Chapter 15 #3
Theo brought me to meet his family? It has me questioning many things, especially since we agreed to cool things down after our tongues were just down each other’s throats. I’m not here to question his method however. What I am questioning is everything about myself.
In my twenty-eight years of life, nine of those spent dating an array of men, I’ve never met a significant other’s family.
While at first glance I might seem like a good candidate to bring home to meet the parents, as soon as I open my mouth everything changes.
Pair that with the fact that I don’t come from a normal upbringing, I come from a very dysfunctional family of one parent and no known siblings.
Which means I have no clue how to navigate normal family logistics.
Stepping into that house will feel like the equivalent of crossing into alien territory.
He begins to take the first step up, while I stop dead in my tracks on the sidewalk. He notices I’m not beside him anymore and turns around. “Marley?”
“I can’t meet your family.”
“How’d you even know this was their house?” he asks, surprised.
“I’m a girl, Theo,” I say, crossing my arms. “I solve much tougher cases on a daily basis, thanks to my unparalleled skills in deductive reasoning and expert-level social media stalking. Also, the framed picture of your family in your living room may have helped.”
He stares at me like he’s not sure if I’ll mentally detonate on the steps of his parents’ home. At this point, I think I might.
“We don’t have to go in,” he reassures. “But if it helps, you probably fit in better with my family than I do.”
“I find that hard to believe. Have you met me? I have verbal diarrhea on the constant.”
“I know.” He grins. “It’s one of the things I like most about you.”
For fuck’s sake, he had to go and say that. Now, I’m a puddle of mush on the front steps. I take a big breath in and start toward the stairs because, despite our agreement not to take this further, at this point, I’d make a total and utter fool of myself, so long as it meant he’d be impressed.
We climb the stairs together, shoulder-to-shoulder. It feels vaguely familiar to a death march.
Thinking he’ll knock first, I stop at the front door, rising on my toes nervously as I wait. But he pulls out his keys and unlocks the black door that’s entirely surrounded by a row of small windows. As soon as it swings open, I can hear a shrill of excited screams running closer.
We’ve barely stepped over the threshold before a woman, in her late sixties, with a short gray bob and thick black-framed glasses shuffle-runs to Theo, throwing her arms around him.
“My baby boy, I’m so glad you’re here,” she exclaims, squeezing him so tightly that you can hear the exertion in her voice.
Then she turns to me, jaw dropping as she grabs my shoulders. “And wow, aren’t you gorgeous. You must be Marley. I’m Celia. It’s so nice to finally meet you.” She pulls me into a big hug, as we rock side to side. “Thank you for putting up with my son. You, ma’am, are an absolute saint.”
“It’s not easy, but someone’s gotta do it,” I tease, glancing at Theo while I’m still entangled in the world’s longest, most motherly embrace that has ever existed.
He narrows his eyes at us. “You know I’m standing right here?”
Spinning toward him, his mom waves him off. “Oh please, you’re self-aware enough to know that you are difficult to work with.”
Quickly admitting defeat, Theo nods, shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe a little.”
Holden strides into the room, a half-eaten roll in one hand and a bottle of sparkling water in the other. “Mar-eo, what’s up?”
“What’s a Mar-eo?” I immediately ask.
“I don’t even want to know,” Theo mumbles beneath his breath.
“I combined your names into one. Every couple around here gets one. That way when we’re texting, I only have to type out one name versus two. It’s a real time saver.” He finger guns me, with a wink, while Theo runs a hand down his face, clearly already on his last nerve.
“And do we still get the honor of a combined nickname if we’re not … together?” I ask.
Holden rubs his chin, considering this. “I’ll make an exception. It’s only a matter of time, after all, anyway.”
“A matter of time before what?” Theo asks.
Holden points toward us. “Before you two get together.”
I glance over at Theo to find his cheekbones growing pink, as his mother wiggles her eyebrows excitedly at the prospect of anything more.
I’m beginning to see why he knew I’d fit in. We’re all a nosey, lovable bunch.
A woman around my age walks into the room. She’s undoubtedly a Prescott, with a dark head full of wavy hair, thrown up into a high ponytail, big hazel eyes widening like she’s walking into something juicy.
“Hi, I’m Eliza. The sister of these two weirdos.” She steps forward, immediately pulling me into a hug. “Come on in, we just ate but haven’t put the food up yet. We can make you a plate.” She winks. “It won’t be burnt either.”
We follow everyone down the hall into the combined kitchen-living room space. Trailing behind, Theo leans in to whisper, “See? Nothing to worry about. They already love you more than me.”
His breath tickles my neck, and goose bumps rise on my arms in response. Acutely remembering how that same mouth was all over my neck one hour prior.
“How much did you tell them?” I ask. “About us.”
“Nothing,” he immediately replies. “Only that I burnt dinner.”
When we exchange a look, we see the memory written all over each other’s faces. It’s clear I’m not the only one thinking about it. At this rate, I think I’ll be replaying it constantly in my head for the next fifty years.
Entering the open and airy kitchen, I find one more Prescott sibling sitting at a rectangular table. The man is leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, built like a lumberjack. Thick cords of muscle popping from his forearms as he stares at us beneath the brim of his hat.
What kind of deal with a sea witch did the Prescotts make for these children? They’re all gorgeous.
“Well, look who decided to show up,” the other brother says. “It’s been a while, Theo. Finally decided to grace us with your presence?”
Theo walks up to his brother, flicking the brim of his hat, causing it to flick upward. “This asshole is my other brother, Grant. Grant, this is Marley.”
From the table, Grant wordlessly nods his hello. From what Holden has mentioned, he must be the other recluse brother that lives near the edge of town.
I feel vaguely like a fish in an aquarium, on display, with a full debrief of who I am while not knowing a thing about the people in front of me.
Either Theo or Holden must have been talking, which I don’t mind at all, I only want to know what they said.
Because with the way all five of them stare at Theo and me, acting as if we’re about to announce an engagement, says a lot.
Celia hands us each a round white dinner plate and tells us all about the various dishes lined up on the counter—chicken cordon bleu, roasted potatoes, a fresh green salad. His family leaves us to pile our plates full, while I take the opportunity to interrogate Theo.
He’s reaching for a piece of chicken when I lean in and whisper, “How does your family know who I am?”
The tips of his ears turn pink. “You’ve been mentioned.”
I nudge his arm with my elbow, the spoon he’s holding, rising a few inches with the action. “Did you tell them I stole mints? Or that I was poor and you hated me?”
He stops scooping and turns to look at me. “I’ve never hated you.”
“It kind of seemed an awful lot like hatred,” I counter.
He pauses, releasing a slow exhale. “You scared me.”
“I scared you?”
Never in a million years would I have thought the stoically intimidating Theo Prescott would be scared of little old me. I’m about as terrifying as a baby quokka wearing a bowtie.
He passes me a serving spoon, and our fingers brush.
“You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before,” he explains, dropping his voice quieter. “It made me … on edge.”
Before I can ask what the hell that means, his sister strolls over, snatching a potato straight out of the tray and popping it into her mouth.
She chews, swallows, then points at me. “You two are coming to my housewarming party next month.”
“When she says housewarming, she actually means a rave-like event that will piss her new neighbors off,” Theo remarks.
She picks up another potato and throws it at his shoulder.
“Pretty sure you’d classify a night at the opera as ‘rave-like.’ It will be classy, with a charcuterie board and glass cups and everything.
” Looking right at me, she pretends her brother is not even standing there.
“I know this type A avoidant won’t come on his own accord. I was hoping to win you over instead.”
I smile. “Well, how could we possibly turn down a good charcuterie board?”
Her face breaks out in a huge grin. “Right? It’s the adult equivalent to a Lunchables.”
Turning to leave, she pats Theo’s shoulder and not-so-subtly whispers, “I like her, bro. Don’t mess it up.”
Theo and I eat, while I listen to his family banter back and forth. It feels like a new level unlocked to see this side of him that relentlessly teases his siblings or protectively asks his sister about the asshole ex-husband she apparently has.
I’m not used to this big, happy family dynamic. People who linger at the table just to talk, like being together is reason enough.
I’m used to splitting a chicken tender meal with my mom on paydays, then sitting in front of the TV alone while she locked herself in her room to drink or get high.
In search of a restroom, I wander down the hall, looking at the various frames lining one side of the hallway.
Pictures of ski trips, and them as children, standing next to horses, or covered in sand and running from the ocean waves.
Group shots and individuals. Photo after photo of all the Prescotts.
Happy, content, not a single want in the world.
It’s a life I had always dreamt of having when I was a child.
I notice, though, that around a certain age, maybe sixteen or so, Theo stops smiling.
His smile, at one time, was full-on, crinkling the corners of his eyes.
Then altogether, it stopped. And two family members suddenly vanish from the photos.
The same little boy and father, who have their photo hung on a wall of their own, hugging and smiling directly into the camera.
The boy with big brown eyes and sandy blonde hair hanging down past his forehead.
Then there’s their father, who is a spitting image of Theo—blue eyes, the same ocean shade, thick dark hair.
There’s a small table directly beneath it, filled with puffs of orange and white flowers, a well-loved teddy bear, and more collages of the boy and father.
I’m studying a photo of the younger boy, standing on Theo’s back in a creek, when a gentle voice from behind me says, “That’s Carson.”
I jump what feels like ten feet in the air, frightened by getting caught snooping.
Spinning around, hand clasped to my chest, I see Celia at the end of the hall.
As she stares at the picture of Carson, her lips curve up with memories of the young child.
It’s evident it holds the weight of both love and loss.
“He’s beautiful,” I whisper back. “He looks so happy.”
Her feet pad down the hallway, until we’re standing side by side. She takes a shaky inhale, before slowly exhaling a slow, centering breath. “I’m not sure if Theo already told you, but his brother Carson passed away at the age of four.”
My stomach drops to the floor. I had heard bits and pieces of information surrounding his father’s death, but no one had ever mentioned his brother. Perhaps it was wordlessly off-limits, too sacred to be gossiped about.
I’ve had to live through a hell of a lot, but I didn’t have to live through the death of a sibling. That’s a completely different, unimaginable type of loss.
“I’m so sorry,” I breathe. “I had no idea.”
Theo had never talked about him before, but that’s not out of the ordinary. He doesn’t even mention his three other living siblings.
“I’m not surprised,” Celia replies. “He doesn’t like to talk about it.”
There’s a whole lot more to the story, but it feels like an invasion of privacy to pry further. If he wanted me to know, he would’ve mentioned it. Until then, it’s not my place to weasel my way in and find out. That epiphany alone has me feeling like a real-life grown-up.
As she begins to walk past me, she stops and pats my forearm, her large metal rings cool against my skin. “I feel like I should be thanking you. I haven’t seen Theo happy like this in ages. I’m glad he has you.”
He’s spent more years carrying the weight of loss than living without it. I can’t rewrite that kind of pain. But if I can give him one reason to believe in something good again, then maybe I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.