“Take it easy on him,” she murmurs to us. “He’s had a rough day. Something about a newbie using the wrong kind of wood at work.”
“A rough day, huh?” Nate asks weakly. “Awesome.”
“Nate, Maisie,” Dad says. “Come smell dinner. It’s the only decent part of this god-awful day.”
Nate stares at him like he’s a snake ready to attack, but I join him to see what he’s made. “It smells good,” I reply. “It always does.”
“Thanks. You look good. Healthy.” He turns to Nate. “You both do.”
“That’s what I was thinking, Jeff.” Mom walks over and throws an arm around Dad. “I told you she would be fine on a cruise.”
“Yeah, but not with that idiot fiancé.” He eyes me. “Take a little more time with dating next time. Really think about it.”
My laugh is stilted and I glance at Nate.
We aresofucked.
Mom loops her arm through mine and tugs me into the backyard. “Oh, Maisie, I’ve missed you. Have I shown you how the tomatoes are doing? I’ll have to send some home with the both of you.”
“You haven’t. I’m sure Nate would?—”
“Nate hasn’t seen my barbecue yet,” Dad says. “Why are you hanging out in the corner, kid? Get over here.”
Nate slowly walks over to Dad as I’m dragged away. My parents don’t have a massive yard, so I’m able to hear everything Dad says. Luckily, my father seems none the wiser to us as he tells Nate every detail about how to cook meat.
“And you have to take it really slow. Patience is key. You get me, right?”
“Uh, yeah. Of course I do.”
“Good kid. You always were smart.”
“So,” Mom says. “You seem a little ... tense.”
“Tense? Me?” I laugh. “Not at all. I’m fine. Good, even.”
She raises an eyebrow. “I’m guessing there will be some news at the dinner table, yes?”
“M-maybe.”
“I’ll prepare myself.” She pats my arm. “And your father.”
I have no idea if Mom has any inkling of what I’m about to say,but she doesn’t give me a chance to probe because she launches into talking about all of the tomatoes she has. I help her water the garden before Dad announces the food is ready.
Nate and I always set the table, so we go inside to do just that.
“How are we playing this?” he whispers as we put forks down.
“Mom knows something is coming.”
“She figures things out way too quickly,” he says with a sigh.
“Like the time we snuck into a rated-R movie when we were fifteen?”
He shudders. “I’ve never seen her so mad.”
“I seriously doubt she’ll be angry. And Dad might disagree about the timing, but we’ll be okay.”
“I know we will be.” He takes a breath. “I just ... like how things are right now. It feels like I still have a family, even after my mom died.”
