“A little glass is fine,” Gwen replied as we moved into the kitchen. My hand brushed against hers as I passed, rounding the counter. “Can I help with anything?” She watched as I picked up the plate of steak and the tray of tin foil wrapped potatoes.
“Everything’s done except for the stuff that needs to go on the barbeque grill,” I told her as I paused beside her on my trek to the back door.
“Let’s go sit down and get to know one another,” Mom suggested.
Gwen looked from Mom to me and relaxed when I gave her a reassuring smile. Balancing the plate on my arm, I opened the door and stepped onto the deck.
Gwen
Alaric’s mom—Barb—smiled brightly at me as she carried the salad bowl to the dining room table.
I took a fortifying breath, hanging on to the heartened feeling Alaric’s smile had brought.
“Gwen! Look! I put a picture in my frame!” Sawyer said, jumping off the bottom step and flying into the kitchen to show me.
I took it from her and looked at the photo inside the frame. Sawyer was holding her tiny newborn sister in her arms. The breathing apparatus over the baby’s small features made it kind of difficult to see the baby’s face, but the look of pure love on Sawyer’s face was too much.
“Aw, what a beautiful picture,” I said, gently passing the frame back to her. Sawyer nodded proudly.
“Her name is Olivia,” Sawyer told me. “Daddy says she looks just like me!”
“Let’s have a look,” Barb bent forward and peeked over Sawyer’s shoulder. “Aw, she sure does! I can see it. You make sure you give your mama a hug from me, okay?”
“I will.” Sawyer nodded.
“Now, go put the frame back in your room and wash up for dinner, okay?” Barb added, ruffling her head. Sawyer nodded again, pivoting and racing for the stairs. “Slowly!”
“Okay!” Sawyer called back, slowing her movements a fraction.
Barb smiled after her, then turned to look at me. “My son tells me you guys met at a bar,” she said, with an amused twinkle in her hazel eyes.
“Oh, yeah.” I laughed awkwardly, swishing the wine around in my glass carefully before taking a long sip. “I, uh, don’t usually do the whole bar thing. But my sister dragged me out for a girl’s night, and then she ditched me there…and Alaric, being the gentleman that he is, offered me a lift home.”
I bit my tongue to stop the onslaught of words from spilling out. I always talked too much when I was nervous. My eyes frantically went to the mudroom, where I could see Alaric through the window of the door, still grilling. With no hope of rescue there, I turned back to Barb and forced a nervous smile.
She topped up my wine, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I remember the first time I met Alaric’s dad’s parents. I was so nervous! Parents can be downright intimidating, but you don’t have to worry about me.”
I laughed a little, relaxing.
She winked, topping up her own glass. She eyed me reflectively, her smile never losing its warmth. “Alaric told me that you’re writing a book.”
“Ha, yeah.” I flushed crimson, deeply embarrassed. I felt foolish admitting my little side-project out loud, let alone to a near stranger that just so happened to mean a lot to the guy I’d gone and fallen head over heels for.
“What’s it about? I love reading—I’m in a book club with some girlfriends back home,” she told me, strategically revealing bits about herself, likely to ease my anxiety. I smiled, appreciating her effort.
“It’s a sci-fi dystopian romance novel,” I replied, taking another large sip of wine.
“That sounds intriguing.” Barb’s eyebrows rose, and she grinned.
“Okay! My hands are clean!” Sawyer called out, taking the steps slower this time and holding on to the railing.
The back door opened, and Alaric walked through, balancing the plate of cooked steaks in one hand and the tray of potatoes in the other. He closed the door with his foot and brought the food to the counter, sending me a beholden glance as he passed by.
“How hungry are you?” he asked Sawyer, who stood on her tippy-toes beside him, trying to see onto the counter.
“Super hungry!” she declared. Alaric sent her a smile that made my internal organs—especially the baby-making ones—melt.
He grabbed one of the smaller steaks and put it on a plate, cutting it into tiny, manageable pieces.
