35. Dee
Chapter thirty-five
Dee
Katherine, Dylan’s mom, packs a container of leftovers for me and Dylan to bring back to our apartment, and even though my stomach is so full it hurts, my mouth starts to water at the sight.
“Did you like the scalloped potatoes, Deanna? How many helpings should I add?” she asks with a warm smile.
“I would sell my soul to eat those with every meal for the rest of my life. So as many servings as you’re willing to part with,” I say earnestly.
She laughs and dumps four huge spoonfuls into a Tupperware container. I mentally rub my hands together…I’m not sharing a damn bite of that with Dylan.
“Oh, and I threw in a special Fancy Feast for your furry friend.”
I nearly choke on my own saliva. “My…uh….my what now?”
“Dylan mentioned you have a cat. I grew up with the cutest little guy named Shadow. I miss him. You’ll have to bring yours with you next time you visit.”
I take a huge gulp of my drink, then nod.
Is this Dylan calling my bluff? Testing me to see if I’ll keep up the charade with his mother or if I’ll finally come clean?
I can’t lie to her. What if she comes to visit and wants to see a cat to ease the pain of missing her cat and then I have to tell her I have no cat…
No. I can’t do it.
“I…don’t actually have a cat,” I whisper the last few words.
“Really? Why did Dylan say you did?”
I rub my palm over my chest, trying to slow my racing heart. Why does it feel like I’m in the principal’s office? Is she one of those overprotective moms who won’t appreciate the joke?
“I sort of…convinced him I have one. For fun?” My voice gets higher and squeakier the more I spill word vomit all over Katherine’s nice kitchen floors. “You see, Dylan and I kind of have this type of relationship where—” Fuck. I said relationship. Not friendship.
Will she know I’m sleeping with her son?
Oh my god. I’m sweating.
She watches me, confusion written clear as day on her face. I swipe at my forehead and kick my feet back and forth. “We basically thrive off giving each other a hard time.” I manage a small laugh. “One day I said I had a cat…and I’ve kept up the ruse ever since.”
She positively beams at me. “Oh my god, that’s so fun.”
“It is?” Relief pours over me. My shoulders must drop a foot.
“Yes,” she screeches. She tiptoes over to me, looking behind me, presumably to make sure the coast is clear.
“I convinced Walter that I was allergic to green peppers when we started dating. It was an accident, really.” She waves her hand in front of her face.
“I was trying to explain that I don’t like peppers, and he somehow got the message mixed up.
I joined him and his parents for dinner, but before I arrived, he told everyone I was severely allergic to peppers.
He made me an entirely separate meal and washed every dish meticulously to avoid any cross-contamination.
“I didn’t realize, and I guess he did this for the first three years of our relationship, until I finally tried a pepper again, only to realize I really enjoy them. He watched me in horror, slapping the fork out of my hand, only for us to discover the misunderstanding.”
We laugh, and I find myself loving Katherine more with every minute.
She’s kind and welcoming, clearly has a good sense of humor, and loves her son unconditionally.
I don’t have the heart to tell her that it sounds like she and Walter clearly had a misunderstanding, while I’m intentionally fucking with her son’s mind every chance I get, but I decide that’s not an important detail to harp on.
“Anyway.” She sighs, wiping the tears from her eyes at the fond memory. “Your secret is safe with me.”
We talk for a while and she asks about my family and friends. She’s already in love with Nana and Emi after I share a few stories. Understandable. She asks about my book club—Dylan must have mentioned something—and I’m a little…okay, I’m very vague with the details.
“What kind of trouble are you two getting up to in here?” Dylan asks, placing his hands on my shoulders, standing comfortably at my back as I sit at the kitchen island.
“Eh.” I shrug. “I’m deciding how best to propose to you. I need to keep you close if I want to eat this well again.”
He laughs and squeezes my shoulders once before perching on the stool next to me, his body angled toward me.
He drops his voice low. “I’m good for more than food, you know?”
“I don’t know. I have a big appetite.”
He fights a smile and returns his focus to his parents. His father, Walter, jumped in to help Katherine, packing up two huge pieces of pie while they bicker about which Tupperware to use.
No way that’s making it until tomorrow. I’m eating the pie and potatoes as soon as we get home. I don’t care if it hurts…they were that good.
“Here’s that Fancy Feast I told you about, Dee,” Katherine says, winking discreetly before placing that in the bag as well.
“Thank you both for coming,” Walter says. “We’ll make the drive to you next time. We’ve been wanting to catch another show at the Bridge.”
“I’ll send you the concert schedule,” Dylan says easily, though I feel his frame tense. I wonder if he’s thinking he may not be working there long enough for them to make it out to see another show.
I thank them before getting caught up in some kind of pileup family hug between Dylan and Katherine as Walter crowds in from the opposite side.
“Love you. Merry Christmas,” Dylan yells as we walk down the driveway, leaving them to watch from the doorway, Katherine tucked into Walter’s side.
Dylan backs out of the driveway, his arm behind my headrest as he watches the street for an opening. My lap warms from the leftovers piled high in the bag. I cling to the sides—precious cargo and all.
“Your parents are supersweet,” I muse.
“And you’ve already won them over.”
“Of course. I’m very lovable.”
His hand finds my thigh and he squeezes, sending a shocking pulse of electricity through me.
Okay. The plan is sex then pie.
I can’t think of a better way to spend Christmas Eve.
We ride in comfortable silence before he sighs softly, as if weeks of tension were leaving his body.
“Was it as hard as you thought?” I ask, not wanting to push, but also wanting to give him the space to talk about it. “When your family brought up the Bridge?”
“No. They all understood how unpredictable this can be.” He swallows, jaw clenching.
“I was nervous for nothing.” His head falls back along the headrest, his eyes still fixed on the road.
“All that anxiety, for my family to do what they’ve always done…
support me. Say kind shit. I don’t know why I’m always surprised. Why I’m always prepared for the worst.”
I tap his temple gently, once, then twice.
“Tell that brain of yours to give you a break, will you? They want the best for you. Shit doesn’t work out sometimes. That’s not a reflection on you.”
He gives me this look, and I tilt my head, knowing I’m not going to like what he says.
He taps my temple once before returning his focus to the road. “Sounds like the same shit you need to tell your own brain.”
“You have this knack for turning everything around on me, you know that?”
“I think that’s a skill we both possess.”
I smirk because he’s right. “Well, I guess you’re not exactly wrong. I’ll try to deliver the message to my brain if you do the same.”
He laughs. “Deal.”
Later that evening—after he fucks me over the side of the couch, too hurried to make it to the bedroom five feet away—we sit at opposite ends of the couch, legs tangled while we eat leftover pie in front of the Christmas tree.
“You first,” I say, nodding toward the gift at his side.
He sets his pie on the table before tearing through the wrapping paper with all the excitement of a kid. “What’s this?” he asks, his voice serious as he studies the first page of the scrapbook.
“I got the idea when you mentioned the drumming classes you already teach and how you want to start community lessons at the Bridge someday. Even if that doesn’t work out, I thought this would still be fun to have.
If you never use it, I won’t be mad,” I add dismissively, suddenly nervous that he hates the idea.
“I thought you could leave it open for your students to make their mark, so you can look back on all the musicians you support along the way.”
“I see one student started things off with a bang,” he says, before laughing at the page Emi claimed and bedazzled in hot pink, royal blue, and glitter…so much glitter.
“She called dibs when I told her my idea. There was no arguing with her.”
“There never is. Future president, I swear to God.” His eyes trace over every painstaking detail Emi crafted, and I swear I see him tearing up as he reads the surprisingly heartfelt note Emi included alongside the glitter drum set stickers.
“I really love this idea, Dee.” He grips my ankle, rubbing soft circles along my skin mindlessly as he continues looking over the cover I designed myself.
“I never thought to do something like this. Thank you.”
I smile, relieved he doesn’t hate it.
“Your turn.” He nods toward the bag on the floor next to me.
“It better be good if I’m putting down my pie,” I joke, and he nudges my hip with his foot.
“Open it,” he says. “Card first.”
I open the envelope and a gift card drops into my lap. I catch a glimpse of the name and bust out laughing. “Oh my god, you did not give me a gift card to a sex store for Christmas.”
“I would hate to see a repeat performance of your last…I think you called it your bedroom assistant. It’s time to upgrade.”
“Why upgrade when I have you?” I challenge.
“This opens up more opportunities.”
Oh, I very much want to know what he has in mind.
“So much excitement, and that was just the card,” I say.
He rubs the back of his neck, and I can practically hear his thoughts. “Why are you so nervous about this, Dylan? My gift was practically free and you just spoiled the shit out of me?”
“Your gift was thoughtful,” he insists.
“Trust me, I consider your gift to be very thoughtful.” I reach into the bag, hoping that avoiding any more delay will ease Dylan’s fears of me not liking his gift. I laugh again as I spot the bylaws he put into a really nice frame. “I didn’t even realize these were missing from the fridge.”
He smiles. “I thought it was time we solidified the commitment we made to each other.”
“To share deserts.”
“And not hide each other’s mail.”
“You’re unreal.” I laugh it off as a prank gift until I notice the blush on his cheeks. “Why did you frame this, Dylan?”
“It was the start of something good. And I don’t like to let those moments drift by, unnoticed or unappreciated.”
The smile drops from my face and bumps rise along my arms at the seriousness of his voice.
We sit in silence for a minute, maybe longer, before he clears his throat and nods at the bag. “One more thing in there, something small.”
I nod, unable to find my voice until I pull out a small…cat toy.
The devil himself couldn’t compete with the saccharine smile that I give Dylan.
“She’ll love it.”