Chapter 38
THIRTY-EIGHT
RAY
Tucker hasn’t left my side in a week.
I love how much closer we’ve gotten, how he opens up without hesitation, how he wants to spend all his time with his dad. What worries me is how skittish he is around other people now.
We met up with Jordan at the skate park yesterday. Tucker had been so excited to see them. The entire drive there, he spoke animatedly about all the things he wanted to try on his skateboard. But when it came time to hang out with Jordan, Tucker’s hands started to shake. His smile was all wrong.
I told him we didn’t have to stay. We would come back another day.
But Tucker wasn’t having it. He vehemently shook his head. “No. I have to do this.” His voice had been so stern, determined.
I didn’t have it in me to insist otherwise.
The entire hour, he was glued to Jordan’s side. They talked, skated, and sat on a bench for a bit.
It warms my heart to know Tucker feels safe with Jordan. That he has someone other than family, Kaya, and a therapist to speak with about what worries him. He is braver than I ever was at his age.
“Do I have to wear this shirt?” Sour expression on full display, Tucker tugs at the stiff, snugger-than-he’s-used-to-wearing sleeves of his button-down. “It’s so itchy”—he scratches the nape of his neck—“and tight,” he whines.
“You don’t have to wear it,” I say, and he sags in relief. “But I’d like you to.” I fasten the last button on my own shirt and sit on the edge of the bed. “Come here. Let’s see if I can help.”
He shuffles forward with a hint of hope in his eyes.
“Hold out your arm, bud.”
He does as I ask, and I unbutton the cuff. One flip after another, I roll up his sleeves until they are just beneath his elbows. Then I reach up and pop the top two buttons at the collar and relax the cotton away from his neck. With two simple adjustments, his entire frame loosens.
“Every once in a while, we have to put on a dress shirt and look extra nice.” I smooth my hands over his shoulders. “Especially when we want to impress people.”
His brows drop down and scrunch together. “What does impress mean?”
I run my fingers through his curls, fix a few wayward locks, and make a mental note to get it trimmed soon. “Impressing someone means you put in extra effort to look nice or do something special for them. You want them to remember how handsome or thoughtful or wonderful you are after spending time together.” I study his quizzical expression. “Does that make sense?”
Eyes narrowed and lips puckered, he slowly nods. “I think so.” Softening his features, he adds, “You want Miss Kaya’s family to like us.”
“Yes, bud.” I roll up my sleeves to match his. “I want them to like us.” More than anything.
Since the start of my culinary career, my primary objective has been to deliver the best dish possible and make a lasting impression on the recipient. Others’ approval has been a top priority more years than not. The pressure to be perfect is nothing new.
But I’ve never had to impress others—definitely not a girlfriend’s family—with only my personality.
When Kaya said her family wanted Tucker and me to join them for dinner, an unexpected surge of adrenaline flooded my bloodstream. Meeting the parents is a big step in any relationship. Granted, because our families are prominent figures in Stone Bay, the Imalas and Calhouns are somewhat acquainted… in a generic, impersonal way.
Tonight’s dinner will shift the dynamic, hopefully for the better. Regardless, I want Kaya’s family to like us, accept us, and know we’re worthy of her affection.
I asked if I should make something for dinner, and Kaya said her family had the meal covered. My skin crawled at the idea of walking into her family’s home without an offering. Food is my default but not an option.
So when Kaya left for her place after lunch, Tucker and I dashed to the florist and created the perfect thank you arrangement. Vibrant peach and yellow roses, bold orange ranunculus, dark-pink camellias, blossoming succulents, sprigs of lavender, and a soft bed of moss in a rustic wooden box. Beautiful and breathtaking yet unique and modest.
“You ready to go?” I pocket my wallet, phone, and keys.
Tucker rushes out of my room and across the hall. “Just a minute.”
As I reach the stairs, he sidles up to me, a toy fire truck in his hand.
“Where’d that come from, bud?” I’ve seen the fire truck a few times but have yet to ask where he got it.
He hugs it to his chest as we descend. “Miss Kaya gave it to me at school.”
I stay quiet until we reach the bottom of the stairs. “That was nice of her. It’s a cool fire truck.”
With a little bounce in his step, he walks ahead of me for the door leading to the garage. “It’s special,” he says, his voice full of wonder. “When I have a bad day, I share my secrets with it.” His lips twist. “But sometimes, I just take it with me. Like a friend.”
Speechless, I mentally fumble over what to say. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable by not responding. But I also don’t want to say the wrong thing.
“Well, I’m glad you have it.” I unlock the car and open the door for him, feeling like I should say more but have no idea what. So, I stay quiet.
Tucker bops his head to a few songs on the way to Kaya’s house. As I park in her driveway, she steps onto the porch and locks the front door. Tucker flies out of the car while I take my time grabbing the floral arrangement.
A low groan rattles my chest, my dick straining against the zipper as I swallow at the sight of her. Hair down and in loose waves, it cascades over her breasts and a very revealing, formfitting sleeveless black top, the point of the V at the base of her cleavage. High-waisted khaki pants hug her middle and flare wide on her mile-long legs, sweeping the ground. A large turquoise pendant rests beneath the hollow of her throat, her bead and bone cuff bracelet secured on her wrist.
Without effort, Kaya robs the air from my lungs and ruins me for any other woman. How I went half a lifetime without her, I’ll never know. But damn, am I grateful and honored to have her now.
Slipping my arm around her waist, I lean in and whisper in her ear. “You look incredible.”
She clutches the side of my pant leg. “Thank you.” Inching back, her fiery irises peek up and lock onto my gaze. “If it’s okay, I thought we’d walk to the main house.”
Tucker takes her hand. “Lead the way, Miss Kaya.”
Weaving through the trees, Kaya guides us along a foot-worn path. Our fingers laced, I take it all in.
Crisp pine mingles with the salty breeze from the bay. Birds chirp in the distance while chipmunks forage on the forest floor. Sunlight filters through the tree canopy, a soft glow on our skin and surrounding woodlands.
I love how the Imala family has gone out of their way to preserve as much of the land as possible. With one large home in the center of the property and several smaller homes scattered throughout, they’ve kept most of the estate as it once was—trees and earth. In a world full of concrete jungles and noise, it’s lovely to see places such as this still exist. It’s peaceful, energizing, a way to reconnect with nature and reset.
The trees thin and open to a two-story home constructed of wood and stone. Large windows frame much of the south wall—an open deck on the second floor and covered patio beneath, spanning the entire side. Roughly twenty feet of cut grass surrounds the house, but the remaining exposed land is beautified with ponds, a grand firepit, and lush gardens.
My heart is in my throat as we walk between two large vegetable garden beds and I glance toward the house, an older man sitting in a chair on the patio. From here, it’s difficult to read his body language or expression. For all I know, the man could have a smile on his face. Either way, it wouldn’t ease my nerves.
I strengthen my hold on Kaya, and she gives me a gentle squeeze in return.
“There she is.” The man rises from his seat as we approach, a warm smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes. “My favorite irngutaq .”
“Grandchild,” Kaya translates a beat before she steps into his open arms. It’s easy to see his embrace is soft, loving, everlasting. The kind you want more of. When they break apart, Kaya introduces us. “Ray, Tucker, this is my ataatasiaq , grandfather, Nanook Imala. Nan for short. Ataatasiaq , this is Ray and his son, Tucker.”
I shift the arrangement and offer my hand. “Wonderful to meet you, Nan.”
His weathered, calloused hand is warm, his grip firm yet full of tenderness. “Nice to see my Kaya with a caring man.” The affectionate comment catches me off guard, but before I can ask how he knows what type of man I am, he pulls Tucker into a hug. “And what an honor it is to meet you, young Tucker.” The soft lines by his eyes deepen as a fond smile brightens his expression.
The way he speaks to and of us, it’s as though we’ve been a part of his life for years. It assuages my unease, makes me feel more welcome than I anticipated.
Nan releases Tucker and meets Kaya’s gaze. “Everyone’s inside and eager to meet these two.”
Kaya inhales deeply and nods. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”
I love that she is as nervous as I am. It says she cares about us and how her family will receive me and Tucker.
We follow Nanook inside and I am struck speechless at how open and alive the home feels. Wood and stone repeat throughout the interior, pops of color on the walls from simple yet powerful pieces of art. Pleasant neutrals and earth tones given more life from the natural light streaming through the windows.
“This place is dope,” Tucker whispers.
Kaya and I chuckle.
“Yeah, bud, it is.”
When we reach the dining area, I stop breathing. In the heart of the room—and the house—is a lengthy, live edge table with several chairs tucked underneath. It’d be a tight fit but could easily seat more than a dozen people. Most would look at it and complain about how such a large table shrinks the room. To me, it’s a warm, inviting space that keeps everyone connected.
Food is my passion, but having an appealing, welcoming place to share it is equally important.
Lost in thought, I fail to notice the turn we take toward the kitchen, blindly following Kaya’s lead. When my attention snaps and focuses, I momentarily stumble, lost for words once more.
Mesmerized, I scan every inch of the kitchen. No shiny top-of-the-line appliances that look unused. No pristine countertops covered with perfectly placed pictures, books, or gadgets. And no aesthetically pleasing, pointless trinkets.
A dusting of flour, sporadic baskets, and heaps of vegetables take up much of the counter surface. Mouthwatering herbs and spices float through the air. The distinct sound of a knife rocking against a cutting board hits my ears. Generosity, mirth and deep affection radiate from the walls.
With only what it needs and nothing more, the kitchen is the core of this house. Pure love. The place where Kaya’s family shares a piece of their heritage and soul.
I never want to leave this kitchen.
“ Panik ,” Sakari Imala says as she rounds the long island.
“Daughter,” Kaya translates. “Hi, Mom.” Their embrace is as warm as the one Kaya shared with her grandfather. “You remember Ray Calhoun.”
“Of course.” Sakari turns toward me and gives an unexpected hug around the arrangement. Inching back, her attention shifts to the other side of Kaya. “And you must be Tucker.” Bending at the knees, she makes it so they’re eye level. “I’ve heard many wonderful things about you. Nice to put a face to the name.”
My ribs constrict and steal the air from my lungs. An unfamiliar reverence blooms beneath my sternum, the whoosh, whoosh, whoosh of my heart pounding in my ears.
Kaya talks with her family about Tucker.
Damn, do I love this woman.
Sakari introduces Ahnah and Liuna, Kaya’s grandmother and great-grandmother. I present them with the arrangement then offer to help in the kitchen. When they wave me off, I ask if they mind me watching them cook.
Kaya leans in and rests a hand on my shoulder. “Will you be okay if I show Tucker around?”
I lay my hand over hers and twist to meet her shimmering gaze. “Absolutely. You have no idea how much I love to sit and learn.”
With a squeeze of my shoulder, she releases me and chuckles. “I’m sure I can guess.”
The moment Kaya is out of earshot, the three women begin their interrogation. I expected nothing less. Just wondered who’d ask all the questions. Turns out, they share the duty.
“How long have you been a chef?” Ahnah asks as she forms dough into small cakes.
“I got my culinary degree ten years ago but have loved being in the kitchen since I was a kid.”
Ahnah smiles, then sets some of the cakes in a large skillet over a low flame.
“How have you managed working such strenuous hours with a young child?” Sakari adds minced garlic and ginger to a meat mixture and folds it in.
“Tucker was with his mother for several years. When he came to live with me, it was an adjustment, but my family and I made it work. And since the summer cooking school was a success, Chef Beaulieu announced I’ll be head of year-round cooking classes. The change will give me more time with Tucker.”
“What are your intentions with our Kaya?” Liuna lifts the lid on a large pot, stirs the contents, tastes the broth, then adds a pinch of salt.
“I am very much in love with her.”
All three women stop what they are doing and turn to look at me, a mix of joy and surprise on their faces.
“Have you told her this?” Ahnah flips over the cakes in the pan.
“I have, yes.”
Ahnah’s brows lift as her eyes widen. “And… what did she say?”
Kaya’s grandmother has the type of energy that makes me want to smile all the time. “She hasn’t said it back, which is okay. When she’s ready, she’ll tell me.” I press a hand to my chest. “But I know how she feels.”
“Kaya is very passionate and headstrong. As stubborn and unmoving as a mountain”—Sakari leans in and talks softer—“which is what her name means.” Sakari fills wonton wrappers with the meat mixture, spoons on a small amount of fish roe, pinches them into pouches, and puts them in bamboo steamer basket trays. “Until you and Tucker came along, all she cared about was work.”
“When you love what you do, it’s hard not to put all of your energy into it,” I answer.
Until a few months ago, I didn’t want to change my ways either. I love being in the kitchen. I love taking simple ingredients and making a masterpiece. But most of all, I love hearing and seeing people’s reactions to my dishes. Their praise and admiration fuel my soul.
But I’m excited for the next leg of my journey. Thrilled to discover a new love for food by teaching others.
“True,” Sakari says as she stacks the trays over a pot of boiling water. “But I’m happy she’s on a more balanced path now. You’ve given her that, and I thank you.”
Once again, I’m struck speechless. Thankfully, the awkward silence doesn’t last long.
Kaya and Tucker return and the conversation shifts. She sidles up to me and wraps her arms around my waist from behind. “Did they ask all the invasive questions?”
I rest an arm over hers and chuckle as Tucker plops down on the seat to my left. “Not all of them, but plenty.”
“Sorry,” she whispers.
“Don’t be.” I caress her skin with my thumb. “I expected it.”
Kaya releases me and joins the three women on the other side of the counter. She plucks a handful of berries from a bowl, picks up an ulu, and slices the fruit. She works with the crescent-shaped knife as if she has done it thousands of times. Once all the berries are sliced, she adds them to a casserole dish, squeezes fresh lemon juice on top, and sprinkles them with a heavy amount of sugar—no measuring.
Watching her is enthralling. How she moves with such ease. How she makes baking look sexy as fuck.
Is it like this for her with our roles reversed? Because I definitely want to watch her in the kitchen a hell of a lot more.
She takes some of the remaining dough her grandmother used for the cakes and adds it to the top of the fruit. As she wipes her hands on a towel, she peeks up at me from beneath her lashes. “Quit staring,” she mutters, the corners of her lips twitching up.
“Not a chance, Fire Eyes,” I say nowhere near as quietly.
She rolls her eyes then steps away with the casserole dish, puts it in the oven, and removes a sheet pan with huge dill-coated salmon filets on cedarwood.
My mouth waters.
Everything other than the large pot’s contents is added to serving platters. Kaya goes to the fridge and pulls out a salad that must’ve been made before we arrived. Dishes get carried to the table and set in the middle, and I take one without asking, wanting to help.
Other family members appear out of nowhere. Hugs and greetings get exchanged, then we all take a seat. Tucker keeps to himself unless someone speaks directly to him. But he doesn’t appear overstimulated or panicky.
Plates and bowls are filled and Kaya relays to me and Tucker what’s on tonight’s menu. Bannock—a bread that can be eaten with savory or sweet dishes or on its own. Ground fish, shrimp, and goose wontons. Bison stew with root vegetables. Slow-roasted cedar plank salmon.
Tucker picks at his food until he decides he likes all of it. I love his adventurous spirit.
Conversation erupts around the table, everyone sharing details of their lives since their last gathering. I anticipate more questions, maybe from Kaya’s father or brother, perhaps an uncle, but am asked none.
When the oven timer goes off, Kaya excuses herself. As she enters the kitchen, her mom meets my gaze from the other end of the table and raises her glass.
“Thank you for joining us, Ray and Tucker. We all see how much light you’ve brought into Kaya’s life. It overjoys us to see her so happy.”
Kaya takes her seat next to me and mutters, “Mom.”
Sakari carries on. “We’d love to see you both more often. During family dinners or nights when our schedules align.”
My heart rattles my rib cage as emotion clogs my throat. “Tucker and I would love that very much. Thank you.” The underlying anxiety I had about Kaya’s family accepting us fades more and more with each kind sentiment.
“But we’d like you to take it slow,” Sakari adds. “Get to know each other better.”
I wring my napkin in my lap as my unease slips back in.
Kaya sucks in a sharp breath and gingerly sets her fork down. “We’ve spent the last two months getting to know each other. We have taken it slow.”
I mentally tip my head side to side. Kind of slow.
“For someone who was adamant about not being in a relationship, your sudden shift on the subject is interesting.” Sakari takes a sip of her drink. “I just want you to be careful, panik .”
Kaya’s shoulders relax as her expression softens. “When have you ever known me to be anything other than cautious?”
Tikaani takes Sakari’s hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “She’s right, my sweet. We must trust her instincts and let her walk her own path.”
Sakari purses her lips then sighs. “Yes, I suppose we should, aakuluk .” She lifts her glass once more, this time higher and toward the center of the table. “ Inuuhiqatsiaq ! Cheers and to good health!”
A mixture of inuuhiqatsiaq and cheers erupt around the table before we all take a drink. Dessert is brought to the table and devoured faster than the main meal.
The second the cobbler hits my tongue, I tell Kaya she is in charge of dessert going forward. She simply laughs.
After a long line of warm embraces, we wish everyone a good night and take the path back to Kaya’s house, the fading sunlight illuminating the trail.
“That went better than expected,” she says as her house comes into view.
“I like your family. It’s good of them to ask or say all the hard things. Means they love you.” I trail my fingers down her arm and lace them with hers when I reach her hand. “What’d you think, T-Man?”
“Your family is lit, Miss Kaya.”
“From dope to lit. Oh, how we evolve,” I say on a laugh.
Kaya leads us to her front door and unlocks it. “Be right back. Need to grab my bag.”
As Tucker opens the car’s back door, Kaya steps out with a stuffed tote. I stow it in the back seat next to Tucker then slip into the driver’s seat.
The miles fly by as we head to my house. But before I turn off Fossil Mountain Highway, Kaya takes my hand and twists in her seat to face me.
“You know we can go at whatever pace we want, right?”
I flip the blinker on, ease off the accelerator, and press the brake. “Of course, Fire Eyes.” I turn onto the road for the Calhoun estate and keep my speed slow. “It’s not something we’ve talked about, but I’m open to it.”
She stares out the windshield, contemplative a moment. “Yes, we still have a lot to learn about each other. But the same can be said for people who’ve been together years.” Her eyes are back on my profile. “I just don’t want someone to mold our relationship according to their ideals. Does that make sense?”
I bring her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles. “Makes perfect sense.”
Pressing the button for the garage door, I steer the car inside and put it in park. Tucker bolts from the back seat and runs inside the house. He’ll probably have a movie queued up and a handful of snacks ready by the time we walk through the door.
“I feel like we’ve gone slow enough,” Kaya whispers into the dark. “I’m ready to go a little faster.”
My pulse thrums in my ears. “You’ll have to guide me, Fire Eyes.” I lean over the center console and kiss her. “My version of fast probably looks different than yours.”
Cupping my cheek, she softly strokes my scruff with her thumb. “I love you, Ray.” She presses a chaste kiss to my lips. “You and Tucker. Don’t know who I’d be without either of you.”
Dopamine hits my bloodstream in a rush. I frame her face with my hands and take her mouth in a fevered kiss. “I love you, too.” I drop my forehead to hers and bask in the swirl of energy between us.
A thunderous boom from inside the house garners my attention. Probably an action movie playing through the speakers, but you never know.
“We should get inside before he eats his weight in sugar.”
Kaya chuckles and reaches for her bag in the back. “Yeah, we should.”
At a leisurely pace, we enter the house and go about our nightly routine. After a quick change of clothes, we’re on the couch, movie ready, and in one big snuggle with Kaya at the heart.
Life may not be perfect, but this is as close as it gets. All I need is right here. So long as I have Tucker and Kaya, I have everything.