Chapter 8 #2
“Thank you. You have a lovely home,” I say, glancing back at the wood staircase.
She smiles. “Thank you. It’s been in the family for three generations. We do the best we can to keep it up.”
We enter a large kitchen with white cabinets and white marble and butcher block counters.
It’s not new or fancy. It’s older, but in a classic way.
Based on the clutter on the counter, it’s definitely not a show kitchen.
There’s a stack of papers at one end and an assortment of Christmas tins on another section.
A large pot is on the large gas range, and multiple containers sit next to the stove.
The kitchen looks lived in, and I instantly feel at home.
“Come in,” she says enthusiastically. “You must be starving after flying all day. I have a pot of chili on the stove. We were just waiting for you two to get here.” She stops and gives me a questioning glance. “Oh, dear. I realize I didn’t ask Alex if you liked chili.”
Alex grunts like he disagrees with what she said. Does he think she purposely didn’t ask him? Or maybe he doesn’t like chili, and he’s upset she made it.
But she’s still looking at me, waiting for an answer.
“I love chili,” I say enthusiastically. “I often make a big pot and portion it out so I can bring it to work to eat during the week.”
“You bring your own lunch to work?” Mrs. King asks in amazement, and I can’t help wondering if this is a test. “What do you do for work?”
I prepare myself for the derision or disdain that’s sure to come.
I try not to look defensive when I say, “I’m a barista at a coffee shop in the mornings and early afternoons, and then I work as a phlebotomist in the late afternoons and evenings.
I usually bring food to eat either during my breaks or between my shifts. ”
Both women look at me like I just announced I’m an alien. I’m already planning to excuse myself to look up the next flight out of here when both of them break out into the brightest smiles I’ve ever seen. They’re practically giddy.
“Well, aren’t you a delight!” his mother says, closing the space between us and pulling me into a hug.
I’m briefly stunned before hugging her back. At least she doesn’t think I’m beneath her. But that still doesn’t explain their enthusiasm. Maybe they’re just thrilled to have a barista in the house?
“Are you wanting a coffee hookup?” I ask with a laugh as she pulls away. “Because even without an espresso machine, I can make just about any coffee drink you’d like.”
Mallory looks excited at that prospect, then points at me. “I’m definitely going to take you up on that. In fact, tomorrow morning we’re going to get whatever you need. But first,” she looks at her mother, then back at me, “we have to know how in the world you ended up dating Alex.”
Alex is standing in the doorway talking to his brother, but I catch him glancing at me with an anxious look. He doesn’t think his brothers will buy it, but I’m still going with the story I’d proposed. I won’t pretend to be someone I’m not.
“Alex is a regular customer at my coffee shop. It’s on the first floor of his office building, so we see each other every day.
A few months ago, my cat got sick, and Alex noticed that I was feeling kind of down and invited me to meet him after I got off work and tell him what was going on.
So, I told him about my cat, and…” I end with a shrug as though it’s no big deal. “The rest is history.”
They stare at me in silence for several seconds, and then his mother glances toward Alex, flushing with pride, and mutters under her breath, “Thank God you finally came to your senses.”
I’m lightheaded with relief. His mother and sister don’t care that I don’t have an MBA or a business suit. The jury’s still out on his dad and brother, but I’ll take what I can get.
Valerie takes my hand and squeezes. “Aren’t you a blessing?”
While I’m relieved they don’t think I’m beneath them or their son, I now feel guilty she thinks we’re really dating.
“You’re laying it on a little thick, aren’t you, Mom?” Alex asks dryly, giving her a look I can’t read.
“You hush,” his mother says, as she picks up a large wooden spoon on the counter to stir the chili in the pot. “Let me bask in the moment.”
“Don’t embarrass, Finley,” he says, still sounding unamused.
“I’m not embarrassed,” I say, partially to irritate Alex, but mostly because I don’t want his mother to hold back on how she feels. I’ve never believed in love at first sight, but I’ve spent less than five minutes with Alex’s mother and sister and I’m head over heels in love with them.
“When Alex said he was bringing his girlfriend home…” Mallory’s voice fades, “Well, you’re not at all what we expected.”
“Thanks,” I say, feeling a bit smug. Alex may be embarrassed by my job, it’s obvious the women in his family haven’t been too fond of his previous girlfriends.
Still, I have an opportunity to downplay our relationship.
Now that I adore them, I really hate deceiving them.
“I’m not sure if Alex is ready to make our relationship that official. We’re still pretty new.”
“But he invited you for Christmas,” Mallory says. “He’s never invited anyone for Christmas.”
A chill washes over me. Why hasn’t he invited his previous girlfriends for the holidays? Then again, maybe they wanted to spend Christmas with their own families. For all I know, Alex spent it with them.
Alex must feel the need to convince his mom and sister we’re involved because he walks over and wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Finley didn’t have anywhere else to go, so I took pity on her.”
His mother and sister stare at him in horror.
I want to elbow him in the ribs, but instead I shake his arm. “Yep,” I say, keeping my tone playful despite my humiliation. I glance up at him, “That’s me—your lonely, holiday pity case.”
Something flickers in his eyes, I think I see an apology, but my eyes burn, and his face turns blurry.
Valerie releases a horrified gasp and pulls me into another hug.
“Oh, you poor dear.” She grabs my shoulders and pulls back, looking deep into my eyes.
“Don’t you dare call yourself a pity case.
You’re very welcome in our home.” She casts a frown at her son, then graces me with a bright smile.
“Now, you must be starving, so let’s get you that chili.
How do you like it? We have all the fixings—cheese, corn chips, sour cream, anything you’d like on top, onions? We even have cornbread.”
“We heard that cornbread is a big thing in the South,” Mallory says.
I laugh. “Isn’t cornbread a big thing everywhere? And yes, please.”
Mallory and her mother exchange glances, then she turns back to me. “We like cornbread, but some of Alex’s other girlfriends—”
Then it hits me why Alex was irritated about the chili. It was a test, and I suspect his previous girlfriends didn’t pass.
“How about we not bring any of my previous girlfriends into this,” Alex says, his voice tight. “We all know that no woman wants to hear about her boyfriend’s previous girlfriends.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” I say sweetly, placing a hand on his arm.
“I don’t mind hearing about your ex-girlfriends.
I’m not the least bit threatened, because I know my worth.
” I might be laying it on thick, but I want to make it clear I’m not embarrassed that I’m not one of polished women he usually dates.
Mrs. King shakes her head. “Mallory, you could take a lesson from Finley.”
“I know, right,” Mallory says, then sighs.
“His last girlfriend was ridiculously jealous of everyone and everything. One time she thought Mom was looking at Alex a little too long, and she wrapped her claws—I mean hands—around his arm and hung on the rest of the time they were with us. She was practically claiming Alex as her property.”
There’s a teasing tone to her voice, but I can also tell that she’s irritated with him. I think about the photo I saw of her and Alex taken at the skating rink several years ago. She’d been staring up at him with adoration and awe. I don’t see any of that now.
What happened?
Mrs. King scoops some chili into a bowl and then asks if I want cheddar cheese and sour cream.
She seems pleased when I say yes to both, then hands me the bowl and a small plate of corn bread.
Mallory ushers me to the kitchen table in the attached breakfast room and gets me settled, then volunteers to get me a glass of water.
After everyone else serves themselves, then join me at the six-person table. Valerie and Dr. Bob sit at the ends. The boys flank their dad, and Mallory and I sit on either side of their mother. Alex is sitting next to me.
“So, Finley,” Dr. Bob asks, “were you born and raised in Atlanta?” This is the first time he’s said anything other than hello to me. Then again, Valerie hasn’t let him get a word in.
I nod. “My mom was from Atlanta, or at least a town outside of Atlanta.”
“And your father?” he asks.
“My father was from Florida, but his parents weren’t the greatest, so he went no contact before he met my mother.”
“So, your father moved to Atlanta too?”
“Yes, but not for long. He joined the military and was killed in the service when I was a baby.”
He frowns. “I’m so sorry.”
“That’s okay,” I say. “I obviously don’t remember him, but I have several photos. My mother never remarried so she raised me as a single mother. We didn’t have a lot of money, but she always found a way to make the most of everything.”
“She sounds like a special woman,” Valerie says.
“Yeah.” My voice catches. “In any case, we lived in the suburbs until she got sick. Our car died not long after that, so we moved into the city and used public transportation.”
“Is your mother better now?” his mother asks gently.
I’m furious with myself for bringing this up so early, but they’re going to wonder why I’m not spending Christmas with my own family. Still, I hate that Alex made me look like a pity case.
Valerie’s eyes widen as it dawns on her. “Oh,” she says softly. “I just realized what Alex meant when he said you didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“My mother passed away,” I admit, giving her a reassuring smile. “But it was six years ago, so water under the bridge.”
When I tell people it’s been years, they seem to think the pain is gone. While it’s not as fresh as it was after she first died, grief still sometimes catches me randomly by surprise.
But the empathy in Valerie’s eyes tells me she understands grief. “My own mother died a few years ago, and while I had her much longer than you had your own mother, even with the passage of time, you’re never over it.”
I nod, unable to push words past the lump in my throat.
She tilts her head, still holding my gaze. “So, Alex wasn’t being dramatic when he said you were spending Christmas alone?”
“No, but it’s fine. I’m used to it,” I say dismissively. “Still, Alex felt guilty leaving me, and insisted I come. He had to convince me. I didn’t want to be an imposition.”
“An imposition?” his mother asks in disbelief. “Of course not! You have no idea how excited we are that you’re here.” The look on her face persuades me that she means it. “We want you to feel at home.”
Tears sting my eyes. “Thank you.” I already feel that way, but I have to remind myself this isn’t real. I don’t actually belong here. I have a part to play, and in return, I get the Christmas I always wanted.
Still, on the rare occasions I’ve daydreamed about having a decent boyfriend and what that might entail, I’d be lying if I said the picture didn’t include a warm, welcoming family like this.
We’re all silent for several seconds, before Valerie says, “Is there anything specific you’d like for meals, Finley? Any dietary concerns?” She nods to my bowl. “I’m guessing you’re not vegan since you’re eating chili with beef topped with cheese and sour cream.”
I chuckle. “No, no concerns and I’m definitely an omnivore.
I’m just grateful to be here and experience Christmas with your family, especially here in Hollybrook.
My mother always dreamed of spending Christmas somewhere like this.
” I glance over at Dr. Bob. “You have no idea how much it means to me that y’all are so welcoming.
” I turn back to Valerie. “Not many families would be.”
I’m thinking about Barb’s and Mirna’s families and how both women had tried for several years to get their families to agree to let me come, but even if they’d said yes, I wouldn’t go.
I never want to be where I’m not wanted, but my worries that Alex’s family might have resented my presence have fled.
“Don’t be silly,” Valerie says, waving her spoon. “We have an open-door policy in this house. Anyone is welcome.” She gives me a broad smile. “Especially a friend of Alex’s.”
I’m glad she’s only called me his friend, it makes me feel less like a fraud, even though Alex and I aren’t even friends.
I thought we could be, but now I’m not so sure.