“Hmm, I’m gonna have to test that name out later.”
He gives me a kiss and a slap on the ass. “Only when I’m in your kitchen,” he says with a wink before heading into the dining room.
We all cram together at the giant farmhouse table, the scent of the meal making our stomachs rumble. It’s my favorite place to sit. The enchiladas steam at the center of the table, the cornbread shines with chile butter, and the rice looks vibrant and delicious.
Mazie sits in a clip-on highchair at the end, banging a silicone spoon like she’s keeping time for us all.
“Okay, okay,” Spencer says, catching the spoon before it launches. “Gentle hands, drummer girl.” Finn kisses Mazie’s cheek, and she squeals, grabbing a fistful of rice that immediately goes everywhere.
“Ten bucks says she did that on purpose,” Jasper says. We all look at him and roll our eyes.
Everyone takes their first bite at once, then falls into that little hush I live for. Heads bow, shoulders drop. Dom’s knee nudges mine under the table. He doesn’t say anything, just gives me that look that says everything.
“Chef,” Jaxon says around a hum. “You outdid yourself again. This is so good.
Alex points at the cornbread. “This glaze is to die for, and I respect you for it.”
Spencer clears his throat and lifts his glass. “To Beckett, and… to Beckett’s cookbook, which is gonna be a hit.”
My chest fills with pride. This is what I live for: the praise ofthe people around me, the only opinions that matter. That feeling I’ve been chasing all these years finally blooms, and it’s because I’m home here. I thought that feeling would hit withwhatI was cooking… but I had it all wrong. It’swhereI’m cooking.
The table cheers, and Mazie throws her hands in the air, sending rice everywhere, causing us all to laugh.
“I want one recipe from each of you,” I say. “Something that represents you. I’ll test them and write them up. If you have any background information on the recipe, that would be great too.”
Mazie drops her spoon; it ricochets off the tray and lands in my lap. She looks startled, then delighted, like she invented gravity. “Yes, you can submit one too,” I say, bopping her on the nose.
I pass her spoon back, and she pats it like a pet. The table settles into the kind of quiet that means food and comfort have done their job. Chairs creak. Someone pours water. The smell of the enchilada sauce sits heavy and warm in the air.
“You’ll put our names on the cover, right?” Jasper asks, mock-serious. “Beckett and Friends: A Cookbook.”
“Friends and Beckett,” Jaxon says.
“Beckett’s Friends,” Alex tries.
Dom bumps my shoulder. “Let him pick. It’s his book.”
“It’s our table,” I say, surprising myself with how steady it comes out. “I just get to write it down.”
Finn lifts his glass again. “To the table.”
“To the table,” we echo. Mazie bangs her spoon on the after-beat, right on cue as the bell jingles over the door. We all turn to look.
“Hey, you made it,” Jasper says, getting up to give Marcus and Jacob a hug. “Have a seat. We’re just getting started.”
“Sorry we’re late.”
“Is everything okay?” I ask, sliding down so Jacob can take a seat next to me, while Marcus sits across the table next to Jasper.
“Yes, well, it will be. Two of the boys from the shelter are having a hard time getting along.”
Marcus looks at the ceiling. “If only Matthew were here.”
Jasper laughs. “He would have locked them in a room until they figured their shit out.”
“Yes, well,” Jacob starts as he lifts his plate and I slide a couple of enchiladas onto it. “I think they’re crushing on each other and don’t know what to do about it.”
Both Jules and Spencer let out a combined, “Awwwww.”
