Lovely (23 page)

“I’ll catch you later,” he calls out as he heads down the hallway to his class. “I’ve got to go deal with Professor Gladstone.”

“Later, Jason.”

“Our next assignment is to write a poem that pulls out a deep feeling.” Professor Travinski waves his hands in the air dramatically. “I’m not talking about a poem about a spoon, or a book, or,” he looks directly at me, “even a pizza. No, I’m talking about one that comes from your heart. One you can feel, one you can breathe, one that has relevance.”

More poetry
. I smile to myself. At least I know Cara will be glad to help me.

I hear all sorts of noises coming from the kitchen when I get home. It sounds like pots banging or maybe even being dropped to the floor. Mom is knee deep in a cabinet; I can only see her feet.

“Mom, what are you doing?”

“Hey, hon,” she says, her voice muffled. “I’m looking for a certain pot I need to make the chicken marsala.

“Chicken marsala? That sounds kind of fancy.”

“No, it’s not, but it’s delicious, and since we’re having a special guest, I thought I’d make something different.”

I open the fridge and find a peach in the fruit bin. “Do you need me to do anything?”

“No, sweetie, I’m good.”

I take a bite of peach, the tangy chunk stinging my tongue. “Where are Colt and Delilah?”

“Oh, I asked them to go to the store to get mushrooms and a couple of other things.”

She digs herself out of the cabinet and places the pot on the island. “I’m really looking forward to meeting Cara.”

“Yeah, me too. Although I’m a bit nervous, seeing as it’s been forever since I’ve brought a girl home.”

She ruffles my hair with her fingers and cups her palm against my cheek. “You’ve had some of your other friends over before.”

I take her hand and leave the kitchen, settling myself onto the couch in the living room. “You know what I mean, Mom.”

She scoots next to me and pats my knee. “Ah, you mean someone you really care about.”

I lean back against the couch, letting out a loud sigh. “Is it that obvious?”

She smiles, her eyes aglow with pride. “Well, maybe not to anyone else, but I’m your mother, so to me, yes, it is.”

“She’s … I don’t know how to explain it, Mom. How I feel when I’m with her—it’s amazing. She’s just different. She makes me feel … happy.”

Mom brings her hand back to her own face. “I know. That’s how I felt about your dad. It wasn’t something I could put into words … it just
was
.”

We stand up and I look deeply into her eyes, my long arms engulfing her petite frame. “I wish Dad could’ve met Cara,” I whisper into her hair.

“Me too, sweetie, me too.”

At 5:30, I head over to pick up Cara. By the time I make it to her house, my palms are sweaty and my throat is dry. I have to keep reminding myself that it’s only dinner. I walk back and forth across the porch, scraping a hand through my hair as I wait for her to answer the door. When she finally does, and I see her, my heart stops. Why? Because she’s heart-stoppingly beautiful. Every. Single. Time. She’s wearing a bright yellow and blue flowered dress reminiscent of the sun and sky and her curls fall lazily over her shoulders. Her outer beauty is exquisite but it’s so much more than that. It’s her spirit that cocoons me, causing warmth to spread rapidly through my body like wildfire, flooding my entire being with what feels like happiness.

“You look so pretty.”

“Thanks.” She inches her body up to mine. “Hi,” she breathes, her lips covering mine in an instant.

“I like being greeted like that.”

She bats her eyelashes at me. “There’s a lot more where that came from.”

I look down at my perpetual hard-on.
Don’t tease him like that
. I wait for her to grab her bag, and when she comes back out she has a beautiful bouquet of spring flowers. “You shouldn’t have,” I say.

“I didn’t,” she jokes and pinches me. “They’re for your mom, hotshot.”

We get in the car and something odd strikes me. “Hey, didn’t you forget something?” I ask, looking pointedly at her.

“Forget what?”

“Your glasses?”

She shrugs, playing with the tissue paper surrounding the flowers. “Oh, those. I don’t feel like wearing them.”

I shake my head, confusion furrowing my brow. “What do you mean? How are you going to see?”

She looks down, her hair a curtain around her face. “Well, they aren’t prescription.”

“What?” I ask her, again, because she’s not making any sense.

“I don’t need glasses, Ash,” she says so low I almost can’t hear her words. “Well … I … felt like I needed them before. But,” she raises her eyes and the veil around her face disappears, “I don’t feel like I need them now.”

I thought there wasn’t any more space in my heart, but somehow she just managed to fill it up a little bit more.

I steal glances over at her while I’m driving. She seems very pensive, looking out the window and rolling her hair around her fingers. “You okay?” I interrupt her thoughts.

She looks back over at me. “Yeah, I’m just … nervous.”

“Why?”

“Ash, I’m meeting your family, that’s why. I’ve never had a family … I mean, a family like yours, anyway. It’s just me and my sister, and I don’t know … I want them to like me.”

I tug on her hand and ease her closer. “Just be you. They’re going to love you.” Bringing her fingers to my lips, I brush soft kisses over each one and guide her hand to rest on my thigh.

“Hello!” I call out as Cara and I walk in the door, the wonderful smell of butter, mushrooms and basil filling the house.

“We’re in here,” Mom replies.

On the way to the kitchen, Cara stops and admires the family pictures lining the wall. There are framed photographs of us on various trips, school portraits, and several from my parents’ wedding. She pauses in front of a picture of Dad, Colt, and me at an Angels game in Anaheim. She turns to me, then studies the picture before her eyes land on me again. She raises her finger to rub the stubble on my jaw. “You look just like your dad,” she says, smiling. “So handsome.” She glances back at the picture. “You have that same light in your eyes.”

I lean forward, smoothing my hand over the back of her hair and press a kiss to her forehead. Taking her hand in mine, we stroll happily into the kitchen.

Delilah does a double take, and I have to glare at Colt to pick his jaw up off the floor.

Mom walks right over to Cara and pulls her into a warm, welcoming hug. “Cara, it’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard lots of good things from Ash.”

“It’s great to meet you, too, Mrs. Taylor.” She holds out the flowers. “Here, these are for you.”

“Thank you.” Mom winks at me and opens a cabinet to pull out a vase. She fills it with water, cuts the stems, and fusses with the tulips and daisies until she has them arranged perfectly.

“Cara, this is my brother, Colt, and of course you already know Delilah.” I slap Colt and whisper, “close your mouth, bro.”

Delilah gives her a hug and pulls back, looking at her through squinted eyes. “I didn’t recognize you without your glasses.” Leave it to my outspoken little sister to point out the obvious.

Cara doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah. I decided it was time for a change.” She touches my arm, a blissful smile falling from her lips.

“Well, I never saw you before,” Mom adds, “but I think you look great.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Taylor.”

Mom’s milling around the kitchen, putting food into various casserole dishes and setting the drinks on the table. “I hope you like chicken, Cara, because I made chicken marsala.”

Cara shuffles over to the kitchen counter where Mom’s standing. “Yes, I love it. Can I help do something?” she offers.

Mom removes the chicken from the oven and places it on the stove. “No, honey, we’re all set. You just have a seat and make yourself comfortable. Would you like a drink?”

“I’m fine right now, thanks,” Cara replies, and I notice her taking everything in; a house full of family memories, Colt, Delilah and me razzing each other, and Mom’s excitement about our meal together.

My heart aches for her. I can’t help but wish she could’ve had this growing up, too.

We don’t usually sit in the dining room, but tonight is an exception. Mom has gone all out and has the china and sterling silver ready to be laid out on the table. Cara’s getting the royal treatment, exactly as she deserves.

Cara helps Delilah set the table while I walk over to Colt.

“Your mouth’s still open, dude,” I admonish quietly. “Knock it off.”

“Jesus, Ash!” Colt whispers excitedly. “I didn’t even recognize her from school. She works at the library, right? She’s hot.”

Jealousy rears its ugly head in front of my brother and I smack his arm. He scowls and rubs it.

Mom takes a seat at the head of the table and I sit down next to Cara, Delilah and Colt directly across from us. Moving my seat closer to Cara, I edge my thigh nearer to hers under the table. I can’t stop touching her. I don’t want to ever stop touching her.

We all look up when we hear the clinking of glass and Mom clearing her throat. “I just wanted to express how thankful I am that my baby boy is healthy and that Cara’s here, finally joining us for dinner.”

Colt raises his glass prompting us all to clink glasses together. “Here, here! To being alive and sitting across from such a hot girl.”

Cara’s cheeks turn apple red while I narrow my eyes at Colt and pick up a dinner roll, contemplating chucking it at his head.

Mom flashes me a knowing grin. “Would you like some butter for your roll, Ash?”

I smile and take a bite, picturing all of the ways I’ll pay Colt back later.

“So, Cara,” Mom says between sips of water, “Ash tells me that you like to read and you also write poetry.”

“Yes, I do,” Cara replies, her smile exuding confidence. “I’m a bit of a book nerd actually. I started reading when I was young and have loved it ever since. The poetry piece started as a way to express myself and it blossomed from there.”

“That’s good,” Colt interrupts, “because Ash here can’t write poetry for shit, so you can help him out with that.”

“Colt.” Mom narrows her eyes and glares at him, silently telling him to watch his mouth.

“Actually, he’s pretty poetic,” Cara enthuses, threading her fingers through mine.

“Really?” The look of surprise on Delilah’s face makes me want to laugh. “Let’s hear something.”

I shake my head and take a bite of chicken, hoping to avoid this conversation altogether. “I don’t think so. I just can’t seem to think of anything off the top of my head right now.”

Cara swallows some water and sets her glass down. “How about the pizza one?” she says, clicking her teeth together and laughing.

I glower at her, a smile tipping the corners of my mouth.

“What pizza one?” Delilah asks, intent on pursuing this conversation.

“Never mind,” I answer with a frustrated growl and edge closer to Cara. “You’re going to pay for that later,” I whisper.

She squeezes my thigh. The funny thing is, I felt it in my dick.

Silence ensues for a few minutes while everyone eats until Colt pipes up, putting his fork down and catching Cara’s attention. “So, Cara, what do you see in my brother?”

I silently throw darts at his chest and Mom shoots him a dirty look.

“Colt!” she says, annoyed.

“Oh, it’s totally fine,” Cara interrupts. “What
do
I see in him?” She tilts her head as if she has to think really hard, before focusing her dazzling brown eyes on mine. “Everything.”

Talk about knowing how to silence a crowd. If Dad were here, he’d tell a joke. Delilah stops with her fork midway to her lips, Colt has his mouth hanging open again, and Mom has a full-on Colgate smile. My heart is suddenly exploding in my chest and the only thing I want to do right now is take this girl … no, this woman, in my arms and kiss the hell out of her.

“Colt, are you taking Stacy to Charlie’s party in two weeks?” Delilah asks.

I finally pull away from Cara’s gaze when I hear Delilah’s question. “What party is that?” I ask. I have absolutely no idea what they’re talking about.

“His annual formal bash,” she replies with a mouthful of chicken.