Page 141 of This Could Be Us

She smiles into our kiss.

“And I love being happy with you.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

SOLEDAD

That looks delicious, Soledad.”

I absorb Margaret Cross’s praise and study the macaroni and cheese fresh out of the oven.

“You think so?” I ask, doubt apparent in my voice as steam rises from the pan. “I hope they’ll like it.”

“Now listen,” Margaret says from the iPad screen propped against my kitchen backsplash. “Those boys are as picky as can be. They still throw out some of Tremaine’s food sometimes.”

“I have actually experienced that for myself. We did three test runs. I made it and took it over to the house. The last time, Adam ate some. Aaron, however, promptly walked his over to the trash and dumped it.”

We both laugh, and it eases some of my anxiety, not just about Judah’s boys eating my mac and cheese but about our two families getting together for the first time.

“You nervous?” Judah’s mother asks, a small smile playing on her lips.

“That obvious, huh?” I run damp palms down the front of my apron. “Very.”

“There’s nothing to be nervous about. You’ve met Tremaine. She’s just glad Judah finally found someone. Kent likes whoever Tremaine likes. The boys already know you, and you have the boxed mac and cheese on standby, right?”

“Yeah.” I chuckle. “I know I could just make the boxed stuff forthem and save myself a lot of hard work and heartache, but I had to try.”

“Then it must beyourfamily you’re nervous about,” she says, her expression understanding.

I glance around, making sure my girls are all upstairs. “Yeah. A little. I assume you know about my ex and Judah and—”

“Yes, I’m aware. Life is always gonna be complicated, but the good stuff is worth fighting for. I know Judah thinks you’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to him.”

Warmth blooms from my heart up to my cheeks. “I feel the same way about him.”

“Then do what you gotta do to make this work. I have a feeling it won’t be as hard as you think.”

“I hope you’re right.”

A set of footsteps pounding down the stairs cuts me off.

“I should go. Thanks again for all your help with the recipe, Mrs. Cross.”

“Now I done told you to call me Margaret,” she chuckles. “I hope you can manage it by the time my son brings you to meet us.”

“I’ll try my best. Is your husband still making those Crock-Pot recipes?” I grin into the camera.

“Yes. That last one with the ground beef was the best so far.”

“Awesome. Tell him I said hi. We’ll talk later. Gotta go.”

We sign off just as Lupe comes in.

“Need any help?” she asks, glancing around the kitchen.

“You can take these dishes into the dining room,” I tell her, untying my apron.

“Okay.” She grabs a serving dish of cabbage and peruses me critically. “You look nice, Mom.”

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