♥ Caleb ♥
The bar was quieter than it had been all month. No carols, no crowds, just low music and the smell of fried food. Shane sat at our usual table, beer in hand, and he grinned when he saw me.
“Look who survived,” he said. “To post-Christmas recovery!” he added as he held up his jug. I clinked my jug against his before I slid into the seat across from him. “So, how was it?” he asked curiously.
“Good,” I said. “Loud with my side, calmer with Amy’s,” Shane’s expression softened at the mention of my wife.
“How is she?” he asked. “And the peanut?”
“Tired, but ok,” I answered. “Still queasy. We keep staring at the ultrasound photo like it might vanish,” just then, Aiden slid into the seat across from us with a tray.
“I ordered wings,” he said. “And far too many napkins. Lance is
