Page 23 of Boyfriend Material
“Yeah, you’re right.” Geo nodded. “Let’s catch up to him before he blows a gasket. I think you’re good for my sister. She seems different this visit—happier.”
Theo liked the sound of that. He sure hoped he was the reason. Maybe he’d won over one sibling, but there was a lot of weekend still to get through.
When they got upstairs, George was opening a bottle of wine. He had three glasses set out and another couple of bottles pulled to the side.
“Looks like Dad is gonna give you a personalized tasting,” Geo said when he noticed the wine bottles.
“Sounds good, as long as we’re sober enough to drive back,” Theo said.
“Of course. We taste wine all the time. It’s different from just drinking it. Didn’t you do tastings when you were in Italy?”
“Yeah, I did. But I didn’t know if this would be different.”
“Nope, exactly like that. See, he even put the bucket up for you to spit instead of swallow.”
Theo’s inner twelve-year-old boy almost escaped, but he kept his comment about spitting to himself, and chuckled.
George set out a variety of their wines—a sweet white that reminded Theo of a Riesling, a rosé that was like a Moscato, and a red. Of the three, it was his favorite—the hint of peach from their namesake made it unique.
“Thank you. I enjoyed this more than I expected,” Theo said, as they headed back to the SUV.
“At least someone appreciates our hard work. Maybe you can try to reason with Olivia.”
“Livie appreciates it. She just doesn’t have it in her blood like you do. You need to appreciate her for who she is. Livie is still your daughter, and you need to respect her choices. I don’t want to be rude, but I couldn’t believe how you treated her this morning. Like she’s a redheaded stepchild.”
Geo snorted. “Sorry, but she is a redhead. There’s no doubt she came from my mom. Damn, she was a loud baby, too.Screamed with colic for the first six weeks. Mom gave me and Betsy ear plugs so we could sleep.”
Theo rolled his eyes. He wasn’t sure he could get through to this family. Maybe it would never happen. Instead, he’d make sure Livie was happy with the rest of her life. She didn’t need them if they wouldn’t support her. They should be proud, instead of giving her nonstop grief.
Theo took the backseat for the ride back to the house. He didn’t want to have to interact with them. Although he hoped he might have opened Geo’s eyes about his sister. Time would tell, and he hoped for Livie’s sake that dinner was more peaceful than breakfast.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Livie
Livie had the best memories of preparing holiday meals when she was young. Their housekeeper, Melissa, used to help back then. Now, it was her least favorite time. Instead of enjoying all the preparations and delicious scents of the turkey roasting and the side dishes and pies baking, her mother complained nonstop. Sometimes, she’d grumble about Betsy and Geo, but usually it was about Livie’s poor life choices.
Her mother’s mumbling didn’t bode well for her. The fake boyfriend idea had seemed like a brilliant plan when Patience suggested it in jest. Too bad Theo didn’t change her parent’s attitude much at all.
“I’ll be right back. Let me get the girls set up in the living room with a video. John should be able to manage them after that,” Betsy said as she put the breakfast dishes in the sink.
It was just Livie and her mother now. Jean was getting the boys some games to play at the table while they worked on dinner. The tension was thicker than pea soup. It wouldn’t be long before her mom let loose on her.
“What’s first on the list, Mom? Do you want me to take care of the breakfast dishes?”
Her mom stood at the large kitchen island, making up containers of the leftovers to send home with Betsy and Geo. Her father hated anything reheated, so they rarely ate them if he was joining them. The nights he worked late, Melissa used to make up a smorgasbord for the three kids. They were some of Livie’s favorite memories.
“Go ahead and load the dishwasher. I’ll need the sink to rinse the turkey. We’re already running behind.”
Livie made her way through the large French country kitchen. It was one of her favorite rooms—white oak cabinets and decorated tile backsplashes, with light gray quartz countertops. The island was the same with an extra sink for prep. It was sad only Melissa used it.
Livie rolled up her sleeves and turned on the water. Usually, Betsy got this job, but with her tied up with the twins, at least Livie could avoid her mom’s griping for a little longer. A very little bit.
“Olivia, aren’t you finished yet?”
“Yup, just cleaning the sink. Want me to get the turkey and prep it for you?” Livie asked. It didn’t matter how much she tried to help; she’d never make her mother happy. She doubted even if she gave up med school and moved back home, it would change anything. When they were younger, she wasn’t like this. Livie wondered what caused the change.
“I’ll do the turkey. I don’t trust you to clean it properly. You can pull out the beans for the boys and wash those. Then start on the bread for the stuffing.”
