Page 33 of Not Your Basic Love Story

I reached over and took his hand. He gave it a squeeze and then offered a reassuring smile. I should have been the one reassuring him, not the other way around, but his calm demeanour soothed my nerves.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

Was I ready? I looked into his warm brown eyes, admired his perfect smile, relished in his extraordinary sense of peace that washed over me when I needed it most. Hell yeah, I was ready.

We left the bags in the car and headed up to the side door, which was already open and waiting. My mom rushed out and embraced me in a hug, her box blonde pixie cut hair-sprayed to the point of crunching where it pressed against the side of my face.

“Oh, Becky! It’s been so long! It takes you bringing a boy home to come visit your mama, does it?”

“Hi mom.” I gasped, the air being squeezed out of my lungs.

She released me and turned her attention to Dev. “Oh, Becky, he’s sohandsome!” she gushed and then ignored his extended hand and went in for a hug, too.

I mouthed‘sorry’at Dev while he patted my mom on the back.

“Come in, come in!” she said, releasing her hug only to grab him by the hand and pull him inside. I followed close behind, second-guessing if this was a good idea.

The side door entered into the kitchen, which hadn’t been updated since the seventies. It looked just as it had in my childhood: plain white cabinets with white laminate countertops, faded yellow linoleum floor, white appliances, and a fridge absolutely covered in tacky magnets and old photos. Even though Nana had passed away, they hadn’t renovated; my mom was adamant in keeping it the exact same, as if it could preserve her memory within the space.

I sniffed the air. “What are you cooking, mom?”

“Oh, your dad’s favourite! Hawaiian chicken with rice,” she said, rushing over to the crockpot to peek inside.

My stomach dropped. “Mom, I told you Dev’s a vegetarian!”

She turned on the spot. “No, you didn’t! I’d remember something like that!”

“It’s fine,” Dev started to say.

“I called you last week, remember?”

“You did call me last week, but you didn’t mention the vegetarian thing. I’m sorry, Dave. At least you can eat the rice!”

I face-palmed myself.

“Rice is delicious, Karen. Thank you. I’ll go get the bags,” he said before escaping back outside. I couldn’t blame him. I wanted to run away, too.

I closed the space between my mom and I as she got to work chopping carrots. “Mom, his name is Dev.”

“Oh! Short for Devon?”

“No, mom, it’s not Devon or Dave or… whatever. It’s Dev. Please, try to be nice.”

“Becky, I’m always nice.”

I tried not to roll my eyes. Coming here had been a mistake. Poor Dev was probably working on an excuse to leave as soon as possible. “Where’s dad?” I asked, suddenly realizing he wasn’t there.

“Down by the dock. Can you take him another beer? Grab one for Dev, too.”

“He doesn’t drink, which I also told you on the phone last week.”

“If you say so, Becky.” Chop, chop, chop.

I left mom to her vegetables, forgetting the beer, panic starting to rise in my chest. Outside, Dev was texting on his phone. The trunk was popped open, but the bags were still inside. This was it: the excuse of something awful happening and him having to leave right away. I’d go with it, honestly.

I approached, hesitant. “Hey, I’m sorry. I promise I told her you’re a vegetarian. And I don’t know why she keeps getting your name wrong. If you want to leave, I totally get it. You don’t have to make an excuse. We can just pack up and go home.”

Dev slid his phone back into his pocket and embraced me in a hug with a light chuckle. “Rebecca, it’s fine. Your mom seems nice. And this place, it’s beautiful. I can’t believe you got to grow up here.”

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