Chapter 45
ISAK
I park and walk up to my house with Lachlan following close behind.
“You sure she’s fine with an extra mouth to feed?” he whispers, before I open the door.
“I’m sure.”
“And you’re good with, you know, me being there as your boyfriend?”
I stop and turn, checking out his face. I want to reach out and touch it, but we’re in view of his house. “Hey, you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
“It’s not that. I’m excited. I never thought I’d be able to have a boyfriend in front of anyone I knew.”
“My mom focuses on what matters: love, health, and spending time with each other. She supports us being together.”
He blinks and shakes his head, like he can’t believe it. “Okay, if you say so.”
I smile. “I do.”
We walk into the living room and can see Mom in the kitchen. I’d texted her to confirm it was okay if I brought Lachlan home, and of course she’d said yes.
“Hey, Mom? I’d like you to meet my boyfriend.” A zing skitters across my skin at the word.
Lachlan Doyle is my boyfriend.
She turns around with a grin. “Hey, Lachlan. Nice to see you. I hope you’re hungry. We’re having my special baked macaroni and cheese—and a salad and some vegetables, because I’m a mom.”
His shoulders relax, and he exhales. “Sounds great. Can I help?” he asks, giving her the grin I used to think was his flirty one. But now I know that’s just how he is.
“You stay there,” she says. “I’m happy to do this.”
“Are you sure?” I ask. “We don’t mind helping you cook.”
“Go relax,” Mom says, waving a hand. “Watch something.”
Lachlan settles on the couch, gingerly at first. After a moment, though, he leans back and stretches, and his gray T-shirt rides up, exposing smooth skin, his hoodie falling down his shoulders.
I inhale sharply and bite my lip. Then I sit right next to him, cuddling close. He wraps an arm around my shoulders, and I burrow into his zip-up hoodie.
He sighs happily. “What was that movie you were talking about a while back? The French one?”
“Purple Noon.”
“Can we watch that?”
“Sure.” I cue it up.
Mom slides the casserole dish into the oven, then wanders into the living room.
“You can come watch with us,” I offer. I know it’s weird to want to hang out with my mom and my boyfriend, but I’m okay with that.
“Thanks, but I’m going to go read a book,” she says. Which isn’t surprising. Mom would rather read a book about 100 percent of the time.
The second she slips into her bedroom, I turn to Lachlan. I take his face in my hands and kiss him. After a startled moment, he kisses me back.
I whisper against his lips, “I don’t think she’d care if you kissed me in front of her.”
“Really?”
I nod.
“I do like kissing you,” he admits.
We snuggle on the couch, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
The thing about foreign films, though, is that if you kiss too much while they’re on, you miss reading so many subtitles that you get pretty lost as to what the story is about. I’ve seen this enough times that it isn’t an issue for me, but I think Lachlan will be lost.
He doesn’t seem to care.
Mom comes back after a while, checks the mac and cheese, and says it needs another ten minutes.
She glances at us, and I think Lach’s straining a muscle with how he’s not moving from where I lie sprawled against him. I kiss him lightly.
There.
His cheeks go very pink, but he seems to relax.
I dare to look over at Mom, who’s smiling. “How’s the movie?” she asks.
“It’s interesting,” Lach says. “Very stylish.”
“I know, right?” She starts pulling out plates from the cabinets.
“You sure you don’t want us to set the table?” Lachlan asks, shifting next to me.
“Nope. I got it.”
Lachlan wants to be polite. He wants to feel useful. I stand up and hold out my hand to him, and he takes it. “We’ll help, Mom.”
Together, we set out dishes, silverware, and napkins. When we finish, I smile at him. He glows. Then he tugs me to him, my back to his front, and wraps his arms around me as he buries his face in my neck. I melt into him. He’s warm and comforting and sexy.
Mom sees us and smiles.
Lachlan’s showing me affection in front of someone who knows us both and supports us being together.
It’s everything.
Here in our little dining room, Lachlan’s the most animated I’ve ever seen him.
Like he’s absolutely ecstatic to sit at a beat-up wooden table with my mom and me and eat mac and cheese and salad off Fiestaware plates and dissect a movie that came out before any of us was born.
It warms my heart. He keeps gushing about how good everything is.
He’s so damn cute, but I feel a deeper pang.
This is the only thing I think he’s ever wanted: to feel like he’s part of a family that loves and accepts him.
“Mom?” I say, swallowing my last bite of salad.
“Yeah, Schmoopy?”
I turn my head toward Lachlan and then look at her. “Lach and I are going to prom. Not together-together,” I add. “We can’t show everyone everything.”
She looks somber, but nods.
“Anyway, can you help us find tuxedos?”
“Absolutely! How exciting,” Mom chirps.
“What kind are you thinking?” Lachlan asks me.
“Classic, definitely. What about you?”
“Yeah, same.” His eyes get a faraway expression. “You’re going to look great. Our last hurrah as seniors.”
I nod.
“What are you doing after graduation, Lachlan?” Mom asks.
“I’m going to Albrecht College.”
“That’s great. What are you going to study?”
“I’m not sure. Something in liberal arts. Maybe creative writing or a language. I really like words.”
“Lucky I’m going to college in Santa Barbara, too,” I say.
“Cool,” he says faintly. But his face flushes, and I can tell he’s pleased.
A knock on the front door startles us. Lachlan leaps out of his seat like he’s done something wrong.
I get up to open the door, smoothing my hair as I go. Lachlan is doing the same.
His mom is standing on the porch. “Hi, Ms. Doyle. How are you?” I say.
“Is Lachlan here?”
“Yeah. We were just finishing dinner,” I say.
“Okay.” She peers around me and addresses Lachlan. “I was wondering if you were going to come home.”
“Sure, Mom.” He gives me a wary look. “Thanks for dinner, Ms. Hammond,” he calls.
From the other room, Mom replies, “Lachlan, how many times do I need to remind you to call me Rochelle?”
“One more.”
Mom comes into the living room and stops when she sees Kylene. “Hi,” Mom says slowly. “I invited Lachlan to eat with us.”
“That’s good,” Lachlan’s mom says vaguely.
After a brief pause, Mom asks, “Would you like to come in?”
“No, no, I just …” Kylene shakes her head. “It’s time for him to be home.”
And it’s all the awkward. Lachlan gives me a little wave goodbye, and then they’re gone.
I look at Mom. I think we’re both wishing they could have stayed.