He Shelved My Designs, Then Crashed Into My Bed novel · Chapter 23 of 24

Chapter 23: Fourteen Chairs

"To the chairs," Tobin said, standing up at the head of the walnut table with a glass in his hand.

"To the chairs," said everyone, and drank.

The long dining room on Legare Street had never held so many people.

Tobin and his wife sat on the near side, flushed and sunburned from a late honeymoon.

Dell sat across from them, wedged between the bench and the wall, working steadily through his third plate of shrimp and grits.

Ward's housekeeper, a small tough woman who had been told to sit down and refused, stood at the sideboard and carved the ham.

The table was laid with every plate in the house.

And every seat in the room was a Bonneau.

"I need to say something," Tobin announced.

"No," Rett said.

"I need to say something about my best friend."

"Tobin."

"For two years," Tobin said, ignoring him, "this man has told me what he would do to the man whose house we are sitting in."

He waved his glass.

"At length. In the shower, at my wedding, on a fishing boat."

Dell snorted into his napkin.

"I held his hand through a lot of that," Tobin said. "I want it on the record that I was right to like Ward."

"Noted," Ward said.

"And I want it on the record that I've never seen anyone look at a person the way he looks at you," Tobin said.

"Sorry. The way you look at him. The way you both look at the other one. It's very annoying."

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