“I’m just lucky Garrick was available to drive me,” I say, kissing Mom on the cheek.
“Thank you so much for bringing our girl home,” Mom says, giving Garrick a quick hug.
“It was no problem, Ms. Colson. Getting to spend time with Stevie is never a chore.”
Mom positively beams at him as she loops her arm through his and swoons. “Please call me Monica, and I know what you mean. My daughter is a delight.”
Oh my freaking god. I just know she’s going to embarrass the hell out of me tonight. I must be insane to even consider bringing him inside, but it’s too late now. This shit show is already in motion.
I’m all but forgotten as she drags Garrick through the door. “Did Stevie ever tell you about the time…”
I’m glad I don’t hear the rest because I’d rather not know which humiliating childhood story she’s telling him first. I shuffle in through the door, closing it behind me before heading toward the kitchen where I deposit the cake I baked this morning.
Then I walk into the main living room, at the front of the house, where everyone is congregated. Nana’s neighbors and friends descend on me en masse, enveloping me in a cloud of floral perfume, sticky kisses, and motherly hugs. Over their heads, I spot Garrick being interrogated by my mom, her best friend Julie, Hadley, and Nana. He looks relaxed and not in need of rescue.
Yet.
Mom is busy pouring the sparkling wine into flutes while she keeps one ear on the conversation. She gives me a none too subtle thumbs-up, and I don’t hold back on the eye roll. Playing it cool does not exist in Mom’s vocab.
Nana’s friends bombard me with questions about UO, my jobs at the bar and floral shop, my summer plans, and mostly about the handsome stranger I brought with me. Me bringing a guy around is a novelty, and no one is letting me leave without telling them everything about Garrick.
When Mom hands me a glass of wine, I knock half of it back in one go, wondering how I can extricate myself without seeming rude.
Nana comes charging to the rescue, squeezing her way in between her friends to claim me in a bear hug. “Little Poppy. Come show your nana some loving.”
Bending down, I wrap my arms around her, burying myself in the familiarity of her hug.
“I’ve missed you, sweetheart.”
“Happy birthday! I’ve missed you too.” Although I call Nana once a week, it’s been six weeks since I last saw her. We break our embrace, but she grasps my hands in her smaller ones as she looks me over, ensuring I’m in one piece. “It’s almost summer break. You can glut yourself on me soon,” I say, laughing.
“I’m looking forward to it,” she says as I hand her the gift bag. “Silly girl. What have I told you about buying me things?”
“It’s your birthday. If I can’t spoil you on your birthday, when can I?”
“You spoil me with your presence, and that is all I need.” She’s starting to sound a lot like Garrick.
“You look stunning, Nana. I love the dress. Is it new?” Her wine-colored velvet dress has little gold birds dotted all over it, cute cap sleeves, ruched detail at the bust, and it flows softly from the waist over her small, slender frame. Sparkly gold shoes with a low heel adorn her tiny feet. Her long gray hair is pulled into an elegant chignon, and I spot my mother’s handiwork. I always say Mom could have been a hairdresser. She has never formally trained, but she cuts a lot of the neighbors’ kids’ hair, like she used to do mine as a child, and she’s a magician with up styles.
My nana is the epitome of a glamorous granny. Mostly, she wears work pants, shirts, sweaters, and heavy-duty boots, but she loves an opportunity to dress up for an occasion.
“It was your mother’s birthday gift. We went shopping on Monday,” she explains.
“I wish I could have been there.”
“Next time, dear. We’re long overdue a good shopping trip.” Threading her arm in mine, she steers me over toward one of the purple velvet couches. Garrick is now wedged on the other couch, nestled snugly in between Mom on one side and Hadley on the other. They look like they’re firing questions at him, and he’s starting to look a little uncomfortable.
Ha!I’m almost proud of my mother and my bestie for rattling my man.
My man.
Look at me tossing that out without hesitation. I’ve got to admit it has a nice ring to it.
“You look smitten,” Nana says, pulling me down beside her on the couch. She looks over at Garrick with a contemplative expression on her face.
“I fear I am,” I truthfully reply, watching as she settles the bag on her lap.
“‘Nothing in life is to be feared. It is only to be understood,’” she replies, carefully unpacking the cross-stitch materials in the bag.
