Chapter Eleven
Jude
Sunday evening, I park behind Liam’s SUV in the driveway after our shift. I’m already thinking about the leftover chili in the fridge. I’m sure Liam is way too tired to cook tonight and that’s absolutely fine.
He’s already inside the house by the time I enter. I tug off my jacket, hang it up in the hall closet, and go to find Liam in the kitchen. I expect to see him rummaging in the fridge, trying to decide what to do for dinner, instead he’s sitting at the kitchen table.
“You want me to reheat some chili for you too?” I ask, heading toward the refrigerator.
“What if I told you we don’t have to worry about making dinner tonight?” Liam asks casually.
I frown. “Are you not hungry?”
“No, I’m starving.” He laughs. “But Mom invited us over for a spaghetti dinner. You in?”
I blink at him. “She invited me to a family dinner?” That probably means my favorite person Kara will be there. I’m not sure I have the energy to face her tonight.
He must see something in my expression because he stands and approaches. “Before you say no, Kara won’t be there.”
“Really?” I frown. “Why would your mom invite me and not Kara?”
“Kara has a work thing down in Silver Creek tonight.” He shrugs. “Besides, Mom likes you. I told you that before. Figures you wouldn’t believe me.”
Something about the suddenness of this invite makes me suspicious. “When did your mom invite us?”
“A few days ago.” He avoids my gaze, suddenly fascinated by his fingernails. “On Thanksgiving, actually.”
I huff. “And you’re only now telling me?”
He finally meets my gaze, looking sheepish. “I was waiting for the right moment.”
I narrow my eyes. “I’m not buying it. You thought dropping it on me last minute wouldn’t give me time to come up with an excuse about why I couldn’t go.”
“That too.” He gives a crooked smile. “Come on. It’s just my parents. No crowd, no party. Just delicious spaghetti and good conversation.”
“I’m fine with leftovers.”
He sighs. “Oh, come on, Jude. Why the hell would you turn down a home-cooked spaghetti dinner at my parents’ house for leftovers?”
“Because I’m tired and I don’t feel like socializing.” While that’s true, a small part of me would like to go. The warmth and hospitality of his family on Thanksgiving is still fresh in my mind.
He looks skeptical and I expect him to try and badger me into going.
But instead, he leans closer and softly says, “Can’t you just taste it?
The tangy sauce? The fresh garlic bread?
The homemade pasta?” He kisses his fingertips.
“I guarantee it would be the best spaghetti dinner you’ll ever have, Jude.
And that’s not even counting the fantastic company. ”
I give a grudging smile, although I take a step back because when he gets too close, his scent makes my heart race. Since Thanksgiving, I’ve tried really hard not to get too physically close to Liam. I said way too much out on that damn porch, and I embarrassed myself.
“I assume you think you’re the fantastic company?” I ask.
“Well, yeah.” He grins. “Come on, say yes. I mean, I’m going either way. I’m not turning down a spaghetti dinner I don’t have to cook. But Mom will be sad if you don’t come too.”
I sigh. “I really am tired.”
“I know, so am I. But we need to eat.” His voice is coaxing.
I bite my lip, studying his hopeful face. “Is she going to ask me a bunch of personal questions? Is that why she invited me?”
He grimaces. “She might. She wants to know more about you.”
“God, Liam,” I whine. “I’m not good at talking about myself.”
“You did great on Thanksgiving.”
I wince. “I was drinking on Thanksgiving. Heavily.”
He laughs. “No worries. My dad will keep the vino flowing, trust me. You gotta have wine with pasta.”
“Still.”
He studies me. “Look, my mom genuinely wants you there. She’s not doing this to be polite. She’s curious about you. Nothing wrong with that.”
The thought that his mom actually wants me there, not out of obligation or pity, but because she wants to know me better makes me both flattered and nervous. “I wish people understood that just because I’m quiet doesn’t mean I’m interesting.”
“You’re interesting to me.” He avoids my gaze as if he hadn’t meant to let that slip out. “Besides, she won’t push if you don’t want to talk. Mom is tactful. Intuitive. She picked up on the fact that Kara isn’t crazy about you.”
Surprised he’d acknowledge that out loud, I laugh. “So you admit it’s true.”
“Not much point in lying about it,” he murmurs grumpily. “She’s not exactly subtle anymore.”
No, Kara isn’t subtle. She doesn’t like me, and while she’s more careful around other people, when it’s just me and her, she doesn’t hide the unfriendly glances or harsher tone.
I resent it, not because I care what Kara thinks of me, but because it wears on Liam.
It bothers him and he’s not good at hiding it.
He tries to run interference between us, but it’s a strain. He’s caught in the middle.
“Kara will be mad when she finds out,” I say quietly. “You sure you want me to go?”
“Yes,” he says without hesitation. “Kara doesn’t dictate who Mom has to dinner. Mom has had her over plenty of times.”
I hesitate, wanting to eat a delicious spaghetti dinner but not wanting to cause any friction between him and Kara.
“Please come, Jude. I want you there.”
I meet his gaze and my chest squeezes. I don’t know how to say no to him. Even if Kara hates me a hundred times more, I’m going to give Liam what he wants.
“Okay,” I say. “But I need to shower first.”
He perks up. “Me too. We’ll clean up and head over in about thirty minutes. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Once we’ve both showered and changed into clean clothes, we get in his SUV. The drive to his parents’ place takes about fifteen minutes. The road winds through dense forest, the headlights catching snowflakes drifting through the dark.
Liam seems lighter than he has in days. I wonder if part of that is because Kara isn’t going to be there tonight, but I keep that observation to myself. If he didn’t want to be with her, he’d break up with her. The fact he’s still dating her tells me all I need to know.
His parents’ house looks cozy when we pull up. Warm, golden light spills from windows, and Christmas lights are strung around the eaves. I can smell woodsmoke from the chimney before we’re even out of the car.
“Looks like Mom made Dad put the lights up already.” Liam chuckles. “She loves Christmas.”
Marco opens the door when we ring the bell, smiling. “Good timing. Your mother just said she thinks the sauce is ready.”
“Can’t wait to eat,” Liam says, stepping inside and pulling off his jacket.
Marco turns to me. “Welcome, Jude. I’m glad you could join us.”
“My pleasure, sir.”
Marco frowns. “I swear I told you to call me, Marco.”
I laugh gruffly. “You did. I’ll try to remember.”
The house smells incredible, filled with the scent of rich tomato sauce, garlic, and freshly baked bread. Liam’s mom is at the stove, stirring an enormous pot with one hand and sipping a glass of wine.
When she sees us she smiles. “You boys finally made it.” She sets her wine down and dips a spoon in the sauce. “Jude, Liam, come here. Taste the sauce and tell me if it needs more basil.”
Liam responds as if he’s used to this ritual, taking the spoon from her and licking the sauce off, but I hold back. I’m not sure I should be trusted with the task. What do I know about pasta sauce?
“I think it’s great just the way it is, Mom,” Liam says.
Viv notices me hovering behind Liam and she grabs another spoon out of the drawer. “Come on, Jude, I want your opinion too.”
With an uneasy laugh, I take the spoon and taste the sauce. The sauce is rich, deeply savory, with layers of tomato and garlic and herbs that have been simmering for hours. “Well, I’m no expert, but that tastes pretty perfect,” I say honestly.
She narrows her eyes. “You’re not just saying that?”
“No, ma’am. I wouldn’t know how to improve it if I tried.”
“Okay, well if all three of you are happy, then I’m happy.” She takes the spoon back, satisfied. “Marco, open another bottle of wine.” She gives a guilty laugh. “I think you almost finished off that other one.”
Marco chuckles. “I believe I only had one glass, dearest.”
Viv winks at me. “That can’t possibly be true.”
Liam catches my eye and grins as he grabs a bottle opener out of a drawer for his dad.
There’s something about seeing him in his parents’ kitchen, relaxed and unguarded, that makes my heart ache.
I never realized families could be this perfect.
So loving. No wonder Liam is a great person.
He grew up loved and supported. He grew up believing he could have anything he wanted in life.
I grew up thinking the odds were stacked against me, but I fought for a better life all the same.
We sit down to eat at the kitchen table instead of the formal dining room. It’s smaller, more intimate. There’s a red tablecloth and a candle flickers in the center next to a basket of garlic bread. Marco pours the wine and Liam’s mom loads my plate with spaghetti before I can stop her.
“That’s way too much,” I protest.
“Oh, nonsense,” she says, also putting two pieces of garlic toast on the edge of my plate.
I widen my eyes. “Seriously. I’ll never be able to eat that much food.”
“Don’t be silly.” She shakes her head. “You’re too thin, Jude. Do you skip meals? I’ll bet you do.”
“Mom, don’t nag him,” Liam says.
I frown, looking down at my body. “I’m not skinny. I’m a normal weight.”
She raises her brows. “That can be true. You’re skin and bones.”
I laugh. “Not really.” Yes, I’m on the lean side, but I’m not unhealthily thin.
She sighs, looking almost disappointed in me. “I guess just eat what you can.”
I don’t respond. I just stare uneasily at the pile of food on my plate. I’ll be lucky if I can make even a dent.
“Go on, don’t just look at your food, Jude,” Viv says. “You don’t want it to get cold.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I pick up my fork.