“Oh, jeez, Kevin. You’re such a jerk.” Sandy dropped what Vivian now realized was some sort of transatlantic accent. She looked at the caviar spread. “Well, now you know we’re frauds. I’m starving.” She smiled at Vivian, and it carried the same sunrise warmth Bryn always had. “How do you feel about seven-layer dip?”
Vivian relaxed. “Sounds wonderful,” she lied, but she was eager to taste the real food of Bryn’s family. A family who’d worried as much about meeting her as she had them. Who’d wanted to impressher, when she was the only one who should be trying to win favor.
And then she realized, to her abject horror, she might already like them. Already loved the people who’d made Bryn. Who’d given her the love and safety to blossom into the singular human being she’d become.
“Viv, wait until you taste these ribs,” Kevin shouted from the kitchen. “I won a blue ribbon.”
“It was from our mother, and she will take bribes,” Bryn’s father chimed in.
Kevin laughed, a bright sound that must run in the family. “Well, maybe a certified famous person will like them too, Peter. Get off my back.”
“Oh, Jesus. Vivian doesn’t eat ribs. Do you eat ribs?” Sandy looked back and forth from the living room to the kitchen.
“You’re gonna give her that avocado-bean-cheese thing, but think she’s too fancy for ribs?” Kevin shouted.
“It’s not a thing, it’s adip,” she clarified loudly. “And I got it fromSouthern Living’s top recipes of all time.”
“Have you ever met Morgan Freeman?” A woman with red hair and Bryn’s eyes leaned over.
“Aunt Kim, don’t?—”
Vivian didn’t let Bryn cut the woman short.
“Once, yes.” Vivian leaned forward.
“Is he as nice as he seems?” Aunt Kim asked, like she was really digging for deep gossip. That was it. Proximity to celebrity and the first question was how nice a beloved Hollywood figure was in real life. Vivian was almost lightheaded from relief.
“He held an elevator open for me and offered his hand to help me and my long awards gown.”
“What about Sandra Bullock? You ever meet her?” a young woman Bryn’s age, a cousin she guessed, asked next. “Is she funny?”
“Who’s the tallest actor you’ve ever met?” one of the teen boys now standing asked, climbing to his tiptoes to surpass the boy next to him.
“Well, let’s eat my award-winning ribs before they get cold,” Kevin called from the kitchen.
“Might as well release the little kids from the get-all-the-screen-time-you-can prison,” Sandy said with a laugh and gestured toward one of the young women. A moment later, several small and incredibly loud children appeared in the living room.
Without warning, Bryn’s family home shed the rest of its veneer. Controlled chaos unfolded quickly. Sandy shouted orders like a coach. She sent her husband for paper plates. The ones she described as “nice, with the plastic coating. Not the cheap ones for the cat.” Vivian didn’t get a chance to ask for clarification before Kim tasted Kevin’s ribs and decided they were “fine but dry.”
“They’re not dry!” Kevin protested like he’d been punched hard in the gut.
“A little dry,” Peter agreed, appearing with a stack of plates that definitely weren’tthe good onesjudging by Sandy’s expression.
“Oh, now you’re a food critic?” Kevin shot back. “Mr. I-Put-Ketchup-On-Steak?”
“One time! And I was twelve!”
“You okay?” Bryn’s hand found Vivian’s thigh, squeezing gently. “I’d like to say this isn’t what my family is normally like, but you’re getting it all at once.”
Vivian nodded, but didn’t trust herself to speak. She was more than okay. For the first time in her life, she was living something she’d only ever performed. Family, real and messy and legitimately arguing about condiments. There was no script or camera or microphone separating her from the moment. She was living it in high-definition 4D, and it was alive and colorful and shockingly glorious.
“Viv, you want a beer?” Kevin presented her with a lovely plate of ribs and too many sides. “It goes real nice with the hickory.”
“Hickory,” Peter repeated, like he’d spent a lifetime showing his love with little jabs. “Should’ve gone with oak.”
“Vivian doesn’t drink beer,” Sandy said, horrified while directing the kids bringing in several folding tables and chairs to set up in the living room. “I got that fancy wine from the Whole Foods, open that!”
“Beer would be great,” Vivian said and tried not to think about the consequences.
