Twenty
Remi
“Do you know what she’s makin’?” Lukas asks from the passenger seat. He’s rubbing his thumb and index finger together, like I’ve noticed he does when he’s nervous.
“I’m not sure, but I made sure she knew what kind of foods you don’t like.”
“Okay…” He sighs in that dramatic, shoulder-heaving way all teenagers do. “But do I look all right?”
We’re on our way to my mom’s house for dinner. She and Lukas have met a couple of times, when she’s dropped stuff off at the house, but this will be her first time spending time with him. She’s an ER nurse, and despite her age, she works way more than she should. Between her schedule and mine, it’s rare we find a day when we’re both off work and free. I swear, that woman has more of a social life than I do. She’s been itching to have us over and to get to know Lukas.
My mom is nothing if not warm-hearted, and since the minute I told her about Lukas and the possibility of taking him in, she’s fully been in grandma mode. On the phone last night,she told me she got a few things for him, but with her, a “few things” could be anything.
I can’t help but smile as I glance over at Lukas. He wanted to wear “nice clothes” today—his words, not mine—but said he didn’t have anything that felt right. So, after I got off work yesterday, we went shopping. I let him pick out whatever outfit he wanted, and with the way his eyes lit up, you’d think I just told him he won the lottery. He went with a nice pair of khaki slacks, a hunter-green, short-sleeve button-down that he had me iron this morning, and his favorite pair of black Converse, and I must say, he’s looking pretty dapper.
“You look more than all right, kid,” I tell him as I turn onto my mom’s driveway. “Your clothes always look nice, though. Don’t doubt yourself.”
Putting the car in park next to her Camry, I don’t kill the ignition just yet.
“Hey.” I reach over and squeeze his leg. “It’s gonna be okay. My mom is very chill and laid back, I promise. And she’s so excited to get to know you.”
Lukas chews on the inside of his cheek. “You’ll stay with me the whole time?” he asks. “You know, in case we run outta stuff to talk about?”
My heart squeezes.This fucking kid.
“I’ll tell you what… I’ll be so close to you, you’ll be sick of me by the end of the night.”
His eyes light up as he laughs. “I doubt that. But thank you.”
“Of course, bud. What are strangers turned guardians for, if not to act as a buffer toward other strangers who are kind of like a pseudo-grandma to you?”
Brows furrowed with confusion, Lukas unbuckles his seatbelt. “That was sus, Remi. Don’t be cringe.” He climbs out of the truck, and I’m left staring at him, my mouth gaping.
I amnotcringe.
My mom’s at the door waiting for us, a tray of cookies in hand, as we climb the steps. “Hi, Lukas!” she exclaims. “I hope you like snickerdoodles. I made them fresh for you guys.”
“Hi, Mrs. Buchanan. I’m not sure I’ve ever had one of those, but I’ll try one. They smell really good.”
“Honey, no need to be so formal. If you’d like, you can call me Nana.”
“Oh, uh…” Lukas glances at me before turning back to her. “Thank you.”
Breathing out a small chuckle, I run my hand across my throat in a dry, exaggerated cut-it-out motion. She means well, but my gosh, does she come on strong. “Lukas, why don’t you head inside, and we’ll meet you in there,” I say. “Turn on whatever you’d like on the TV.”
“What? I’m just tryin’ to be welcomin’ to the boy,” she murmurs as he disappears inside. “I want him to know we accept him.”
“I know you are, Mom. But ease into it a bit, would ya? No need to freak him out, or he might tell you that you’re sus.”
“Sus?” My mom’s face twists up. “Well, what the heck does that mean?”
“Beats me.” I shrug before strolling past her into the house.
I love it here. Even though I don’t make it over here nearly as much as I’d like, it’s always a breath of fresh air stepping inside my childhood home. I was brought home from the hospital to this house. Grew up here. Went through multiple broken bones, a whole lot of self-discovery, and even the greatest heartbreak I’ve ever known in this house. It holds so many memories. It smells the same every time I come—old wood, lemon, coffee that’s been reheated too many times, and rich and sweet with whatever treat my mom baked that week.
It smells likehome.
“Wanna tour?” I ask Lukas as I kick off my boots.
