Page 111 of When the Smoke Clears

“Jesus, Mom.” Will wrinkles his nose.

It’s really hard to keep from laughing, but I’m skilled at controlling my reactions to everyone except William Landry.

Steffi sips her wine. I think she’s had one too many glasses.

“Your feelings matter,” I say. “And you’re lucky to have a family who gives you a safe space to express those feelings without judgment.”

Steffi relaxes and reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “Will you marry my son?”

“Mom! I’m serious. Enough. No more wine. Maybe you should go to bed early. I’ll take care of the dinner mess.”

I bite back my grin and wink at her.

“You’re right. I’m exhausted.” She stands. “Do you drink coffee, Everleigh?”

I nod.

“Then I’ll see you back here in the morning for coffee. Good night.”

“Good night,” I say.

Will stands, giving her a hug and kiss on the cheek. “Love you,” he says.

We gather the dishes and take them into the kitchen. He sets out containers for the leftover food while I load the dishwasher.

“I regret inviting you here,” he says.

I giggle. “I know you do.”

“We’re a dead end.” He deposits the leftovers into the glass containers and snaps the lids onto them.

“We are,” I say.

“So why are you here?”

I run water in the sink and squirt dish soap into it. “You invited me.” He scoffs. “And I told you I’m here for your mom. A free place to stay. Excellent bison burgers. And I think I’ll add coffee with your delightful mother in the morning to the list of reasons. At this point, you’re just an afterthought.”

“I’m hurt.” He takes the spatula from me and dries it.

“Liar,” I say.

Thunk!

I drop the pan into the empty side of the sink when he swats my ass with the spatula. With a gasp, jaw on the floor, I stare at him through wide eyes while rubbing my ass. That stung.

“What the hell?”

He wipes the spatula again, as if he’s polishing it. Then, he slides it into the blue utensil crock next to the stove.

“That’s going to leave a mark.” I continue rubbing my butt.

“I hope so.”

“You jerk.” I turn on the faucet and click the spray nozzle, pointing it at him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He grabs my wrist, turning his head to the side as the water sprays in his face and chest. “You’re making a mess.” He shuts off the water.

“You started it.” I grab a handful of suds and wipe them on his face.