When Dennis invited us to the family barbecue, I said “sure” out loud before I even thought twice about it.
He was my ex-wife’s stepfather. A gruff guy, the kind who wore denim year-round and called every salad “rabbit food,” but he’d always treated me decently. Even after Nadine and I split, he’d kept his distance from the drama.
I appreciated that.
So when he texted me:
Family BBQ on Saturday, Reid. Bring Elodie.”
I didn’t hesitate.
“I think it’s sweet,” Elodie, my fiancée, said, reading over my shoulder. “Maybe it’s a sign of peace.”
That was what I thought too. After all, I’d spent the last three years trying to stay on good terms with Nadine’s family. Not because I missed the marriage, we were better apart, but because I didn’t want to torch bridges for no reason.
Especially not with her stepfather, who still saw me as the guy who mowed his lawn in July and fixed his porch light when his back wouldn’t allow him to stand on a ladder.
I knew it wasn’t typical. Most people I talked to couldn’t understand why I’d still answer calls from my ex’s mom or show up to a random birthday party for her cousin’s toddler. But it was about peace, continuity.
If we could all be adults about things, I didn’t see a reason not to be civil.
So on Saturday afternoon, Elodie and I showed up with a tray of barbecued sausages, homemade pasta salad, and a bowl of creamy potato salad.
Elodie wore a yellow summer dress with sandals, her hair braided in a way that always made me smile. She was stunning.
We were ready for grilled food, light conversation, and maybe some mildly awkward catch-up chats over drinks.
We weren’t ready for what happened instead.
Dennis met us at the gate with a crooked smile and a garbage bag in one hand.
Leave a Reply