I’ll be my sister’s cheerleader any day of the week because I know she’ll step up to bat for me if need be.
She’s talked my parents down from the marriage ledge before. They want to see all four of their children happy, but they forget that not all life stories have to end with a wedding and kids.
“Put the chicken in the oven for an hour, give or take.” She wipes her hands on the apron that’s tied around her waist. “Toss the potatoes onto the pan thirty minutes before you eat and the asparagus twenty-five minutes after that.”
“Got it,” I say with a brisk nod.
“I wrote it down for you.” She jerks a thumb over her shoulder toward the kitchen. “I brought a chocolate cake for dessert. It’s Keats’s favorite.”
Good for him.
When I mentioned to my mom via text yesterday that I was going to cook dinner for a friend, she assumed it was Keats since he’s the only person who ever shows up here for a meal.
Typically, he brings take-out, but my mom popped by unannounced one night when Keats was practicing his spaghetti making skills.
My mom took over and prepared a feast for both of us.
I didn’t ask her to make the trek down here today with groceries in hand, but I sure as hell didn’t order her out of my kitchen.
She tugs on the short hairs of my beard. “You look tired, Wolf.”
Cradling her hand in mine, I kiss her open palm. “I’m fine.”
Pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, she looks me over from head-to-toe. “You should go to bed after dinner.”
That’s the plan.
“I need to go,” she announces. “Your dad and I are meeting friends for dinner at a new bistro.”
Pushing her fingers through the brown curls on her hair, she glances up at me. “How do I look?”
“Beautiful,” I say without hesitation. “You’re the best. Never forget that, Mom.”
Patting me on the cheek, she smiles. “I promise I won’t. Save the leftovers and soak the pan before you put it in the dishwasher.”
Memories of my childhood in the cramped apartment we lived in uptown flood over me. I pulled dishes duty almost every week. It meant one-on-one time with her, so I never complained.
“Do you want me to walk you to the subway stop?”
“Nicholas taught me all about Uber,” she says as she heads for her leather bag slung over the back of one of the chairs in the living room. “It’s my new thing.”
I smile at the grin on her face. “Looks like you’re set.”
“I love you, son.” She steps toward me, pointing a finger at the framed picture. “We all do.”
I know they do. I’m a lucky man. I’ve got my family behind me, and an evening in front of me with the most beautiful woman in Manhattan.
“I come bearing gifts.”Athena pushes a small round vase filled with purple flowers into my hands. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Why the fuck would I mind?
She showed up to my apartment dressed in a purple silk blouse, black jeans, and a touch of pink lipstick on her mouth.
I set the flowers in the middle of my coffee table. “Please work your magic.”
Tossing her purse at me, she walks over to the table and spins the vase half a turn. “It’s perfect, isn’t it?”
My eyes are glued to her ass. “So perfect.”
