Page 79 of Fast Currents
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Lucy wandered into the kitchen Thanksgiving morning, sliding her chin onto my shoulder and hugging me from behind as I sauteed leeks for the stuffing.
“That smells amazing. I think we’re going to have food for an army. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Not bring up boxed mac and cheese?”
She snorted. “Whatever you say, Clayton Carlton.”
I reached back, pinching her gently below her ribcage. “Just remember, we’re telling them today, then calling your family.”
“Don’t remind me.”
I flicked off the burner, pivoting to face her. Lucy stood barefoot, pink-painted nails sticking out from beneath the frayed hem of her jeans. She’d chosen a soft blue sweater that made the golden flecks in her brown eyes pop. Her pink mouth hovered somewhere between dismay and worry.
I tilted her chin. “Hey. I love you. It’s going to be fine.”
“Says the man who gets to meet his in-laws via video chat, where there’s a mute button.”
I held up my palm. “I solemnly swear that we’ll go meet them in person at Christmas so they can vet my intentions and roast me properly.” I gathered her close. “Relax, Luce. I am confident my folks will love you. Maybe not as much as I do, because that simply isn’t possible, but they’ll get on board.”
She snuggled beneath my chin, her cheek across my heart. I held her, savoring her warm weight in my arms. I could stand like this forever. Let the whole kitchen burn down around me.
“Do you want to hang out with me here? Help me cook?” I asked.
Lucy leaned back, examining my expression. “You really do love me.”
“That’s what I’ve been telling you.”
“Yeah, but I know how important today is. And you know what a disaster I am in the kitchen.”
I chuckled. “I’d eat burnt toast and peanut butter and jelly today if it’d make you happy.”
My mom walked in on the tail end of my claim. Her eyes widened, expression blanching. “Oh my god, you’re getting married.” She turned, calling to my dad. “Carl, get in here. Clay has something to tell us.”
My dad shuffled in, coffee mug in hand. “What’s going on?”
Mom crossed her arms over her chest, staring me down, her expression enigmatic.
I’d had a whole plan. Easing them into the idea with food and the liberal application of wine. Not getting caught flat-footed in the kitchen. I tucked Lucy under my arm, taking strength from her stout presence beside me. My fiancée wasn’t a fading flower, and I’d been making my own life decisions for years. I didn’t need my parents’ approval, but I wanted them to welcome Lucyinto our family with at least a fraction of the excitement I had for our future. She deserved that.
“I knew I wanted to marry Lucy the moment I met her.” I glanced down at her fondly. “She took some convincing, but I chased her until she caught me.”
My mom squinted. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“It means that I proposed, and Clay said yes.”
My dad’s face broke out in a pleased grin. “Congratulations to both of you.”
My mom glowered. Not at Lucy. Atme. I rubbed my chest as if that would stop her disapproving laser beams from penetrating my chest and turning me to dust.
“Clayton Carlton Robertson, I thought I raised you better.”
“You raised me perfectly.”
My mom and Lucy snorted in tandem. I held back a grin. Disapproval shadowed my mom’s features. Only the underlying hint of humor kept me from second-guessing the way I’d blurted out the news. I’d had a plan. She’d ruined it.
She sighed, the heavy gust filling the room. She turned to Lucy. “I’m sorry, dear, you deserved better.”
