Chapter 6 #2
“You can call me Kiki,” Grandmother interrupts, her voice high and proper like her meticulously styled dyed-blonde hair. She gives off very esteemed matriarchal vibes.
“Or Grandma,” Eliza whispers. I nod at Kiki, yeah, probably Grandma for me.
Eliza moves on to the oldest person in the room.
She’s seated in a comfy-looking black armchair by a floor-to-ceiling glass pane.
There’s something interesting in her blue eyes, something mischievous.
Maybe it’s her big drooping smile, or the way she bobs back and forth, or maybe it’s the piece of fabric looped about her long wavy gray hair.
She screams eccentric, or maybe it’s just fun.
“This is Gran. She’s Mary-Anne’s mom, Hayden’s grandmother. ”
“Call me Gran, cutie!” she trills, repeating exactly what Eliza already said. I smile and nod, again trying not to laugh. She sounds like she might have been a smoker back in her day but managed to bypass its ills. “Or if you like, you can call me Super Old Gran like Hayden and Zachary.”
“S-super old?” I sputter. And Zachary? Is that Hayden’s brother? The one who wouldn’t come into the shop?
“That’s Randall’s fault.” Mrs. Marcus comes walking into the room, rubbing her hands on a small kitchen towel. The apron she’s wearing sashays gracefully around her hips as she steps next to her husband.
“I like it,” Gran croaks. “It’s cute.”
“And this is Mary-Anne, Hayden’s mom.” Eliza holds out her hand toward Mrs. Marcus.
Honestly, I think I’m still going with Mr. and Mrs. Marcus, but at least now I’ll know who they’re talking about.
“And I’m Holly!” The little blonde girl cuddled up next to Mr. Marcus waves frantically at me.
“Hayden’s sister.” Eliza giggles as I wave back and smile. “Thought you might already know them.”
She can’t be more than twelve or thirteen. I’ve always wanted a little sister or little brother. I’m already jealous.
“That’s everyone except Zachary.” Mrs. Marcus looks to Eliza and then me. “He’s on his way back from the hospital right now.”
“It’s wonderful to meet you all…again?” I question, hoping it might break some of the tension in my chest.
There are a few grunts and laughs while Eliza directs me around the sofa. “It helps to put names with faces. I’m sure Hayden’s mentioned at least a few of us.”
That’d be a great assumption if I were actually his enbyfriend.
I fight the impulse to puff and lower my head.
Instead I nod and smile. Looks like I’m going to be doing a lot of that tonight.
I don’t want to say, nah, he never mentioned any of y’all.
It’d be easiest, plus the truth, but it feels cheap and mean. So instead I deflect.
“Where would you like me to put these?” I hold up the plate of brownies.
Mrs. Marcus stands straighter. “Oh! You really didn’t need to bring anything.”
Eliza nudges my arm and the tiniest of amused grins slips on my face. “It was no trouble. I promise. I love to cook.”
“Now it makes sense.” Mr. Marcus, Randall, laughs to himself. “Hayden would fall for a cook.”
“I guess that’s all right then.” Mrs. Marcus laughs at him and walks over to take the plate from me. “I’ll take them to the kitchen. You sit down. Food is ready, but we’re waiting for Zachary.”
“Have a seat. Get comfy.” Mr. Marcus pats an empty spot on the smoke-gray sofa next to theirs.
There is so much room in here. Oddly, somehow, it doesn’t feel empty with all the empty space, just open and clean. Very clean. I take a seat. The stiff but comfortable leather gives under me and cradles my back.
“Thank you for having me.” I bow my head. “Y’all have such a beautiful place.”
I cross one leg over the other with my hands clasped on my knee, and I’m suddenly feeling overdressed.
Everyone else is in flannels and jeans or something casual, except Kiki, who’s sporting a fitted white long-sleeved shirt with frills down the chest. Maybe I should have asked what the dress code was going to be.
I ended up in black skinny jeans held up by a fake Valentino belt with its fancy golden buckle, and then my favorite black sleeveless turtleneck along with a set of black arm socks.
My bare shoulders are freezing, but I look cute so that’s what matters.
Plus, I need to make a good first impression here.
“Thank you.” Mr. Marcus nods and settles back on the couch. “And all thanks to the divorcees and—”
“Stop!” Mrs. Marcus grumbles as she walks away. “It sounds so bad when you say that.”
And what? Now I want to know. Divorcees? Kiki sees the confusion on my face, I guess, because she leans over and pats my back.
“Randall, Jr. here is a family and personal injury lawyer,” Kiki, or Granny, or whatever I was supposed to call her, explains. I think I know why Mary-Anne wanted him to stop now. “He uses humor to cope with all the shady lawyer junk.”
Shady lawyer junk? Okay, what have I gotten myself into? They seemed so normal at the hospital, but are they? I mean, this house is huge, it’s elegant. Hayden’s dad is a lawyer and, unless I’m taking it all wrong, shady?
“Uh…” I hesitate.
“You’re making me sound like some sleazy lawyer, Mom, come on.” Mr. Marcus shakes his head, but he’s smiling.
“Okay, he’s not that shady.” Kiki smiles at him and then me before putting her hand up, fist closed, with her pointer finger and thumb out, barely touching. “Just a little.”
Hayden’s dad rolls his eyes and sighs. “At least my work doesn’t give me back problems.”
Gramps shrugs. I’m guessing there’s something I’m not catching. Does Gramps still work? How old is he?
A few minutes go by and the conversation goes from the house to Holly’s last softball season at the middle school.
The coach at Mitchell High School is already asking about her.
I guess that’s a good sign for her. My world of sports only goes as far as spectating an occasional football or basketball game and then rallying at Cook Out until one in the morning with Kaitlynn and a horde of others from school.
“Mackenzie, tell us a little about you.” Kiki angles her head and fastens her regal gaze on me. Her words are like a refined coo. There’s something calming in them.
“Well, there isn’t much to tell.” I start off on a negative note, the way you’re one hundred percent not supposed to with your boyfriend’s family. I resist the urge to cough back an imaginary knot in my throat. “I work at the Woodsy Café.”
“In downtown? Over by The Good Hex?” Kiki questions in one of the most polite tones I’ve ever heard.
I nod. “Yep. I go to school at Mount Laurel. I root for Mitchell though.”
“There you go. That’s a good one,” Mr. Marcus roars, fist pumping toward me.
Joke is I don’t follow any sports unless Hayden’s playing. I couldn’t care less otherwise.
“Got to cheer on my—” I’m about get it out, but a voice interrupts me.
“We eating or not?” A boy I’ve only seen from a distance behind a pane of glass glides around the corner and stops between us and the kitchen.
That must be Zachary. Hold the hell up. The brother’s hot too?
Fuck my life. He’s shorter than Hayden, not like way shorter, but I’d say he’s under six foot with the same amazing eyes.
Those gorgeous smoky grays, but they’re darker and there’s a sheen to them I don’t remember in Hayden’s.
Almost a metallic gray. They’re gorgeous.
“Thank God.” Gramps fumbles out of his chair and starts past Zachary. “I was about to revert to cannibalism had your ass not shown up sooner.”
My eyes widen. Did he just say ass? In front of us? A grin sneaks across my face. I like Gramps.
“I gotcha, Gramps,” Zachary says just as his gaze meets mine and the smile lifting up his cheeks disappears.
Oh! What did I do?
“Language, Dad!” Mr. Marcus says while his dad throws a hand back. “We don’t need Kenzie thinking we’re barbarians.”
“It’s okay,” I say. This is great.
“Eh!” Gramps waves him off and lumbers on, grabbing Zachary up in a big hug.
Kiki grins at me while Mr. Marcus sighs. Focus on Kiki.
“If I’m not allowed to say bad words, then you can’t either, Gramps,” Holly whines and races him to the kitchen.
“How’s Hayden?” Mary-Anne leans around the corner as we all get up.
“Alive? I think,” Zachary says.
“Zachary Elliot!” Mary-Anne chides.
“He’s in a coma.” He shrugs. “I guess he’s good.”
Mary-Anne grunts and turns around with an annoyance-glazed smile. “Dig in, everyone.”
Gramps and Holly hadn’t waited. He’s already at the edge of the large center island with the beautiful butcher’s block top, plate in hand, scooping a generous helping of baked beans.
I glance back to get another look at Zachary.
Hayden never wore pants like that. Tight around the thighs and shaping.
Hayden’s hair is more brown. Zachary’s is nearly black and whooshed back with product, where Hayden’s bursts over the front of his forehead in soft plumes.
I overhear Catina asking what a dish near the center is, and Mary-Anne takes a quick look before saying it’s broccoli casserole.
My eyes widen and I involuntarily lick my lips.
I love broccoli casserole. I ground myself back on the food, until I spot the turkey and ham set at the start of the line next to bowls of gravy and pineapple glaze.
My mouth is watering from the smell alone.
If it tastes anywhere near as good as it all looks, I’m going to be in pain tonight.
Before I can get in line behind Gran, a spindly arm wraps around the crook of my elbow and pulls. Holly. I don’t know what to do, so I just follow. The food will still be there in another minute.
“This is Kenzie,” Holly says, presenting me to Zachary like I’m some cool animal she found outside. She looks up at me and nods toward Zachary. “This is Zach, he’s annoying.”
“I’m not annoying. You’re just whiny,” Zachary scoffs, and pokes Holly’s shoulder. She squeals playfully as he retracts and looks at me. “And I know who they are. Wasn’t hard to figure out.”