21. Home Cooking
TWENTY-ONE
home cooking
I’ve never been nervous to knock on my own front door, but here I am, shaking in my Adidas, getting ready to introduce Brianna to my mom. For some reason, my mind is spinning at all the possibilities.
Will they get along? Can my mom see past the headlines and notice the real girl who has me wrapped around her finger?
That’s the other problem—I’ve been kind of a mama’s boy most of my life, being the youngest and the only son. Moving away cut those apron strings, but I’m worried my mom will revert to her old ways. My sisters bitched about how much she babied me for years. And they were right. She did. I was so coddled I could barely do my own laundry when I moved in with Jacob.
He wasn’t much help in that department. I turned more socks pink and shrunk half my shirts before I finally figured it out.
“Zack, are you sure about this?” Brianna stands next to me, as nervous as I am.
I don’t want her scared to meet my family. She’s been afraid for far too long as it is—she doesn’t need more cause to worry.
“I’ll admit, I am nervous.” I turn to face her. “But not because I don’t want you to meet them, Bree. I really want you to like them.” I shrug.
Brianna smiles at my confession. It’s not her full smile—the one that makes her soul light up—but it’s enough. She wants this too, I can tell.
She reaches out and takes my hand.
Memories of last night flood my mind at her touch, heating every part of me. I push those thoughts aside, needing to save that conversation for later. Instead I raise my other hand to knock on the door, my gaze still locked on Brianna’s.
When the door flies open almost immediately, I whip my head around to see my sister, Mandy, standing on the other side of the threshold.
“Zack! Finally! Sheesh, that took you a while. I saw you pull up about ten minutes ago. What the heck took so long?” Mandy doesn’t bother waiting for a reply. She glances over at Brianna, one eyebrow cocked. “Aren’t you going to introduce your ... friend?”
“Dang, Mandy. Take a breath now and then, and maybe I could.”
Her glare shoots over to me. She’s always acted like my second mom. Things haven’t changed, I see.
“Mandy, this is Brianna Royce. Brianna, meet my eldest sister and general pain in the ass, Amanda.”
I fully expect a punch in the arm from Mandy at my sass, so I’m already braced and ready for it when it comes. Doesn’t hurt. Much.
Older sisters can pack a punch.
Mandy recovers pretty fast. “Nice to meet you, Brianna. Welcome to the Marin Ranch.” Finally, Mandy appears to find her long-lost manners—with no mention of Bree’s pop-star status—and steps aside to allow us in.
I haven’t been home since I moved to LA a couple years ago, but it’s exactly the same as it has been my entire life.
The house is large, taking up almost three thousand square feet in just a single story. It’s not luxurious—nothing like Brianna’s estate—but it is comfortable. The light cream walls are accented with dark wood trim throughout. It’s rustic and woodsy, a country vibe, the polar opposite of Brianna’s modern style. We walk past my favorite dark brown leather couches in the family room, worn and soft and perfect for afternoon naps. I spent half of high school sleeping on those couches with the TV on.
We continue past the dining room, trailing behind Mandy as she prattles on about whatever. I’m not really listening. Her husband must be around the ranch somewhere with my dad, and who knows where her kids are? Probably snacking in the kitchen, where my mom feeds them the sugar Mandy tries to avoid giving them.
Watching my mom with her grandkids is hilarious. She gives them whatever they want. Totally different from how she was with us growing up. But she’s always said grandkids are the reward for surviving parenthood. I guess that’s her free pass to spoil the littles and send them packing. As much of a coddled mama’s boy as I was, she never indulged me the way she does those two rug rats.
I glance at Brianna as we follow Mandy past the archway of the dining room into the large kitchen. And I see when understanding hits her. Brianna’s eyes widen at the view before her. I told her about this kitchen the night I made popcorn for the first time. Now she’s seeing it firsthand, and I can tell she’s overwhelmed. Any normal person would be, with a massive eight-burner stove, built-in griddle, double-wide refrigerator, and two enormous ovens. But like I told her that night, with six kids and a full working ranch, a massive kitchen and knowledge of how to use it is a necessity.
“We’ve got a feast cooking,” Mandy says as she steps over to a pot and stirs whatever’s inside. “Ever since you called, Mom has been prepping and baking. It might as well be Thanksgiving around here.”
As she speaks, I pause and inhale the strong aroma filling the kitchen. Spices and meat combine to make my mouth water. Food—home-cooked, amazing food—is being prepared to honor our arrival.
“She didn’t need to do all this,” I say, feeling both guilty for the work my mom put in and excited for the feast to come. I smell her roast—the one I literally have dreams about every now and then. It’s mouthwatering.
“ Yes, she did need to do all this. Look who you brought home with you,” Mandy says in a tone that implies I’m an idiot.
Beside me, Brianna sucks in a breath.
I contemplated not sharing who I was bringing home, but I’ve been in the headlines with Brianna for a few weeks. Even though I’ve avoided talking to my family about her until now, they knew something was going on. But my silence may be backfiring on me, if the look on Bree’s face is any indication.
“Oh, no, you really didn’t need to go to all this trouble. Honestly, pizza would have been fine.” Brianna sounds calm and relaxed, but I can feel her nerves seeping from her skin into mine.
I reach over and grab her by the hand again, not wanting her to worry. Kind of hard to slow that down once it starts though.
Mandy turns slightly to look Brianna’s way. “Hmm, you’ll understand when you meet Mom.” She doesn’t exactly wink at Brianna, but the look Mandy gives her is pretty much the same thing. I can’t tell whether her words are a warning or not.
Now I’m nervous. Thanks a lot, Mandy.
“Where’s everyone else?” I ask, trying to change the subject. I’m sure my other sisters will pop out of the woodwork any minute to get a look at me with a pop icon.
“Let’s see. Mom has my little two on a walk. They were driving me nuts, so she took pity and offered to get them out of my hair. Dad and Mike are rounding up some of the cattle. They should be back in about an hour. Brandi will be over for dinner. Caty and Deanna are still overseas backpacking, won’t be home until next month. And Elle is on a, quote, ‘hot date,’ according to mom. Who knows when she’ll be home?” Mandy rolls her eyes. “You know how she is. She could be on a weeklong extravaganza for all I know.” She shakes her head, still stirring whatever’s in the pot.
I look at Brianna. “I guess you’ll just be meeting Brandi then.”
Brianna’s exhale tells me her nerves have settled at this news. Five older sisters is a lot to meet. Elle would’ve talked nonstop and driven Brianna crazy with questions about her celebrity lifestyle. Mom must not have told her Brianna was coming home with me, otherwise she’d already be in Bree’s face.
“A few at a time then.” Brianna’s lips tip in a micro smile. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No, no. If I even handed you a spoon, Mom would flip out at my lack of hospitality. Zack, why don’t you take her to get settled before the masses descend on you, and you drown in hugs and questions?” Mandy brushes us out of the kitchen, so I take Brianna to the other side of the house.
“Masses?” Brianna whispers to me as we approach the hallway leading to the guest rooms. They used to be our bedrooms, but only Elle currently lives at home.
“Mandy exaggerates,” I reassure her. “Half of the family is gone. But it will be loud. And there will be hugging.” I turn back to face her.
Brianna doesn’t seem like a hugger. But she’s in the Marin house now, so I don’t think she has a choice.
“Sorry.”
“Thanks for the warning. I’ll work myself up to it.” She smiles, with a breath of fortification. “I’ll be fine. Your sister seems nice enough.”
“She is nice. But Mandy is the one with the big mouth, so she’ll let you know what she’s thinking. Brandi is the fashion queen, so she’ll ask your expert opinion on the latest trends the absolute instant she has the chance.”
Brianna sighs, taking it all in. We didn’t spend the drive talking much about my family. I think we were both nervous. It was easier to talk about the scenery and the songs playing on the radio than what we were leaving behind or what we were about to walk into. I wish we’d spent more time preparing for this now we’re here.
I open the door to the room I figure Mom planned for Brianna. It’s Brandi’s old room, closest to the bathroom. The girls fought over this one while they were in middle and high school. Mine is across the hallway—close enough, without being too close.
“This one is yours,” I say as I let her step through.
I can tell Brianna likes it right away. There’s a sparkle in her eyes as she looks around.
“Pink. Your favorite color.”
The room has the same rustic feel as the rest of the house. Dark woods, somewhat distressed and weathered, make up the majority of the furnishings. But an antique brass bed, with a handmade quilt in various shades of pink, is the centerpiece. A wreath of dried flowers hangs on the wall, and embroidered pillows are stacked on the bed. It’s cozy.
“I love it.” She speaks with reverence.
I’m really glad I brought her here. Glad I brought her home.
“I’ll get our bags. And my room is just across the hall. As usual.” I add the last line as reassurance I’m close by, but the look on her face makes me wonder if I’ve said the wrong thing. “You’ll have plenty of privacy, Bree.”
“I’m not worried about that.” She stands in front of me, but her eyes won’t meet mine. “I wasn’t sure what the ... arrangements would be.”
Oh. Flashes of our past few nights together cross my mind. Holding her close. I don’t want to let her go, sending her off to her own room. I sigh, not able to stifle the disappointment. “My mom is pretty old-fashioned.”
Brianna nods. “Of course. Right. I wouldn’t dream of insulting her.”
I reach up, caressing her cheek, “But I’ll miss you.”
Her eyes finally flash up to mine. “Me too.”
How can two little words define my entire world? I don’t know, but man, they do.