She rolled her eyes but nodded in agreement. “So, what did you cook?”
Shit!
“Honestly, I didn’t cook anything. I just said that to get under his skin.”
She shook her head in disappointment. “Keelan, we’ve been played. Now I have to figure out something for dinner.”
“He kinda helped us out, Mom. Be nice.”
She put all her weight on one leg and folded her arms across her chest as she looked at me.
“It seems you’ve won over both my boys, and that says a lot because they both can be a bit standoffish. Unfortunately, that doesn’t solve our dinner problem.”
“How about you all come over to my house, and we order in? I’ll use my good dishes to plate the food, and it’ll be just like I cooked.”
“Can we, Mom?”
“Keelan, we barely know this man.”
He shrugged. “But Que likes him, so that means he’s safe.”
We both waited patiently as Naryah held our evening plans in the palm of her hands. At least a minute passed before she finally agreed to have dinner at my house.
“Fine, but I get to pick what we’re eating, and I have a taste for Italian.”
“Whatever you want, beautiful.”
“Black Elm has grown a lot since I moved away. So far, the restaurant scene is my favorite, and that’s saying a lot since I was in Chicago for over twenty years. The food there is unmatched,” I said before eating a forkful of lasagna.
“How often did you come home to visit?” Naryah asked.
“Not often enough for my parents, but a few times a year. My visits were never more than three days, and I spent most of them letting my mother fatten me up with her home-cooked meals.”
“I don’t blame you. Whenever my mother is in the mood to cook a big meal and invites me and my sister over, I can’t get there fast enough.”
“Yeah. My Nana’s food is good,” Keelan commented before stuffing his face.
Naryah gasped and playfully pushed him on the shoulder.
“Are you trying to say Mommy can’t cook?”
“No, your food is good too, Mom. Nana’s is just better.”
He shrugged as if what he said wasn’t at all offensive and continued eating his spaghetti and meatballs.
“Whatever, Son. You’d better hope I don’t change my mind about Trey’s party.”
He looked up from his plate with wide eyes. “But you already said I could go.”
She didn’t respond immediately, making him suffer for a moment before telling him she was kidding. Relief washed over his face before he returned his attention to his food.
“Keelan, did your mother tell you that Trey is my nephew?”
He gave me the wide eyes that he’d given his mother, but this time, it was out of surprise instead of worry or fear.
“Really? That’s so cool. Will you be at his party?”
“Of course.”
