Aunt Delores bustled in just as Lucy was leaving, and my aunt carried a massive tray of crawfish. “Don’t worry, honey, we’re making do. Now, grab a tray or something useful. Let’s head outside. Your cousins are setting up the folding tables.”
“Wait, what?” I blinked, still groggy. “Why are you all here?”
Then it hit me. The music, the smell of boiled seafood wafting through the open window. My family had come to throw me a surprise crawfish boil. How very New Orleanian of them. Nothing sayswe love youquite like 30 pounds of crustaceans and a folding table covered in newspaper.
“We couldn’t miss an opportunity to see this fancy mansion of yours,” Aunt Delores said matter-of-factly. “And your uncle thought it was a great idea to bring the boil to you since you’ve been so busy.”
“Great idea? You realize this is how people end up on neighborhood Facebook groups, right?”
Aunt Delores waved a hand. “If anybody complains, we’ll just invite them over. Nothing diffuses outrage like a plate of hot crawfish. Grab the hot sauce, and let’s go.”
I padded into the kitchen, stopping short at the sight of my entire family swarming the backyard like they’d been air-dropped in. Tables, coolers, and crawfish pots had materialized out of nowhere. How had I slept through this?
Luke stepped cautiously into the room, his hair a little tousled, eyes soft when they found mine. “I think our place got invaded.” His lips were twitching.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, crossing to him. “I didn’t know they were coming. Go hide upstairs. Save yourself while there’s still time.”
He smiled, the kind of smile that made my heart stutter. “I think we’re ready for a little ‘meet the family,’ don’t you?”
“Normally I’d agree,” I said, peeking through the window at the chaos unfolding. “But not my family. Maybe we start small, like just my cousin Lucy or Mary. They’re basically normal. The rest of them, especially all together, are like Mardi Gras on espresso.”
He chuckled, brushing a piece of hair from my cheek. “I’ll take my chances. Though, I did want to talk to you about something. But it can wait.”
Before I could ask what, the back door banged open, and my Uncle Ray appeared, clapping Luke on the back with enough force to knock him off balance. “Well, look at this guy. You must be the one who’s been keeping our Anna so busy. Welcome to the family boil, son.”
Luke straightened, still smiling—somehow. “Uh, thanks. Big fan of seafood.”
My uncle beamed. “Grab an apron and make yourself useful.” My uncle shoved a gaudy, oversized apron into Luke’s hands. The bold, glittery letters readPinch Me, I’m Cajun.
Luke held it up. “This is incredibly sparkly.”
Then, my cousin Mary appeared, shrieking as if she’d spotted a rare animal in the wild. “Holy moly cannoli, it’s Luke Fisher,” she yelled, nearly dropping her tray of drinks. “Lucy, LUCY. Look.”
“Oh, for the love of…” I muttered, shaking my head.
Aunt Delores swooped in, eyes sparkling as she gave Luke a once-over. “Well, aren’t you even more handsome in person?” She patted his arm. “Anna, honey, you didn’t tell us you were friends with a movie star.”
Uncle Ray squinted at Luke. “Wait a second… are you the guy from that movie? The one where you’re, uh…” He gestured vaguely with his hands. “Doing all that dramatic running?”
Luke hesitated. “Uh, probably?”
“You know,” Uncle Ray continued, snapping his fingers. “The one with the explosions. And the car. Or was it a boat?”
“Yes.” Luke nodded.
Uncle Ray nodded sagely. “I knew I recognized you. Great work.”
I buried my face in my hands while Luke shot me a grin that said he was absolutely loving this.
More family poured in, hugs and handshakes flying as people jostled to greet Luke. One of my aunts wrapped him in a bear hug, while my cousin James took a selfie with him before he could protest.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered to Luke as Uncle Robby—who hadn’t connected the dots—clapped him on the back.
“You here for the crawfish, son?” Uncle Robby asked. “Let’s get to the backyard and grab a plate. We’ve got plenty.”
Luke opened his mouth to respond, but Aunt Delores cut him off. “He’s not here for the crawfish, Robby. He’s here forAnna.”
Someone handed me a tray of hot sausage, and we headed to the backyard, where tables had been arranged.
