Kiara
"Cupcake, they'll be here soon!" Trey's voice calls from downstairs where the delicious smell of food permeates the house.
"Shit, I'm coming!" I shout back, quickly submitting my manuscript to my editor—the sixtieth and final book of my writing career. I decided that it's time I retire and enjoy some well-deserved adventures with my husband.

Next week we're going to Hawaii for our thirtieth-year anniversary, and the idea of peace and relaxation fills me with excitement.
As I walk through the hallway towards the stairs, I can't help but glance at the wall adorned with a collage of photos of our family. Trey and I have faced many obstacles together, but despite it all, we've achieved so much.
What did Maggie used to call us? Oh yeah...a power couple. Yeah, I think we've lived up to that nickname.
Each photo on the wall serves as a testament to our resilience and everlasting love that has carried us through every twist and turn of our journey together.
My eyes stop at the ones from our wedding, Trey and I standing in the middle of 'Lux Temptations', him in his sexy tux and me in the most beautiful dress I've ever worn. Although these pictures were taken thirty years ago, Trey appears as if he has barely aged.
He's like a fine wine, I muse, a smile tugging on my lips. Only getting sexier with age.

Adjusting my glasses, my gaze shifts to the photos of our beautiful children: Magnolia, Trey Jr, and Winston. Each frame captures precious moments of their childhood, frozen in time.
They're all grown now, leading their own lives with their families, but we make sure to all come together for holidays and special occasions. With each year, it seems our family expands with a new grandchild joining the mix. I absolutely love having our house full of children; their energy is brings me so much happiness.
In the kitchen, Trey stands over the stove, a master at work as he dips a tasting spoon into his famous beef stew. Yes, my man is known for his culinary skills in fine dining, but it's his home cooking that is truly steals my heart. I often joke that it's what keeps our children coming home time and time again.
"Almost done, Chef?" I ask with a teasing smile.

"Just about," he smirks, stirring the pot a final time. Moving towards me, he envelops me in his arms from behind and plants a tender kiss on my neck."Mrs. Thompson, would you like me to bend you over the table and fuck you while it simmers?" he murmurs seductively.
I laugh. "Later. The kids should be here any minute," I remind him.
He groans in mock frustration. "But I need it," he protests, his tone playful.
"Behave yourself," I scold him with a smile. "Besides, we still have an anniversary to celebrate tonight."
He gently lifts my chin with his finger, his touch sending shivers down my spine as he kisses me. "You're right. Thirty years later and you still steal my breath away every time you walk into the room. How is that possible?" he whispers against my lips.
His words melt me into a gooey puddle only he can create. "If you're trying to get into my pants, it's working," I murmur.
The corner of his mouth tugs into a mischievous grin. "Oh really?"
Just as our lips meet again, the doorbell rings loudly, shattering the desire building between us.
"We'll finish this later, Cupcake," he says, releasing me from his embrace so I can go answer the door. Hurrying to the entrance of our home, I throw open the door to find Violet standing in the doorway, her face lit up with a smile.
"Grandma!" she exclaims, her little arms wrapping around my legs in a tight hug. She seems to have grown so much since I last saw her a month ago.
Kids grow up so fast; mine certainly did. It feels like just yesterday when Magnolia was Violet's age, and now she's a mother to two daughters of her own.
"Goodness, you've gotten so big. How old are you now?" I ask teasingly, patting the top of her head.
"I'm five and a half, Grandma," she says proudly, holding up her fingers.
I chuckle at her enthusiasm. "Oh, that's right. I just wanted to be sure." Glancing towards the driveway, I notice my daughter and her husband still sitting in the car. "Why aren't your mommy and daddy coming in?" I inquire curiously.
She shrugs. "They said they needed a break and I can go inside with you and Grandpa."
I respond with a knowing smile. I'm sure they do.
I take her tiny hand in mine and lead her inside the house. When she sees Trey, she runs to him. "Grandpa, I missed you!"
"VioletPie!" Trey responds with equal enthusiasm, scooping her up and swinging her up into his arms. I smile at the adorable interaction, my heart warming at the bond they share.
I thought Trey couldn't get sexier as a chef, but watching him be a father and grandfather is everything. He is so kind and patient with kids, you'd never think he used to be a menace in high school.
As I glance at the clock, I realize that TJ, his husband, and two daughters should arrive soon. Winston and his wife recently welcomed a baby, so we're giving them space to adjust to their new family dynamic.
Candice and Cassie will probably be late, but they always show up eventually. As for Jeremiah, who now lives in Texas with his wife, we won't be seeing him today, but he'll most likely come down for Christmas.
William peacefully passed away in his sleep five years ago. The doctors claimed it was from a heart attack from his years of alcohol abuse, but I strongly believe it was a broken heart. Losing his wife, the third woman he loved and outlived, made him lose his will to live. Just like with Maggie, we visit his grave every year.
After Dad'a passing, right before I had TJ, Mom immediately relocated to Florida. We speak every few years, but she really has never had interest in her grandchildren or great grandchildren.
I didn't talk to Lavender for a few years after I came to her wedding and she didn't show up to mine, but after the first time (yes, the first time) she divorced Jordan, she came crying to me. Since then, she moved somewhere in France with her new husband. She calls sometimes, but only when she needs something.
It is what it is.
After everyone we were expecting finally arrives, we gather around the table to eat. "Did you finish your book yet, Mama?" Magnolia asks, devouring her favorite childhood meal.
I nod. "Yep, just sent it off to my editor."
"Grandma, can I read your new book?" Amara, her eight-year-old daughter, chimes in excitedly.
Magnolia's eyes widen and she vigorously shakes her head. She made the mistake of reading one of my books before, and I think it scarred her for life.
I choke out a laugh. "Maybe you can read grandma's books when you're a lot older," I reply with a smile.
"Or never because you'll never be the same," TJ murmurs, pretending to shudder, his remark causing the table to erupt in laughter.
He reminds me so much of Trey, it's like seeing a younger version of him. TJ has always fiercely protected his siblings, and has worked hard for everything he has achieved. He and his husband do well to support their two adopted daughters, Sun and Moon, who are eight years old.
While Magnolia and Winston are more like me. They keep to themselves but they're also assertive and don't take shit from nobody.
"How's the restaurant doing, honey?" Trey asks our daughter, his voice filled with pride.
"Good, Dad. We just finished remodeling and should be reopening next month," she answers excitedly.
He grins. "That's my girl."
You can guess who his unclaimed favorite is—the only one that followed in her father's footsteps. But, of course, he's equally proud of our boys, even if they took different paths.
"I can't believe you and Dad have been together for thirty years. I hope we last that long," Magnolia gestures towards her husband, Ramon.
"Love is a strong foundation, but don't forget you need to have trust, patience, and...be a good cook." Trey shoots me a wink. "Your Mama likes to eat."
I chuckle at his playful jab.
Yeah, and so does he.
I'm sure he'll be doing a lot of eating when we're alone tonight. That's if this stew doesn't give us both massive heartburn.
"Grandma, how did you and Grandpa meet?" Amara asks, her green eyes lit with curiosity.
Candy groans playfully. "Don't get them started," she warns.
Trey and I exchange a knowing smile before I turn back to my grandchildren, who are eagerly waiting to hear what I have to say.
Honestly, I am too because this is my favorite story to tell.
I reach for Trey's hand beneath the table, the touch of his weathered skin bringing a sense of comfort and familiarity. Gently, I stroke my thumb across his hand, tracing the lines and creases that tell the story of our years together.
With a sense of nostalgia in my voice, I begin, "Well, let me tell y'all a little story about how I accidentally fell in love with my best friend's brother."