Chapter 24 #2
I smile when I see Nate’s name on the screen, though. “Hi,” I say, drifting around the table and standing in the very corner of the room. I have to raise my voice a bit, because it’s loud in here.
“Hi,” Nathan says. “I was calling to see how everything is going. How’s Mom?”
I make a noncommittal sound.
Nate gives a knowing hum. “Yeah. And are you still sleeping at the shop?”
“No, I found somewhere else,” I say. Then, before he can ask where exactly I’m staying, I move on. “But your timing is impeccable. I am about to begin a dinner with Alvina, her new boyfriend, and her new boyfriend’s family,” I say in a low voice.
“That sounds like a nightmare,” he responds, but his voice is perfectly cheerful. He has the luxury of cheerfulness—he’s a million miles away with his girlfriend.
I glance around to make sure no one is nearby before speaking again. “I think I’m suitably prepared, but you never know with Alvina, so please wish me luck.” I pause. “Or if you have any teleportation technology up your sleeve, get me out of here. That would work too.”
Nathan laughs. “No teleportation on my end.” Then, more serious, he goes on, “But get out of there if you need to, Reese. I mean it. Don’t let her walk all over you.”
It’s a conversation we’ve had before, but I sigh. “Yeah,” I say, and even I’m not convinced. “Well, I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“Good luck, little sis.”
My lips twitch at this. “Thanks, old man. Be safe.”
He lets out a snort of laughter, and we hang up. I do feel better, though, having talked to him.
I turn around and head toward the tables stretched with food, tucking my phone back in my pocket. I’m stopped in my tracks, however, by my mother, who appears in front of me with a plate of food.
“Here,” she says, holding it toward me.
I blink at her, confused. “What—for me?”
“Of course for you,” she says, waving the plate at me. But her impatience is laced with uncertainty, with hesitation I don’t understand as she smooths her free hand over her hair and fidgets with her earrings.
I think…
I think she’s trying to be a proper mother right now. Is that what’s happening here?
But what else could this be? The way moms get food for their kids in buffet lines; the way mother birds regurgitate worms for their chicks to digest.
“I—” I begin in a stilted voice. Why do I feel so weird? “Thanks.” I take the plate in a kind of haze, barely looking down at it before I make my way to the table where Daryl is already seated, an open seat for Alvina on one side and Rosie on his other.
Dominic is already there with his food, his earlier smirk gone. He’s across the table next to Rosie, and I nod when I see his brows raised in question.
I don’t know exactly what he’s asking, and I don’t know exactly what I’m answering, but the moment makes sense nonetheless.
His presence is grounding, and my body eases into the seat next to Alvina’s rather than folding in robotically.
My mother settles next to me in a cloud of perfume and jingling jewelry, and I lean away to give her more room. Then I pick up my fork and look down at my plate.
Salad of some kind, with dried cranberries and sunflower seeds, and two pieces of turkey.
I swallow uncomfortably and remind myself that what’s important is Alvina tried. I guess she doesn’t know I really don’t like turkey—I never have. And I’ll still be hungry when I’m done, but I can get up and get more.
So this is fine. The salad will probably be good, too. I don’t mind dried cranberries.
I stab a bite of lettuce onto my fork and pop it in my mouth, chewing determinedly and looking around the table. When my eyes find Dom, though, my chewing pauses; he’s staring at my plate with a look of disgust, his lips curled, his nose wrinkled.
I swallow my bite slowly and look down at my plate too, checking to see if there’s a bug. But there’s not—just the turkey and salad.
His eyes jump to mine, his shoulders slumping as he sighs. Then, shaking his head a little, he grabs his plate and slides it toward me.
I stare at him. Rosie and Emma stare at him, too, both of their hands stilling on their utensils.
But Dominic doesn’t pay attention; he just gestures impatiently for my plate, pushing his own further in my direction.
There’s a roll on that plate. Fried chicken. Some sort of casserole that looks delicious—and a slice of pumpkin roll.
What follows is a completely nonverbal conversation. I shake my head a bit—I’ll eat this and then go get more of what I want.
A more enthusiastic push of his plate toward me by Dom, accompanied by the tiniest eye roll—You don’t even like turkey, Berkeley, and you love pumpkin desserts. Come on. Take it.
A more significant shake of my head and a knot in my throat that Dom can’t see—I’m FINE.
Dom’s jaw twitches, his lips setting in a firm, determined line. Then he stands up, removes my plate from in front of me, and sets his own in its place.
Even Daryl and Alvina notice this; Alvina looks scandalized and Daryl confused. But Dom just spears his fork into one of the slabs of turkey and brings it to his mouth, taking a giant bite and staring me down as he chews.
“So,” Rosie says—beautiful, sweet, tactful Rosie—“there’s a great turnout, huh?”
The spell over our table breaks as Emma nods vigorously. “Everything looks great,” she says, tucking some of her short auburn hair behind her ears. Then she gestures to a bowl in front of her—butternut squash stew, I think. “This soup is delicious.”
My body slumps with relief as Dom’s sisters take over, and I think I’ll be sending them both giant gift baskets very soon. I dig into my food and take deep breaths, trying to figure out why I feel like crying; when I’ve finally calmed down, I shoot a glance at Dominic.