Guilt floods through me. We’ve been carrying on this secret sexual relationship, ignoring this right here. Our family. And now they’re here, in our space. It’s a cold, sobering reminder that what we’re doing is wrong. Unnatural. Weird.
Probably unlawful too.
“What can I help with?” I ask, keeping my voice light.
I quickly sweep my eyes over the space, thankful that our mess from last night is gone. I’m hoping Eric was able to clean it up before our parents showed up.
“I’m about to take out the biscuits, honey,” Mom says over her shoulder. “Could you butter them for me?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The coffee finishes brewing and I set to pouring cups for the four of us. Mike grabs creamer from the fridge while Mom takes out the biscuits. Eric is quiet, steadily babysitting the bacon, and occasionally stirring the sausage gravy while Mom brings the biscuits to me.
This is so awkward.
What would they do if they knew what we’ve been up to?
I imagine Mike blowing up, fighting with Eric, and Mom sobbing with heartache. Our sisters would be confused and probably crying too.
Since thinking about our relationship getting out gives me hives, I focus on buttering the biscuits. Once finished, I nudge Mike and motion for him to follow me to the dining room. We drag our chairs to the sliding glass door so we can watch the snow fall outside.
“You okay, kiddo?” he asks, giving my shoulder a fatherly squeeze. “You’re tense.”
Not much. Just sleeping with your son. Aren’t you proud?
I swallow down a gulp of coffee too quickly, hissing at the burn. “All good. Antsy to go back to work.”
“I hear that,” Mike says with a chuckle. “The roads are clearer today. I bet they’ll reopen tomorrow.” Then, he turns to look at Eric. “Speaking of work, what are your plans, Eric? You can’t freeload off our girl forever.”
I cut my gaze over to my stepbrother, noting the tension in his shoulders. If we were alone, I’d massage them until he relaxed.
“Still figuring it out, Dad,” Eric says with a grunt.
Mom gives him an affectionate pat on his back. “Don’t let your father rush you, honey.”
“We could use him in the back office,” Mike says, undeterred by his wife. “Carolyn is going to have her baby at any moment. We’ll need someone to handle payroll. Eric’s more than capable for that job. When she comes back, we can move him into sales or something.”
We’re thankfully interrupted when the girls come bouncing into the dining room, squealing with excitement. “Look at Frosty,” Layla says, “thrusting our dog in the air above her head. He’s a present.”
Mike snorts with laughter. “Get those Christmas bows off that dog’s head. Poor thing.”
Frosty yips as if in agreement. I wave them to bring him over to me. Layla scowls as I pluck all the bows off my dog and then give him a kiss on his wet nose.
Ruthie takes him from Layla and whispers loudly, “We can put more on.”
They scurry off to cause more mischief. Poor Frosty. He’s a good sport, though. At least they’re entertained and not bugging us adults.
“We didn’t come over to scold Eric about his career,” Mom says, shooting Mike a pointed look. “We came to ask a favor.”
“Food’s ready,” Eric says with a grunt.
After a hectic few minutes where everyone loads up on food, we eventually settle at the dining room table. The girls happily eat at the coffee table while watching The Grinch on TV. Mike devours half his plate of biscuits and gravy before Mom speaks up.
“This year we’re hosting a neighborhood Christmas party,” Mom says, shooting Eric a nervous look. “I got in over my head.”
“Why?” I ask with a snort. “The party, I mean. Since when do you play hostess to the whole neighborhood?”
“She’s gunning for HOA president,” Mike says with a teasing grin. “We all know the party isn’t necessary. She’s going to win.”
