Page 54 of Beg Me

SIXTEEN

Jory

“What does until it looks right mean?” I ask, peering into the skillet and wondering what the hell I did wrong.

Breakfast for dinner was supposed to be easy. Gus wanted my mom’s famous biscuits and gravy, and I figured it couldn’t be hard. And it’ll hopefully look fancy enough to impress Markie.

Markie.

A tug that I’m growing very familiar with pulls across my chest. This woman keeps me on my toes.

It took everything in me, and the fact that I had a kid sleeping in the other room so I couldn’t just leave, not to go to her house last night. It ate me up inside that she might not have understood where I was coming from when I told her that we had to put the brakes on things before they got out of hand. Or even if she did understand it, maybe I overstepped.

“I’m pretty sure that I know what I can and cannot handle, and I certainly don’t need you deciding that for me—regardless of your intentions.”

Markie is the strongest, fiercest woman that I’ve ever met, and her strength and intelligence are two of the things that I enjoy the most about her. She doesn’t back down from anything. She goes after what she wants … and she’s smart enough, and capable enough, to make those decisions for herself.

Mom sighs. “Until it looks right means keep stirring until it gets thick. Until it looks like gravy.”

“This mess is gonna wind up being gravy?” I make a face. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure if you followed the recipe I texted you. I’m less sure if you didn’t.”

I roll my eyes.

“Are you stirring? I don’t hear stirring,” she says like she’s fed up with me.

That makes me smile. “Yes, Mother. I’m stirring. Here. Listen.” I put the phone next to the skillet and stir for a few seconds before bringing it back to my ear. As I do that, the liquid magically changes … and turns into gravy. “Hey! Look at that. It’s thickening.”

“Shocking, I know.”

Chuckling, I turn the heat way down. “You know, I used to think that Gus got his smart-assness from me. But I think maybe we both got it from you.”

“Don’t you say such a thing about my sweet grandbaby,” she says, feigning shock.

“He’s eleven, you know? I get reminded of that all the time.”

“Oh, I know. It’s not one of my favorite things to think about, but yes, I know he’s eleven. Twelve, soon.” She sighs. “I miss you boys so much.”

My heart sinks.

I hate that I’ve been so far away from her for most of my adult life. We talk a lot, and I visit her every offseason and during the holidays, but it never seems enough. I’ve volunteered to rent her a place in whatever city I’m working in, but she says she likes her life with her friends in California. What’s a man to do? I don’t know. Live with the guilt, I guess.

“I miss you, too, Mama.”

“Are you good with the gravy? Need anything else?”

I survey the kitchen, finding the biscuits on the counter and a plate of bacon beside it because Gus looked at me like I was out of my mind when I told him that bacon doesn’t go with biscuits and gravy. “That’s what Gram does,” he’d said. I also did a few scrambled eggs in case Markie doesn’t like gravy. She’ll have options.

“Is dinner ready yet?” Gus asks from the table. His head is propped up on his hand while he pretends to do his math packet.

“Almost.” The gravy is perfect, so I shut off the heat. “I think we’re good, Mom. Thanks for your help.”

“Of course. Love you, baby boy.”

I grin. “Love you, Mama.”

“Love you, Gram!” Gus shouts from the table.