Page 78 of Almost Home
Wyatt’s apron—yes, he wore an apron—had retro-looking lettering spelling outReal Men Garnish.
“Jealous of my apron?” he asked, still not looking up.
“I was admiring it, yes.”
“Calla bought it for me. It’s from my favorite food blogger. This is her motto.” He fluttered a hand across his torso and gave me a goofy look.
“Guess you’ll have to make me a real man and tell me how to garnish, then.”
“Oh, you’ll need more help than just garnishing,” Warrick said with a wink as he gently folded a clean towel over the rolls.
“No. He will not. It’s literally all in the garnish. She hasReal Humans GarnishandReal Women Garnishand all kinds of other iterations. I take this to mean you are a real version of yourself if only you garnish.” Wyatt’s brows flared as he rough-chopped some dark green leaves.
“I didn’t realize I’d been missing so much of myself until just this moment,” I said, moving to the sink and washing up before diving in to sprinkle the dark greens flecks of parsley over the sliced chicken. Then, he had me add chopped chives to a steaming plate of yellowy spring potatoes shiny with butter.
“That’s what coming home’ll do for you, Wilder,” Mom said as she grabbed the basket of rolls. “Let’s eat!”
Everyone piled into the dining area. They’d added a leaf to the table and set it for all of us. Each brother and his date, and my mom at the head of the table. I could hardly remember family meals with my father, but missing him felt natural in a moment like this. I let the sensation seep in between my ribs and mix right along with the sweet, honeyed feeling of being surrounded by people I loved.
Yes. Loved.
There was no denying it—no point in even trying. I’d been a goner the minute I saw Sarah at twelve, and I hadn’t ever stopped. This love was old and new. Quiet for so many years, it clanged against my mind, demanding to be spoken and paraded around, demanding outlet and announcement. I grabbed Sarah’s hand on my right and Mom’s on my left.
Her prayer was brief and vibrant. Heartfelt and perfectly apt to verbalize what the abundant fullness in my chest embodied.
“Bless this table full of love. We thank you for the beauty of life, forgiveness, healing, and especially love.”
Theamensechoed around the table, and then the conversation rocketed off, everyone grabbing the nearest bowl or platter and serving dish. I glanced at Sarah and could see a little bit of the nerves she’d had earlier, but also the genuine smile as she listened to Warrick expound on the glories of the newest personal trainer he’d hired on at Grit.
The conversation stopped after Warrick ended his story and everyone ate Wyatt’s ridiculously good food. Some of the sounds Calla made seemed like they should be kept between husband and wife, and we all laughed when Warrick said as much.
Mom shifted as though restless and passed one of the sides to Sarah while saying, “Well, Sarah, what do you have to say for yourself?”
Mom’s question split through the lingering chuckles and sent my pulse racing. What was that? What kind of response could she possibly expect to such a random question?
Sarah’s mouth opened, then closed, and her wide eyes told me she had the same reaction. Was my mom really doing this now—confronting her about—
“I was going to say, ‘What excellent boiled potatoes…’” She nodded to the bowl in front of her.
Mom burst out laughing, a full-on Jane Saint Cackle, TM. “You are my absolute favorite,” she said, reaching past me to squeeze Sarah’s hand.
Sarah grinned, and everyone else smiled at the exchange. I had no idea what any of that meant, but I’d clearly missed that Mom had set up that response. Why? I had no idea.
“It’s fromPride and Prejudice, right? Mr. Collins?” Sadie asked, giggling in a way I wouldn’t have anticipated was possible.
Mom wiped her mouth primly, as though she hadn’t been laughing like a crazy person at a quote that came out of nowhere. “It is. 2005 version of the movie. Utter perfection, and your timing was just…” She did a chef’s kiss.
Who was this woman, and how was she joking with Sarah like this? I’d assumed Sarah was nervous about my mom, but she seemed comfortable with her. She seemed comfortable with everyone. Maybe it was simply the knowledge we were moving ahead—that by stepping in here together, it meant something huge. Just like I’d felt when I’d asked her.
Whatever it meant, I could only feel satisfaction as the conversation swirled around me, my brothers, their partners, my mother, and my love entwined in a moment so full of goodness, it was almost unbearable.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-NINE
Sarah
The men scrubbed dishes and chatted in the kitchen after dinner while “the girls,” as Jane called us, sat in the living room and talked like we had for a few minutes prior to the meal.
Jane had sent me winks and smiles all evening, especially after my boiled potatoes comment. But the way she settled into the couch next to me and took my hand while Sadie and Calla laughed about something I didn’t catch told me this was something else. Something I maybe should’ve braced for.
