60. A Vaguely Human-Shaped Heap
”Why is nothing going right tonight?”If Brant and Chloe weren”t here, I might just toss the Beef Wellington into the trash and then collapse into a vaguely human-shaped heap in the center of the kitchen floor and cry. No, I take that back. I would definitely do that. Even with them, I”m tempted. Silver would probably just come and try to cuddle me, though, and getting dog cuddles makes it almost impossible to wallow in self-pity at the levels I deserve right now.
I spent the whole day on this. I browned each side of the beef—not cheating on sides three and four, even though I wondered if anyone would really be able to tell. I chopped the mushrooms and shallots for the duxelles. By hand, because Dad doesn”t own a food processor. I even looked up what the hell a duxelles is. That alone should have given me bonus points with the cooking gods. It should have earned me a halfway good entree. Or at least an edible one.
I didn”t call Em to bail me out the way I always do when I try to make something from a recipe on the internet. In fact, I haven”t talked to her at all this week. She has no idea what I”m doing. If she did, she would just try to talk me out of it.
”It”s like burnt toast.” Brant peers over my shoulder at the beef Wellington that looks more like a lumpy log of coal than a beef tenderloin covered in puff pastry. ”Scrape off the dark parts and it”ll be mostly fine. At least the potatoes are good.”
He sticks a fork into the truffled potato gratin that the internet calls the perfect, fool-proof side that is guaranteed to impress. Pretty sure it”s not supposed to look like a bowl of cereal where the part of Frosted Flakes is played by slices of potato. Some of which are the thickness of a fingernail, while others would somehow have been smaller if I”d left them as whole potatoes. And don”t forget the thinly sliced truffles that give the whole soupy mess a taste somewhere between plain wet earth and decomposing wet earth. The expensive cap to a meal that already cost almost half of my paycheck.
Tonight was supposed to be special.
Brant”s arms go around me and clasp in front of my belly as he rests his chin on my shoulder. ”It is special. Because it”s all of us.” And I realize I must have been talking out loud.
”It was supposed to be the night...” I let my words trail off because I know how stupid I”m going to sound once I say them.
”The night what?” He kisses the side of my neck and a warm wave rolls through me even though the last thing I want to feel is comforted.
Brant shaved before he came over, but his cheeks are already rough with the emerging stubble. I can”t resist running a finger across it as I turn. His lips are so close now, just inches from mine. His breath is warm on my nose. Since it doesn”t smell like fetid compost, I know he hasn”t actually snuck a bite of the potatoes that he”s pretending are good. ”The night I officially introduce you and Chloe to my dad,” I whisper. And the last night that I”ll ever disappoint him. I keep my lips pressed tight so I don”t accidentally say that part aloud. I can”t let Brant know about that yet.
His breath stops for a fraction of a second, and he”s probably doing his best to not laugh at me. The insane girl who invited her boyfriend and the teen girl, who somehow snuck into her life, to the house where she grew up so her dead dad can meet them. So Dad can understand why I”m doing what I”m doing.
To make things even less perfect, I”m crying now, because apparently I”m that girl too.
”That”s why you have those books back on the shelves. And that painting.”
That painting Dad was so proud of painting that he hung it front and center where everyone who came into the house could see it. I was thirteen-years-old and had just settled on the name Lily. I”ll never forget how his eyes lit up when I told him, the way his scratchy beard felt on my face when he hugged me. I hated that beard so much. I thought it made him look like a hobo who spent years catching trains around the West. I”d give almost anything to feel it against my cheek right now.
Two weeks later, he practically dragged me out to the garage, where he had a stained blue sheet over what turned out to be this painting. ”A lily for my Lily,” he told me as he uncovered it. I called him a dork and rolled my eyes because if I didn”t, tears would have poured from them instead. Mom had already left us at that point, so it was just the two of us. As much as I wanted to pretend he was just being a dorky dad, he was being the best dad ever. I hope he felt that in the hug I gave him.
”It”s silly, I know.”
Brant cups my face and swipes away my tears with his thumbs. ”I”m honored you want him to meet me. Truly. It”s not silly at all.” He flicks the tip of my nose with a finger and a start of a laugh bursts from my lips.
When he brushes his lips across the tip of my nose and rests his head against mine, I close my eyes and try to not think of Dad or the burnt smell that set the smoke alarm off ten minutes ago or the conversation I have planned for after the game. I try to be in the moment. I try to be happy.
”Chloe?” Brant calls out.
”Got it ordered,” she answers, still in the living room. ”The card”s back in your wallet. I ordered some cheesy garlic knots too. The app says twenty-seven more minutes.”
I tilt my head back to look at him, but he darts his eyes away from mine. ”What happened to mostly fine?”
He shrugs. Traitors. ”Thanks, but that”s not what I wanted. Come here, please.”
The teen groans, but after a couple of seconds, I hear her feet shuffling across the floor. ”What are we doing?”
”We”re hugging Lily to remind her that we love her and that we don”t care if she can”t cook. Ow!” He jumps as I press a finger into his ribs. ”And we”re meeting her dad. Get in here.”
I expect her to shake her head or tell us that we”re being dumb or whatever it is fifteen-year-olds say about the weird adults in their lives. I don”t expect to feel her arm go around my back as she joins our embrace. ”Hey, Lily”s dad,” she says.
”Lucas,” I whisper.
”Lucas,” she says. ”Lily told me you were good, and I can tell, because she is too. So thanks, and good to meet you.”
He was so good. I hope he forgives me for this. I hope they all do.