Party of Four

Father’s Day - Cole

When I woke up on Father’s Day, I was surprised to discover Nica was already awake and making breakfast. That didn’t happen very often. I came down stairs to find her making omelets and hashbrowns. “Good morning,” I told her, kissing her temple before moving over to the coffee maker.

“Good morning,” she grinned. “Happy Father’s Day!”

“Thank you,” I smiled.

Riley made his way downstairs soon afterwards and shared a similar greeting with Nica. “Anything I can do to help?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Go sit.”

He and I set the table regardless. We carried plates and silverware into the dining room, followed by our coffee mugs. Nica carried the food into the room and placed the platters in the center of the table, then went back for a bowl of chopped fruit.

After breakfast, Nica brought us two bags. Our Father’s Day gifts. “Happy Father’s Day,” she told us again as she handed off each bag accompanied by a brief kiss.

Inside each bag was a set of really nice ballpoint pens and a journal. Mine gray, Riley’s black. “This is really nice, Nica,” I told her, running my hand over the smooth leather. “Thank you.”

Riley had already opened his, taking a peak at the pages, and gasped. “Nica…”

I opened mine and found the letter she’d written on the first page. I slid my glasses up my nose and blinked a few times, trying not to get emotional. A smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I read. Thank you and I love you too didn’t feel sufficient, but we both said them anyways, taking turns kissing her again.

Riley and I insisted on at least helping her clean up from breakfast. She didn’t want us to do anything because of the holiday. However, since we’d first started seeing each other, it had been an unspoken routine that whichever one of us cooked got out of cleaning. Neither Riley nor I were intending to stop that now.

All three of us were working the lunch shift, but Father’s Day was rarely any busier than any other Sunday. After work, dad planned on grilling, and we’d all hang out by the pool.

Before we left for work, Nica called her dad to tell him happy Father’s Day. She tried to sound happy while she talked to him, but I could hear it in her voice how much she missed him. Especially since she didn’t take her annual trip to go visit him this year. She’d been in the early stages of her pregnancy, still unaware she was pregnant, and thought she was sick when his birthday rolled around.

Work itself was relatively uneventful. We did get a pretty decent pop just past noon, but whether it was due to the usual church crowd or Father’s Day, I wasn’t really sure. By three it had started dying down again. Nica had finished her prep list by then too. Riley was already cut and just hanging out waiting for us.

“How much longer you got?” Nica asked, joining me on the line.

I shrugged, “I can probably get out of here a little early. Maybe in the next fifteen minutes or so. When Nate gets back I’ll ask if he’s good for me to go.”

She nodded and gave me a quick kiss to the cheek before going to the computer to clock out.

Once it was my turn, I smoked a cigarette then joined Riley and Nica at the car. The drive home was pretty typical. Nica sat in the front seat singing along to the radio. Every now and then, a song I actually liked would come on, and I’d sing along too.

“I love that you’re both so musically inclined,” Riley commented at one point as we turned onto the street Stonehaven Estates was on.

A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips. My phone pinged and I pulled it out to see a text from Ronnie wishing me a happy Father’s Day. I sent him one back thanking him while also returning the sentiment.

Back at home, dad was already grilling. He had a mix of steaks and chicken already cooking, as well as corn on the cob, and mom had wrapped some potatoes in foil to throw on the grill too for “baked” potatoes. Jay and Mallory had also brought over their signature jalapeño poppers since they knew how much Nica had been craving spicy food lately.

Nica had bought a new swimsuit since our first pool day. This one had pale pink bottoms and the bikini top was a pretty floral print cut more like a halter top than the traditional triangular string bikini. The ruffles along the bottom edge framed her growing bump, and I couldn’t help smiling when she came out of her room, ready to join my parents outside.

After we ate, we gave dad our gifts. We’d considered getting him one big thing, but hadn’t been able to find anything we agreed on that wasn’t outrageously expensive. So instead, I got him a new set of personalized pool sticks and custom billiard balls, Nica got him a bottle of his favorite whiskey, and Riley bought him a new set of paints and brushes. Now that him and mom were done with the mural in the baby’s nursery, we knew they were going to start on their guest house soon.

The afternoon heat was thick and heavy, but the smell of chlorine and grilling meats was the perfect antidote. Riley stood next to dad by the grill, loudly proclaiming that he was going to dominate the next family pool tournament.

I watched Nica, sitting on one of the beach chairs, another plate of food perched on the palm of her hand while she was locked in a fierce, silent battle with a jalapeño popper. It was one of Jay’s masterpieces - stuffed with cream cheese and cheddar and wrapped with bacon. It was guaranteed to deliver a vicious kick. Her eyes were narrowed in concentration, the red flush of her cheeks contrasted beautifully with the pink of her bikini.

“It’s not spicy enough,” she muttered, getting up to retrieve the bottle of Mallory’s homemade reaper-pepper sauce. It was the kind that needed a warning label. I watched in horror as Nica doused her food in it.

Jay looked on with a similar mixture of horror and awe. “Nica…I’m not sure that stuff is actually safe when pregnant.”

“I’m not sure it’s safe when not pregnant,” I added.

“It’s Poppy, she’s demanding vengeance on my taste buds.”

I couldn’t help smiling as she dragged a slice of grilled chicken through the sauce and ate it. With the exception of her heated skin and watering eyes, she almost seemed unbothered by the spice. I leaned back against the warm stone edge of the pool, thinking about my new journal waiting for me in my room.

The first page was Nica’s, but after that, it was mine. I could already visualize the words on the page: June 15, Father’s Day. Watching Nica eat the world’s hottest pepper like it’s a grape.

Riley was still dramatically telling dad how he was going to dominate us in pool. Even though he rarely played to begin with. He lined up his imaginary shot in demonstration. Riley has always been magnetic. He didn’t just talk, he performed. He would teach Poppy how to be loud, how to be seen, and how to tell a story.

My gaze drifted to my mom. She sat on Nica’s old futon under the shade of the patio talking to Mallory. Today wasn’t just about the gifts or the grill. It was about being surrounded by some of the people who already loved our daughter. We were protected, fortified, and utterly, perfectly messy. As Nica tossed back her last piece of chicken, I knew I had everything I had ever needed. For the first time in a long time, there was no fear of the future. No lingering anxiety. No building sense of panic or doom.