I whisper-shout.
