50. Coraline
50
CORALINE
“Remember, we don’t have to stay long.”
“You mentioned that once or twice,” Jasper murmurs, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth.
“And my brothers will probably be dicks, but it’s not personal. They’ve played the big brother cards to everyone I’ve ever dated since I was in high school.” I worry the inside of my cheek, anxiety swirling around inside me.
“I’m not worried about your brothers,” he reassures me with a soft chuckle.
“And I’m sorry if my mom is quiet but in that almost rude way. She doesn’t mean to be, she just doesn’t want to get attached to another fling .” I use air quotes around her verbatim response when I told her I’m bringing Jasper to Sunday dinner.
“Baby, it’s fine.” He palms my leg, his thumb brushing along my outer thigh.
“I know, I know,” I say with a grimace. “I can’t believe I brought up he who shall not be named . I’m so embarrassed about that— not that I’m embarrassed by you. Oh god—what am I doing? Let’s just turn around and go home. Or to the movies. Yes, the movies. We haven’t been to the drive-in yet. That sounds like a much better way to spend our Sunday, right?—”
Jasper pulls his truck over on the side of the road. He turns toward me, slipping his hand to the back of my neck and plants his lips on mine. Effectively stopping my little spiral.
I let myself fall into his kiss, only pulling back after a few minutes. My lashes are slow to lift, his mesmerizing eyes the first thing I see.
“I’m sorry I’m acting so weird,” I murmur.
“Don’t be sorry, baby. I’m not going to embarrass you, so don’t worry about that okay?” His gaze darts between my eyes, his brow furrowed.
I surge forward and grasp his forearms, holding him to me. “Jasper, no . That is not what I meant. I am not embarrassed by you.” I pause, swiping my tongue across my lips. “But I am worried they’re going to embarrass me. On purpose and on accident, depending on who’s there.”
He drags his nose alongside mine, his lashes fluttering closed. I sink into the sensation, trying to absorb the chill by osmosis.
“You’re perfect, Coraline Carter. And one dinner with your family won’t change that.”
I tilt my head and brush my lips along his in a kiss that’s so achingly sweet, it makes my heart hurt.
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
With a sigh, I settle back into my seat as Jasper pulls the truck back onto the road. The rest of the drive to my parents’ house is spent listening to one of his playlists. There are a lot of songs on it that I recognize, so I find myself zoning out to the familiar lyrics. His hand never leaves my thigh, and I’m more grateful for that silent support than I think I even realize.
As we pull into the driveway, I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the inevitable chaos that awaits inside. Jasper gives my thigh a gentle squeeze before stepping out of the truck and coming around to open my door.
Hand in hand, we make our way up the front steps, the dessert I made in Jasper’s other hand. Before I can even raise my hand to knock, the front door opens and my father greets us.
“Cora!” He steps onto the porch and wraps me up in a hug.
I untangle my hand from Jasper and return his embrace. “Hey, Dad.” I pull back and gesture to the man next to me. “This is Jasper. Jasper, this is my dad, Lucas Turner.”
Jasper and my dad shake hands, murmuring their hellos.
Dad opens the screen door and gestures for us to go inside the house. “Well, come on in. Your mom’s already setting the table. Ooh, did you bring me something new today, Cora?” His eyes light up when they land on the covered pie dish in Jasper’s hand.
“She made key lime pie cheesecake.” Jasper stands a little taller, a proud smile playing on his lips.
“Sounds delicious, sweetheart,” Dad says, closing the door behind us quickly. And right on cue, he says, “We don’t want to let the air out.”
I get it though. Mom and Dad like it arctic temperatures in their house, and during summers, their air conditioning is working overtime.
Dad steals Jasper into conversation, leading him to the dining room. I trail behind them, watching the way my dad introduces Jasper to everyone like he’s his guest and not mine.
“I see you brought a date,” Beau murmurs, coming to stand next to me.
I arch a brow and toss him a prim and proper glare. “I see you brought a date.” I slide my glare to his childhood friend, Mason, who’s chatting with Mom.
Beau snorts. “Yeah. About that. I think Ma had some kind of misguided match-making illusions about Mason and you tonight.”
“What?” My mouth drops open. “But I told her weeks ago that I was seeing someone.” Hurt simmers inside my chest,
Beau shrugs. “You know how she is about Mason though. She’s probably just trying to make him a permanent part of the family or something. I don’t fucking know,” he murmurs quietly. “She probably needs another hobby or something.”
“You mean besides meddling in her children’s love lives?” I deadpan, rolling my eyes.
Beau tosses his arm over my shoulders with a chuckle. “C’mon, sis, I told you what worked for me.”
I shrug his arm off, my mouth flattening and brow arching. “I’m not going to let Mom walk in on me having sex with my boyfriend, Beau. Gross .”
He laughs, his eyes bright with humor. “I didn’t let her do it, Jesus, Cora. But she did walk in our house unannounced that day, and she hasn’t tried to set me up with her plant friends’ daughters anymore. So,” he says, shrugging and looking entirely too smug. “I’d say it worked out nicely.”
“Alright, everyone, let’s take our seats,” Mom says, clapping a few times to get everyone’s attention. “Time to eat.” She looks around the room, her cheeks rosy and her smile wide.
I catch Jasper’s eye, nodding toward the seats in the middle of the table. He strolls over, his ever-present smirk on his handsome face. We sit down next to each other, and I lean over, murmuring, “What were you and my dad talking about? He was using big hand gestures, which is usually reserved for only a handful of things.”
Jasper puts his right arm around me, leaning in and murmuring, “We were talking about your desserts, baby. He was telling me about some Black Forest volcano fudge thing that he swears you can’t tell is dairy-free.”
My heart swells at his words, a lump forming in my throat. I glance over at my dad, who's busy piling food onto his plate, completely oblivious to the impact of his casual praise.
"He really said that?" I ask softly, my voice thick with emotion.
Jasper nods, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on my shoulder. "He went on and on about how talented you are, baby. Said he's never tasted anything like your desserts before, and that he's constantly blown away by your creativity in the kitchen."
I blink back the sudden tears, turning my face toward Jasper to give myself a moment to collect my emotions.
“So it seems like I might have competition as your biggest fan,” he muses.
I huff a laugh, but it’s all watery. I brush my lips across his stubbled cheek and murmur, “Thank you.”
He lowers his voice, our conversation quiet in the din of everyone chatting. “You can thank me later.”
“Thank you again, Mrs. Carter, for inviting me tonight,” Mason says, pulling me out of my Jasper-haze. He sinks into my sister’s empty chair.
Worry for my sister worms its way into my good mood, and I make a promise to myself to call her soon.
“Oh, please, Mason. I’ve told you to call me Hazel. You and Beau used to be thick as thieves, you’re like family. I’m just so glad you’re back in town now,” Mom replies with a grin. Her gaze darts from Mason to me before sliding to the man next to me. She hums a little under her breath, and I hate the way my chest pinches at the sound.
I’m twenty-eight years old and still, one small noise of derision from my mother sends me back decades. I fiddle with the edge of the embroidered white tablecloth. Indecision holds my tongue hostage.
Beau catches my eyes, raising his brows as if to say, See? I told you.
I roll my eyes in response and help myself to the food laid out on the table.
“Alright, everyone. Let’s eat! But don’t forget to leave room for dessert. We have dilly bars!” Mom crows with a clap of her hands.
“From The Dairy Scream?” Graham asks, his eyes lighting up just like they’ve always done when it comes to dessert.
“The very one.” Mom nods, her grin wide on her face. “I had your father stop in Avalon Falls to get them this afternoon. That way we didn’t put Cora out, you know. Give her a night off.” Mom looks over her shoulder as her palm rests on my forearm. She gives it a gentle squeeze, the smile lines around her eyes deepening with her grin.
I set my fork down against my plate, the delicate clink sounding almost hollow. “I made vegan key lime pie cheesecake with homemade whipped cream for tonight.”
“Did you sneak anything else in there, honey?” Mom asks, a teasing lilt to her voice.
“My sister’s a rogue, so proceed with caution, man,” Beau says,
“Oh yeah?” Mason asks, looking from my brother to me. “Why’s that?”
“She loves to experiment with random, weird shit and call it dessert . I swear she lives to trick all of us every week,” Beau says with a laugh.
“Her treats are usually delicious. But finding out you ate beets and zucchini and Aquaphor after you have a belly full of brownies does something to a man, yeah?” Graham chimes in, grinning.
“Aquafaba. Aquaphor is ointment.” I clear my throat and pull my arm from underneath my Mom’s grip. My fingers tangle together on my lap, safely away from any prying eyes. Not that anyone is paying attention to me. No, they’re all having a good chuckle. About me. Or my baking, it seems.
Jasper’s hand covers mine in the next breath, his palm large enough to engulf both of mine.
Beau looks at me, winking. “C’mon, sis. You have to admit, you color outside the lines.”
“The goat cheese ice cream was one of the most . . . memorable of our girl’s desserts,” Mom says with a slow nod.
“Hey, I liked those,” Dad interjects with his face tilting toward his plate, his focus on scraping every last bit of potato from it.
“Yes, well, you’ll eat anything, dear,” Mom says with a chuckle. Her face softens as she looks across the table at my father.
“Anything my daughter makes, you’re too right, Hazel,” Dad says, lifting his face to wink at me.
It’s a little reassurance, and I appreciate it. But I wish I didn’t need it at all. It’s a weird juxtaposition really. Feeling so insecure about this specific skill when it comes to my family, but feeling the complete opposite around literally everyone else.
“I’m sure it’s all good,” Mason says. He flashes a half-smile around the room.
“You’ll be alright with the store-bought dilly bars,” Graham says. “At the very least, it’ll be better than?—”
“I thought the Carters were different.” Jasper’s voice carries, the deep tenor cutting through the chatter. The hair on the back of my neck stands to attention as the energy shifts in the room.
Beau pulls his gaze from his friend, a chuckle still on his mouth. “What’s that, man?”
Jasper’s thumb brushes against the inside of my wrist. The soft touch pulls my gaze to him, to the frown marring his face. I’m not used to seeing him with anything but that perpetual grin. Sometimes it’s larger, oftentimes it’s mischievous. But right now, there’s nothing but disappointment and a little bit of contempt dripping from those perfect lips of his.
“The Carters are old guard in Rosewood. Almost founding families but not quite. You can’t walk ten feet without bumping into someone who has nothing but glowing things to say about the Carters, especially the matriarchies. But this?” Jasper shakes his head, a lock of hair sliding across his forehead. “This is bullshit.”