Page 68 of Imperfect Arrangement
“Willow,we can’t stand here forever.” Raymond nods toward the door, balancing a box of homemade cookies that magically appeared this afternoon. When I asked where they came from, he said his mom sent them the second she heard he was visiting my parents.
Cue my heart doing that weird stutter-step thing it’s been doing far too often lately. Because…we are treading into some seriously dangerous territory.
I glance down at Quill. She looks like a little fairy in her pink dress with little embroidered butterflies, clutching a bouquet of flowers so big it nearly swallows her. Meanwhile, I’m over here channeling full-on bodyguard mode, ready to shield these two from whatever verbal grenades Nana might throw their way.
“My mom could totally be adopted,” I say for the millionth time, turning to Raymond, who is so laid back right now that I think he’s a different man altogether.
“Got it, Willow. Now let’s move before your neighbors call the cops because they think we’re a family kidnapping your mother and grandmother.”
Family.The word hits harder than I’d like, sticking in my chest like a burr. Before I can unpack it, the door swings open.
“I thought I heard someone. What are you doing standing out here, Lolo?” Mom asks, pulling the door wide open and giving us a once-over.
“I was about to knock. I forgot my key,” I lie, because there’s no way I’m admitting the key is safely tucked in my purse while I was busy stalling.
“Oh, come on in, all of you,” Mom says, stepping aside to let us in.
As I hang my purse on the coat rack, I feel her gaze shift. It’s no longer on me but laser-focused on Raymond. And I know that look—it’s theIs he good enough for my daughter?look. I have no idea what conclusions she’s drawing, and before I can start sweating, Raymond takes a step forward.
“Hello, Miss Pershing,” Raymond says, offering his hand. Of course, he knows Mom goes by her maiden name. This is Cherrywood, and Raymond Teager is a keeper of information.
“Hello,” she replies, taking his hand with a polite smile. “Welcome to our home. I’m Stephanie. You can call me Steph. I hope this wasn’t too last minute for you.”
“Not at all. Surprisingly, both of our calendars were free,” Raymond says smoothly.
“And who’s this pretty little girl?” Mom leans forward, her earlier hesitation toward Raymond vanishing entirely as her attention shifts to Quill. Her smile is so genuine it makes me relax. A little.
“Mom, this is Quill, Raymond’s daughter.”
“Hi, honey,” Mom coos, crouching slightly. “I hope you like cupcakes, because I baked some pink ones just for you.”
The silence stretches for a beat too long, and then Quill glances up atme.I give her the most reassuring smile, even though my heart is beating frantically.
She finally turns back to Mom, signing, “I love pink cupcakes.”
Mom’s smile falters for a beat, but it’s enough for my protective instincts to kick in. I’m ready to escort the father-and-daughter duo back to the car. But then Mom’s expression softens into something warm and sincere. Her eyes shimmer a little as she says, “I’m so glad you do, sweetheart. I made lots of them. Now, come inside, and we’ll take those beautiful flowers to Willow’s nana. She’s been waiting to meet you.”
With that, she takes Quill’s hand and leads her inside like they’ve known each other forever.
“There you all are. I thought we’d have to starve waiting for you,” Nana announces dramatically, perched on her favorite spot on the couch.
“Raymond, this is my mom, Willow’s nana.” Mom gestures toward the source of my utmost strength most days. But today, she’s the one single-handedly responsible for all my stress.
“And you,” Nana declares, lifting her chin imperiously, “can call me the grand lady of the house. At least until I decide if you’re worthy enough to be my grandson-in?—”
“Nana, can I please talk to you alone?” I cut her off before she can finish that sentence.
Her eyes narrow, zeroing in on me and then they shift to Quill. Just like that, a switch flips, and suddenly Nana lights up like a teenager at a boy band concert.
“Aren’t you the cutest little button?” she gushes, her tone flipping from interrogation to sugar in a heartbeat. With a dramatic gasp, she clutches her chest. “Oh my God! I just realized—I’m a great-grandmother now!” She throws herself back onto the couch in a melodramatic faint, peeking out with one eye like she’s waiting for applause.
“Nana!” I hiss. So much for keeping Quill out of this. My gaze flicks to Raymond, whose expression is a mix of shock and mild horror. If I wasn’t so stressed, it would almost be funny.
“Mom…” I plead to the one person who might save us. She catches my silent SOS and jumps in.
“Quill, would you like to help me decorate cupcakes? That’s the last step before we can eat them.” Mom’s voice is warm and inviting, her smile genuine.
Quill glances up at Raymond and then at me, silently asking for permission. My heart clenches. How did I become someone this tiny human looks to for reassurance?
