"I've already met your parents."
"You've met them."
He laughed.
"You haven't met all of us together."
According to Derrick, every July his entire family gathered at the old lake house his grandparents had built nearly 60 years earlier.
His grandparents.
His parents.
His two uncles and their families.
His cousins.
Anyone who could make the drive.
"It gets loud," he warned me.
"I grew up with three brothers."
He grinned.
"You'll fit right in."
The lake house was even bigger than I'd imagined.
It sat on a quiet stretch of shoreline surrounded by towering pine trees.
A long wooden dock stretched into the water.
The wraparound porch overflowed with rocking chairs.
Inside, every wall seemed covered with old family photographs.
Fishing trips, birthday parties, Christmas mornings.
Generations smiling back at us.
Derrick's grandmother hugged me before I'd even stepped fully through the front door.
"So you're the woman who finally convinced this stubborn boy to get married."
Derrick sighed.
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