Blissed (Misfit Brides #1) by Jamie Farrell

he told himself.
    “You stay married thirty-four years, you don’t have to prove who’s got the bigger balls. Just take it for granted she does.” He swayed on his stool, then emitted a giggle.
    With all those sisters, CJ knew a thing or two about giggles. Knew a thing or two about fast drunks too. “Those nachos?” he called to Huck.
    The old man pointed to the kitchen. “Can’t hurry good food. Keep your pants on.”
    Arthur’s head dipped, and his goofy grin swung a one-eighty until CJ thought the dude might cry. “I shouldn’t have yelled at her.”
    More guilt welled up in CJ’s chest. “They forgive us, man.” He hoped.
    “Not Karen. Natalie.” Arthur waved his shot glass at Huck. “It’s hard on her, being on that committee. She’s doing the best she can. Doing better than I could, even with her circumstances. I knew it, and I yelled anyway. She should’ve told me how bad things were.”
    CJ swallowed hard. “Women make us crazy.”
    Seemed appropriate. And safe.
    “Me and Karen, we were going to retire in another five or ten years and go see the world. Sell the shop. Didn’t think Nat wanted it anymore. But now Karen’s gone, and I thought Nat was fitting in. I can’t—I wasn’t—I can’t sell it. That shop and our girls—they’re all I have left of her. Can’t win today. Just can’t win.”
    They sat in silence until Arthur slanted an almost passably sober glance CJ’s way. “You gonna play in the Games?”
    “Not likely.”
    “Supposed to tell you it’s good publicity for the town.” Arthur wobbled on his stool, his voice wobbling with it. “Marilyn says we’re showing our best colors when we honor a war widower. Tell you what, though, if I play, I’m gonna kick your ass.”
    No doubt most of the whole town could. “Thirty-four years, was it?” CJ said.
    “Thirty-four years. Damn good years.”
    “Eleven months for me, and she was deployed three of those. You tell me, who’s a better representative of what marriage is all about?”
    Arthur swayed. “Was she your everything?”
    For a while.
    Until he screwed it up.
    “Don’t tell anybody I told you this, because it’s bad for business,” Arthur said, “but the only thing that matters is that she’s your everything. The wedding, the legalities, the rings, the dresses and cakes and Games don’t add up to a hill of beans. If you loved her with all your heart and you honor her memory with how you live your life, she was your everything. If not, get the hell out of my town.”
    CJ eyed his Jameson.
    “Thirty-four years, she was my everything. But it doesn’t mean shit, because I wasn’t a big enough man to teach my daughters that lesson.” He pointed a finger at CJ. “One day, son, you’re gonna find yourself your everything. When you do, you tell her. And then you make sure you live it. Live it every day.”
    The big dude slid a heaping plate of nachos between them. Arthur dug in. “Good nachos. Should come here more often.”
    CJ wished he’d stayed with the squawkers. He hadn’t been Serena’s everything. And it was too late to fix it now.
     

Chapter Four
     
    N ATALIE HAD THOUGHT multiple brushes with death-by-mortification were the worst part of her day, but living through Noah’s meltdown over her not-as-good-as-Grandpa’s reading of How I Became a Pirate took top honors.
    As if she hadn’t had enough reminders today that she was a failure. She needed one last kick from her four-year-old flesh and blood.
    He had finally settled down, and she’d snuck back into his room to snuggle him until he drifted off in the middle of singing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” to himself. It would’ve been so easy to stay there with him, listen to his soft breathing, and let his snug body warm her chilled soul.
    But she had a clandestine meeting about Golden Husband Games security to arrange with the Bliss Chief of Police, a handful of e-mails to answer from concerned Husband Games vendors who hadn’t seen