Chapter 25
The kitchen smelled of baking bread, garlicky tomato sauce, and anxious anticipation. The latter was Miles’s contribution to the evening’s ambiance.
He reorganized the napkins and silverware on the table three times before Charlee came over and smacked his hand.
“Stop fidgeting. You’re stressing me out.”
“I’m not—” No, he was. Denying it was a waste of air. “Let me panic in peace.”
“It’ll be fine.” Behind them, the oven hinges squeaked as his dad peeked inside. The lasagna was already out, foil-wrapped and resting on the counter. Gabriel was supposed to arrive any minute. “And if it’s a disaster, Gabriel won’t care.”
“Are you sure about that?” Miles was only half-serious.
Worries, some irrational and others frighteningly possible, whirled through his head.
That he’d throw up or pass out at the table.
That his sisters were going to act like love-struck little freaks and embarrass him.
That his parents would ask a bunch of questions and put Gabriel on the spot.
Or worse, they’d see Miles’s feelings written obviously on his face, and Gabriel would have to experience the full messy drama of an on-the-spot coming out.
“Do you think they’re… going to be able to tell?”
“Tell what?”
“You know, about me and Gabriel.” He made a vague gesture.
“I guess it depends if they’re using their eyes or not.”
He dug his elbow into her ribs. “Seriously, what do I do? Not look at him all dinner?”
“Yeah, because that won’t be uncomfortable at all. I’ll just pinch you every time you start to stare longingly.”
“You’re not funny.”
“And you’re freaking yourself out because your brain is mean and likes to torture you.” Charlee leaned in for a moment, warm and smelling sugary sweet. “It’ll be fine.
Who knows, it might even go well.”
“You don’t really believe that.”
She shrugged. “We’re off to a good start—my mom isn’t here.”
Aunt Robin had opted to spend the night in her room instead of joining them. She was doing better, but entertaining company was still too much for her right now, especially such an exciting guest. Miles was secretly relieved to have one less person gawking at poor Gabriel while he tried to eat.
“What if they don’t like him?”
“Who cares?”
He didn’t, not really. But everything would be so much easier if they did. Surely wanting that didn’t make him a bad person.
“Why isn’t he here yet?” Amy whined, coming up behind Miles. She’d made their mom do her hair earlier, pinned half-up with glittery star clips that matched her pink shirt. “You didn’t scare him away, did you?”
“Amy!” their mom chided, setting a massive bowl of salad down in the middle of the table. “Don’t be rude. You need to support Miles now that he’s making friends.”
He was really starting to wish she’d stop saying it like that, with a level of awe reserved for miracles.
“A friend he kept secret because you and Dad hate him so much,” Amy muttered.
“They don’t hate him,” Jenna pointed out as she plopped into her usual chair. Thank God she was at least pretending to be casual, in her regular paint-splattered jeans and purple hoodie. She looked like the stagehand while her twin was the star of the show. “They hate his family.”
“Don’t say that.” His mom glanced over her shoulder like she was expecting Gabriel to materialize in the middle of the kitchen. “We don’t hate him or his family, we—you know what, it doesn’t matter. Just don’t say that, okay?”
Before Amy could respond with something undoubtedly bratty, there was a brisk knock at the door.
“He’s here,” she squealed, clutching Jenna.
Gabriel wasn’t even in the house yet and they were already making Miles cringe out of his skin. It was going to be an excruciating dinner.
“I’ll get it.” He hurried from the kitchen before anyone could beat him to the front door.
His hand trembled as he opened it. “Uh, hey.” It was already dark out, the street behind him cast in shadows, the porch light bathing Gabriel in a yellow glow. “Sorry in advance for—are those flowers?”
A ridiculous question—they very clearly were. A whole bouquet of golden sunflowers clasped in Gabriel’s hand. Were they… for Miles?
Pink dusted the bridge of Gabriel’s nose, bleeding color down into his cheeks. “They’re for your mother. It was Bram’s idea. He insisted it was bad manners to show up without something.”
Of course they weren’t for Miles, what a stupid thought. Charlee was right—his brain was a jerk.
“They’re really nice,” Miles reassured him, then stepped aside so he could come in. “My mom loves sunflowers, good call.”
“They’re in season.” Gabriel shifted the bouquet to his other hand, clearly nervous, which made Miles feel better.
He’d put on his nicest sweater and a pair of dark jeans so Gabriel wouldn’t look or feel so blatantly out of place among Miles’s casually dressed family. It was the right call— Gabriel was wearing a forest-green wool knit vest over a white button-up and his usual slacks. They almost matched.
“There’s still time to run if you’ve changed your mind.”
Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “My mother is home tonight and in a terrible mood. You’re going to need to try harder than that if you want to get rid of me.”
“In that case”—Miles gestured him towards the kitchen—“sorry for my sisters, and good luck.”
His parents were trying to play it chill, his dad turned to the stove and his mom straightening the salad dressing she’d set on the table. It just meant Miles had to clear his throat awkwardly to get their attention.
“Uh, Mom, Dad, this is Gabriel.” He gestured to him with a jerky jazz hand wave and immediately regretted it. “Gabriel, these are my parents.”
“Are those for me?” Amy demanded before anyone else could speak, staring at the flowers hopefully.
Gabriel blinked. “Oh, I—”
“Knock it off,” Miles told her, as if he hadn’t almost asked the same thing two seconds ago. “They’re obviously for Mom.”
Taking his cue, Gabriel stepped forward and presented them to a surprised Sarah. “Thank you for inviting me to dinner and into your lovely home, Mrs. Warren,” he said formally. Miles would bet he’d practiced it on the way over, which was agonizingly adorable. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
It seemed they’d all collectively agreed to pretend their previous encounter at Jane Bryant’s birthday party had never happened.
“Oh, thank you. And Sarah and Adam is fine, we’re not much for formalities in this house.
” She was flustered, looking around for a place to put the flowers.
“We’re happy to have you over. Miles…” She faltered for a moment, clearly intending to say something generic, like that Miles had told them a lot about him.
“He wasn’t sure if you’d be able to make it. ”
“I’m glad I could.”
Adam appeared with a vase. “Hope you brought your appetite,” he told Gabriel, shaking his hand with an easy smile. “I made enough lasagna to feed an army.”
Ugh, he couldn’t sound like more of a dad if he tried.
“Yeah,” Charlee told Gabriel with a smirk. “If you don’t eat at least three pieces, you’ll never be invited back. We take dinner seriously around here.”
“Ignore her, she’s joking,” Miles said when Gabriel frowned uncertainly.
Miles’s dad set the vase of sunflowers on the counter, then checked the oven. “The bread just needs another minute, then we’re good to go. Charlee, will you grab plates?”
She pushed away from where she’d been leaning against the wall. “C’mon, Hawthorne, we’re on plate duty.”
He obediently followed her across the kitchen, peering into the cabinet when she opened it.
Miles’s mom nudged him. “He’s… nice.”
There was nothing wrong with the way she said it, but Miles still prickled. “He is.”
The bread came out, Adam taking it to the table as everyone dished up lasagna. Their table was too small for all the food on family dinner nights, so they always served the main course from the stove. Gabriel didn’t seem bothered, dutifully sliding a saucy slice onto his plate.
Miles steered him to the far end of the table, hoping he’d feel less cramped and less scrutinized. When Amy saw that Gabriel was sitting beside Jenna, her lower lip jutted out.
“Hello,” Gabriel greeted Jenna as he sat down. He peered at the book sticking out of her hoodie pocket. “Are you reading anything interesting?”
She went scarlet and took a gulp of her juice. “It’s about what happens to our bodies when we die. The author is a mortician, so she’s an expert.”
“That sounds fascinating.”
“It is. The chapter I’m on right now is all about flesh-eating insects.”
“Jenna has an interest in the more scientific aspects of death,” Miles’s dad told Gabriel proudly as he sat. “She devours every book she can get her hands on about it.”
Ducking her head, Jenna shoveled a steaming bite into her mouth.
“My family library has a whole section of medical and science books,” Gabriel told her, cutting his lasagna into neat pieces with his knife and fork. “You’re welcome to borrow any that interest you. My younger brother is an avid reader as well, though he usually stays in the fiction section.”
“Really? That would be awesome. I’ve already read through most that Thistle Library has, and I never know where to start online. There’re too many choices.”
“Have you looked up the FBI body farm? It might interest you.”
Jenna’s expression brightened. “What’s that?”
“Did Miles tell you we helped when you were missing?” Amy interrupted. She leaned forward, nearly dragging her hair through her dinner. “I’m pretty much the reason we found you. I bet he took all the credit, didn’t he?”
Miles and Charlee exchanged an eye roll.
Miles’s mom looked lost. “Have you all met each other already?”
Gabriel glanced at Miles, clearly unsure if he’d misstepped. He’d mentioned to his dad that Amy and Jenna were helping out; he just hadn’t given the details.
“He came over for a few minutes after the car accident, waiting for his brother to pick him up.”