31. Chapter 31 – Clay
D ad and I puttered around the kitchen, starting holiday prep while my mom and Lucy went to yoga.
We prepped and chopped, listening to NPR, each focused on our individual tasks.
At lunch, we drove to town and met up with Lucy and my mom at the fish and chips place on Spring Street.
Maybe it was my imagination, but my mother seemed slightly more relaxed.
I hadn’t pulled my mom aside yet, but it was important to me that she give Lucy a chance.
I didn’t want my wife and my mother at odds.
Not just because I loved them both, though I did, but because the idea of always having to stand between them made my chest tight. I wanted us to be a family. I wanted them to like each other. Hell, I needed it.
“Mom, do you want to come home with Dad and me? I can give you a ride, let Lucy get some work done.”
“Didn’t you want me to spend time with your new girlfriend?”
I bit back the urge to correct her. Lucy and I had decided to wait to tell my folks about our engagement until Thanksgiving. Give them time to get to know her first, even if it was only a couple of days.
“I’ll bring her home safe and sound later this afternoon,” Lucy said. “I’ve got a little project in mind that she can help with at the studio.”
“See? Settled,” my mom said.
I kissed Lucy’s cheek and watched them walk away, tension riding my shoulders. I wanted to believe it would be fine. I just wasn’t sure I did .
“Don’t worry, son. I can tell how much you want them to like each other. Your mom can be a tough nut to crack, but it’s a good sign that they’re both eager for more time together.”
“If you say so.”
I immersed myself in holiday prep, glancing up at the clock in surprise when Lucy called from the front door, “We’re home.”
Wiping my hands on a kitchen towel, I joined them in the living room. My dad had long abandoned me, choosing an afternoon nap over more time as my sous chef. Lucy looked tired, but not upset. My mom’s face was serene, giving away nothing.
I leaned in, dropping a quick kiss on Lucy’s mouth. “Good day?”
She nodded. “Yes. Your mom is a natural.”
I winked at my mom. “Must be all that hot air.”
She tilted her head, her gray curls bobbing gently against her cheek. “Be careful, Clayton Carlton Robertson. It’d be more gentlemanly to chalk up how easily I learned to Lucy’s skill as a teacher.”
Lucy snickered, turning her face into my shoulder. “He’s always been like this, hasn’t he?” she asked, laughter laced through her voice.
My mom sniffed, then smiled—just barely. “Oh, worse. You’re seeing the grown-up version.”
“This is grown-up Clay?” Lucy asked, mock-horrified. “Yikes.”
“You see my concern,” Mom deadpanned, arms crossed but eyes glinting.
“I’m right here,” I muttered.
They ignored me.
“You’ll learn,” Trish said to Lucy, voice dry. “The trick is to let him believe he’s in charge, then do whatever you were going to do anyway.”
Lucy bit her lip, clearly delighted. “That’s... excellent advice.”
“I need to change,” my mom said, pivoting toward the hallway, “and then I’ll be ready for dinner. Don’t let him weasel out of cleaning up his mess in the kitchen.”
“I won’t,” Lucy promised.
Her nod in Lucy’s direction came with a faint smile, like she was pleased to have someone else to boss me around for once.
***
Lucy wandered into the kitchen Thanksgiving morning, sliding her chin onto my shoulder and hugging me from behind as I sauteed leeks for the stuffing.
“That smells amazing. I think we’re going to have food for an army. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Not bring up boxed mac and cheese?”
She snorted. “Whatever you say, Clayton Carlton.”
I reached back, pinching her gently below her ribcage. “Just remember, we’re telling them today, then calling your family.”
“Don’t remind me.”
I flicked off the burner, pivoting to face her. Lucy stood barefoot, pink-painted nails sticking out from beneath the frayed hem of her jeans. She’d chosen a soft blue sweater that made the golden flecks in her brown eyes pop. Her pink mouth hovered somewhere between dismay and worry.
I tilted her chin. “Hey. I love you. It’s going to be fine.”
“Says the man who gets to meet his in-laws via video chat, where there’s a mute button.”
I held up my palm. “I solemnly swear that we’ll go meet them in person at Christmas so they can vet my intentions and roast me properly.
” I gathered her close. “Relax, Luce. I am confident my folks will love you. Maybe not as much as I do, because that simply isn’t possible, but they’ll get on board. ”
She snuggled beneath my chin, her cheek across my heart. I held her, savoring her warm weight in my arms. I could stand like this forever. Let the whole kitchen burn down around me.
“Do you want to hang out with me here? Help me cook?” I asked.
Lucy leaned back, examining my expression. “You really do love me.”
“That’s what I’ve been telling you.”
“Yeah, but I know how important today is. And you know what a disaster I am in the kitchen.”
I chuckled. “I’d eat burnt toast and peanut butter and jelly today if it’d make you happy.”
My mom walked in on the tail end of my claim. Her eyes widened, expression blanching. “Oh my god, you’re getting married.” She turned, calling to my dad. “Carl, get in here. Clay has something to tell us.”
My dad shuffled in, coffee mug in hand. “What’s going on?”
Mom crossed her arms over her chest, staring me down, her expression enigmatic.
I’d had a whole plan. Easing them into the idea with food and the liberal application of wine.
Not getting caught flat-footed in the kitchen.
I tucked Lucy under my arm, taking strength from her stout presence beside me.
My fiancée wasn’t a fading flower, and I’d been making my own life decisions for years.
I didn’t need my parents’ approval, but I wanted them to welcome Lucy into our family with at least a fraction of the excitement I had for our future. She deserved that.
“I knew I wanted to marry Lucy the moment I met her.” I glanced down at her fondly. “She took some convincing, but I chased her until she caught me.”
My mom squinted. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“It means that I proposed, and Clay said yes.”
My dad’s face broke out in a pleased grin. “Congratulations to both of you.”
My mom glowered. Not at Lucy. At me . I rubbed my chest as if that would stop her disapproving laser beams from penetrating my chest and turning me to dust.
“Clayton Carlton Robertson, I thought I raised you better.”
“You raised me perfectly.”
My mom and Lucy snorted in tandem. I held back a grin. Disapproval shadowed my mom’s features. Only the underlying hint of humor kept me from second-guessing the way I’d blurted out the news. I’d had a plan. She’d ruined it.
She sighed, the heavy gust filling the room. She turned to Lucy. “I’m sorry, dear, you deserved better.”
“Hey,” I retorted, wounded. “You’re supposed to think there’s nothing better than your baby boy.”
My mom pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re usually so confident, Clay. I can’t believe you let your girlfriend propose.” She stared at me, exasperation in the tilt of her chin. “At least Lucy had the guts to go for it.”
“Ouch, Mom,” I said, rubbing my chest.
Lucy placed her hand over mine, glaring at my mother. “Now, wait just a minute. Clay and I are getting married because it’s what we both want. He’s the least passive man I’ve ever met. Did he tell you what he said when we met?” She glanced up at me, frown fierce. “Tell her.”
“I asked her to marry me,” I admitted.
“Clayton, you didn’t.” My mom said it with a trace of pity in her tone. She shook her head.
“And then he kept asking me,” Lucy said. “So many times that I lost count.”
“It was eight times,” I muttered.
Lucy rolled her eyes. “I stand corrected. Eight times. He asked me plenty.”
My mom frowned at me. “I can’t tell if you’re a romantic or an idiot.”
“Can’t it be both?” I asked with my most charming grin.
Lucy chuckled. “I was camp idiot for a long time, but he grew on me.”
“And why do you want to marry my son?”
It was blunt. To the point. I held my breath, waiting for Lucy’s answer.
“Because, at the end of the day, I love him, and he’s the man I want to spend my life with. He’s kind and calm. A man you can count on. I can’t scare him off with my bad moods. Believe me, I tried. Your son has a heart of gold, and buns of—"
“Hey now,” I broke in. “She doesn’t need to know all the reasons.”
Lucy’s lips twitched, and she winked at my mom. “Let’s just say, he’s plenty romantic when he needs to be.”
My mom relaxed her hands at her sides, leaning into my dad, her gaze flitting from the protective arm I had wrapped around Lucy to the way she cuddled against my chest.
“I like that you’re willing to fight both for him and with him.” A slow smile broke across her features. “Congratulations to you both, and welcome to the family, Lucy. When’s the wedding?”