“Pretty sure it’s more like a dozen flocks,” I said lightly.

“That house is chock full of signs of a proud, loving family,” he said, not acknowledging my comment, his eyes bursting with intensity.

The server showed up with our meals then, and I barely noticed as he grated fresh Parmesan over Holden’s. I was too busy thinking about everything Holden had said.

I was more than a little bowled over to hear his reaction to seeing the trailer up close for the first time. Bowled over and feeling chastised, even though I knew that wasn’t his intent.

My mom loved to see the rainbow of flowers out the kitchen window when she was cooking or washing dishes. I had so many memories of her tending them, up on a step ladder, either before or after a shift at her job, sometimes between shifts on a doubled-up day.

The curtains she’d sewn herself, and she took them down each season, gave them a thorough washing, then ironed them and rehung them, so they still looked good after all this time, even if faded from the sun.

And the bluebirds… there was no question each and every feather, beak, and tiny bird foot was carved out of intense love and devotion during the spare time my dad, who’d also worked two jobs for years, had very little of.

Twirling creamy noodles around my fork, I felt ashamed that I’d needed Holden to point it out to me, but he was right. If you could look past the poverty and the damage and the hard times my parents had always endured, their home was well loved. They put their hearts into it.

“Maybe you have a valid point,” I allowed. “But of all the places we could have a party to celebrate our marriage, surely that’s not where you want to do it.” I finally took my first bite and had half a thought that this was the best Alfredo I’d ever eaten.

“I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” he said. “I’m sure we could have it at the restaurant if you want to. Or any other number of places. You’re the bride.” He grinned. “That means you get to choose.”

“I hate to hurt my parents.”

“Your dad is a proud man, and I don’t mean that in a bad way.”

“I don’t want to make them feel bad. That’s never been my intent.”

I couldn’t help thinking that was exactly what I’d done by never coming home.

“Would your dad be open to me helping him with his outbuildings and maybe the stairs? That way he wouldn’t have so much work hanging over his head and the place would be party ready.”