Page 31 of You & I, Rewritten

Graham puts his hands up in surrender and heads into the living room to join the others, clearly uncomfortable not helping but doing his best to appear relaxed.

“What can I do, mom?”

She places a cutting board in front of me. “Can you finish the salad? Everything you’ll need is in the produce drawer.”

I head to the fridge, grabbing the armful of ingredients she’s loaded up on and set them down in the sink. I meticulously wash the lettuce and vegetables, dry them, and place them in front of me on the counter.

“So?” my mom whispers, coming up next to me and gently nudging me with her hip.

“So, what?”

She groans dramatically, resulting in Graham briefly turning his attention in our direction. The two of us giggle but pretend not to notice.

“Don’t hold out on me, Will…give me thedetails!Please, please please…” she begs like a child, tugging on my arm, making it impossible for me to cut the bell pepper I had in my hand.

“Oh my gosh, mom…okay, okay!” I say, knowing that she for sure won’t let this go until I give hersomethingto appease her curiosity. “Things are going really well. As you know, Klair, Graham, and I all work together and he’s just…” My voice trails off as I lift my gaze to watch Graham. He’s standing now, looking at the collage of family photos hanging in the living room while Dean and my dad are absorbed in a conversation about college football.

“…drop dead gorgeous?” my mom finishes my sentence with another nudge of her hip.

“I mean,obviously,” I say, turning toward her, setting the knife down on the cutting board. “But beyondthat,it’s hard to explain…with Graham, everything just feels right. Like somewhere along the way, he and I weremeantto find one another. Cliché, huh?”

She takes my hand in hers. “I think most people would call that lucky, son. It sounds pretty serious…” It’s always been easy to talk to my mom. There are certain things that she justknowswithout having to go into too much detail.But this is a first for us…I’ve never had a serious,seriousrelationship before. Definitely not one I included my family in, so part of me is thrilled at her excitement.

“Itfeelspretty serious,” I admit, meeting her warm gaze. “I’m really falling for him, Mom.”

She gives me another hug, her mother’s intuition knowing that I probably need it.She’s right.“I’d say the feeling is mutual…”

“How can you know that? You’ve met Graham for all of five seconds…”

“Oh honey…I think the entire neighborhood could feel the sparks you two were putting off in the driveway,” she says, patting me hard on the cheek. “Now, can you hurry up on that salad? I’m starving.”

A classic Liz Cowen mic drop.

Ah, how I’ve missed this.I can’t help but laugh at my all-too-knowing mother as she returns her attention back to dinner prep. Graham is still noisily exploring our family pictures, but he’s now joined by my dad who keeps pointing out picture after picture, his enthusiasm growing with each one. It appears the two of them are getting along perfectly.

Just as I’m about to place the salad I prepared—quite expertly, if I do say so myself—on the dining room table, the doorbell rings.

“Ooh, that must be Lana!” I say, hurrying off toward the front door, the nerves I’d felt earlier slowly creeping their way back in.

“Hey…you made it!” I say, opening the door a little too hard, causing it to slam loudly against the wall. Lana is dressed minimally in a camel-colored sweater paired with skinny jeans tucked into brown leather boots.

“I told you I would.” She laughs as I raise my eyebrow at her, remembering our history. “Okay, touché…but this is different. It’s your family!” Despite the confidence in her voice, I can sense her hesitancy.

“Well, come on in…I promise they won’t bite.At first.” I step aside, signaling her to come inside.

“Ha Ha…here,” she says, handing me the bowl she’d been holding as she passes. “I brought a salad.” Of course, she did.

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

Grahamand I are now alone in my childhood room after enjoying far too much food and even more wine. Lana left first, but only after she impressed me with her ability to field every question my parents threw her way, matching their charisma and enthusiasm. Mostly about what it was like working with me and if I was taking care of her…but they did manage to pry some interesting information from her usually tight-lipped self.

For instance, I learned she’s from the Midwest originally and that she is fluent in four languages. Klair and Dean stayed a little while longer, succumbing to my mother’s insistence that we all play cards. But eventually, they called it a night, taking my car back to the city so that I could conveniently ride home with Graham. I was hoping tonothave to spend the night in my childhood bedroom, but Graham surprised me by thinking it would be fun.

So, here we are.

For as much as I was worried, tonight went exceptionally well, especially between Graham and my parents. From the second he stepped into our house, they welcomed him with warmth and the traditional Cowen enthusiasm that I was was certain would overwhelm him, but per usual, Graham handled every moment of tonight with grace and charm.

Of the two of us, I think I was the overwhelmed one.

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