Page 4 of It Couldn't Be You
“Emma,” Tanya said, her pregnant stomach bumping into me before her arms could reach me. “Hey, you.”
“Hey, Tanya, you’re due…”
“January. Hence the size.” She patted her belly.
Tanya was the closest thing I had to an older sister. She was in her thirties and pregnant with her third child. I’d been close enough through each pregnancy that I felt as if I knew all the pregnancy and childbirth secrets by now.
I could hear her other two children squealing and bouncing around in the living room off the kitchen. Linda always had a billion toys she pulled out when her grandkids’ visited.
Luis is the second oldest—I think he was about thirty now—and had a couple of kids with his wife, Sarah, too. They were loudly playing in the living room. I knew each of them and their little voices. Luis asked someone if they wanted another beer.
Gabriel was the third oldest. He was twenty-six. Katie, my best friend since childhood, was twenty-five. And then there were the two rascally younger brothers, Victor, who was twenty-three, and Ricky, who was twenty-one. The two we were always worrying about. Not for any particular reason except we were the older ones with a hard-to-break habit of looking after the younger ones.
Wine splashing into glasses, bags of chips being poured into bowls, all while Christmas standards sang over the speakers.
As I walked into the house, it would be easy to be impressed by the light oaky hardwood floors that matched the farm-style home and rustic furnishings that looked straight out of a Pinterest board, but what I loved were the shoes all across the floor, the jackets thrown on couches, and the toys and toddlers underfoot. I felt instantly at home.
My shoulders relaxed as Katie spotted me and called me to her side. She stood in the corner of the kitchen beside the sink and the fridge, where the work was done, her raven hair loose around her shoulders, her skin the same caramel tone as Gabriel. I almost grabbed Gabriel’s hand without thinking to pull him along with me.
“Okay, do you see the two of them over there?” she said, ignoring formalities, not-so-discreetly pointing to the wide kitchen island, where most of the food was laid out. Everyone stood around it or sat on one of the four barstools, talking and snacking.
Ricky was sitting on a barstool, and a tall, wispy girl was standing with her arms wrapped around his waist. I presumed said girl was the new girlfriend. I watched how she shyly buried her head into his arms like he was a little zone of comfort. I remembered doing the exact same thing when I first met Jordan’s family. I felt instant empathy.
She was laughing a lot, nodding along to some story Luis and his wife were telling her. I noticed Ricky flailing his arms about in an attempt to defend himself, so it must’ve been a story about him.
“What’s her name?” I asked Katie.
“Maggie,” she said.
“I like her.” I said, as Maggie’s eyes met mine and she offered a kind smile.
“What? You haven’t even met her yet,” Katie said, laughing dismissively.
“First impression is that she’s kind, likes him enough to be nervous, and is a quick laugh. I always like people who are quick to laugh.”
“The laughter could definitely be fake to make us like her,” Katie said. Now, I laughed.
Katie saw Gabriel still standing near the entryway where I left him. She waved him over.
“We’ll see. I think Ricky works well with someone who laughs easy, someone a little humble,” I mused.
I could feel Gabriel arrive beside me. I could’ve sworn I felt his breath on my neck, but he wasn’t close enough for that.
“What are you two up to?” he asked.
“We’re talking about Maggie. What do you think of her?” Katie whispered. But before I could hear his answer, Mama Linda spotted me.
“Emma, come get some wine,” Linda called out.
I gave Katie a quick goodbye-for-now arm squeeze before weaving through the family festivities. Linda was digging through the antique wine cabinet that was caddy corner to the sliding glass doors facing out to the backyard.
I rested my head on her shoulder for a second, feeling instant comfort. “Hey there,” I greeted her, remembering being thirteen years old as she supplied me tampons, Midol, and Reese’s peanut butter cups when I started my period at her house. Like I said, instant comfort.
“How’re you doing, sweetie?” She slid her arm around me and pulled me close.
“Good,” I said. “What do we have here?” I eyed the wine collection.
“Well, let’s see. We have a rosé, a moscato Tanya brought, of course, a cheap red blend, a cab, merlot, a pinot, a riesling, and of course, the boys brought some beer.” She waved over toward the kitchen, where I was assuming the beer could be found.
