Page 99 of The Puck Contract

Helen beams. "It was my grandmother's. Do you cook, Mateo?"

"I… try," I say, which is both diplomatic and technically true. "My grandmom taught me a few traditional dishes. Her osso buco is legendary in our family."

"You'll have to make it for us sometime," Helen says, and the casual assumption of future visits makes my heart skip.

"I'd like that," I say, meaning it. "Fair warning though—I once set pasta on fire. Actual flames. My roommate had to use the fire extinguisher."

"How do you set pasta on fire?" Maya asks, fascinated.

"That's the question the fire department also had." I shake my head ruefully. "Apparently, you shouldn't leave empty cardboard pasta boxes on the stove while the burner's on."

Groover laughs. "He's not exaggerating. I've witnessed his kitchen disasters firsthand."

"Hey, I make excellent coffee," I protest. "And I can operate a microwave with minimal supervision."

"Such talent," he teases, eyes crinkling at the corners.

"I'd love to meet your family sometime too," Helen says, refilling my water glass. "Are they in Chicago?"

"Florida," I reply. "I just talked to them today, actually. Told them about..." I gesture between Groover and myself, suddenly self-conscious. "Us."

Helen's expression softens. "And how did that go, honey?"

"Better than I expected. They want to meet him too."

"That's wonderful," she says, reaching across to squeeze my hand. "It's not always easy, but family is family."

After dinner, Maya insists on showing me her book collection while Helen and Groover clean up. As we browse her impressively organized shelves, she leans in conspiratorially.

"He looks at you different than the others, you know."

I nearly drop the book I'm examining. "What?"

"Ansel. The way he watches you when you're talking—it's different." She selects a volume, handing it to me. "I've seen him with other guys he's dated. It was never like this."

"Like what?" I ask, heart hammering against my ribs.

She considers for a moment. "Like you're a puzzle he's trying to solve, but also a story he already knows by heart." She shrugs. "It's nice. He deserves someone who makes him look like that."

Before I can formulate a response, Groover appears in the doorway. "Ready to head out? Early practice tomorrow."

"Sure," I say, handing the book back to Maya. "Thanks for the recommendation."

"Keep it," she insists. "You can return it next time you visit."

Next time.

Goodbyes are prolonged and affectionate. Helen hugs me twice, pressing leftovers into my hands and extracting a promise to come back soon. Maya slips me her phone number "for book recommendations and embarrassing Ansel stories."

In the car, Groover glances over at me. "So? Verdict?"

"They're amazing," I say honestly. "Your mom is incredible."

"She likes you," he says, reaching over to squeeze my knee. "A lot. I can tell."

"The rainbow flag was nice touch."

He laughs. "Told you she's not subtle. She's probably already ordering wedding venues as we speak."

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