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“Good!” Mal chirps brightly, pulling my wayward mind back to her. “In that case, let’s go. Mama has already sent me a list of things she needs from the store.”
I grab my purse, keys, and phone and follow Mal out of the door. “Didn’t you just take her to the store yesterday?”
Mal throws her hands up in exasperation as she unlocks her car. I laugh, knowing from the one small gesture that Annette has been riding her daughter’s nerves since early this morning. Once upon a time, those calls would’ve been coming to Eric’s phone. Waking us up at the crack of dawn with reminders to stop by the store and pick up milk, eggs, flour, or another ingredient she needed to make dinner that day. Now, those calls go straight to Mal, and Mama doesn’t care if her daughter is asleep, hungover, or snoring in the arms of a naked stranger: she still calls.
Mal backs out my driveway. “How was the ride home last night?”
“You tell me. I slept through the whole thing.”
She purses her lips. “I didn’t want to leave you, especially when you were asleep, but Nic insisted on dropping me off at my place first. Did you freak out on him when you woke up?”
Unbidden, thoughts of Dominic’s gentle touch and warm breath caressing my skin as he nudged me awake pop into my mind. Freaking out on him was the last thing on my mind, and judging by the contents of my dream last night….I shake my head, trying to set the thought free. Thinking about my inappropriate dreams next to Mal feels wrong.
“Nope. You should be proud of me. I was nice to him.”
“Nice?” Mal hums her approval. “I wasn’t aware you knew how to be anything other than bitchy where Nic is concerned.”
“Let’s not make him sound like a victim, Mallory. Even though you and Mama love to make him out to be some sort of angel, he deserves every shot I take at him.”
She scrunches her nose at me. “No one has ever called him an angel. Honestly, both of you get on my nerves with the constant bickering. It was nice to see the two of you getting along even if some drunk in the club was the reason.”
The ill-advised hope that shined in her eyes last night is back, coating her words and making her sound like a small kid hoping her parents will finally stop fighting and say they love each other again.
I bite my lip. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. Don’t get used to it though.”
Mal laughs. “Oh, honey. I wouldn’t dream of it.”
* * *
Two hours and three stores later, Mal and I are carrying last-minute essentials into Mama’s kitchen with no help from any of the ten other people scattered throughout the yard and house waiting to scarf down the fruits of our labor. We find Mama in the kitchen chatting with her sister, Mary, while they clean collards and chop peaches for what I’m sure is going to be a delicious cobbler.
“About damn time!” Mama shouts, wrapping us in hugs that make us forget how annoyed we were with her just moments before. “I thought I was going to have to send Nic out to find you two.”
“Cut the dramatics, Annette.” Mal laughs, slinging the bags in her hand on the counter and heading towards the table to take a seat by her aunt.
Mama pops her on the butt as she walks away and starts unpacking bags by my side. We work together to put up everything she claimed she needed to make her meal today, and I shoot her a disbelieving look when everything but one bottle of barbecue sauce ends up in her cupboards.
“Thought you needed all of this stuff for dinner.”
She winks at me. “I did. Just not for dinner today.”
I shake my head at her, stifling the laughter that’s always ready to spill out when I’m around my mother-in-law. She’s so different from the woman who birthed me. Where my mom treats parenting like a hardship meant to be endured, Mama has always made it quite clear that being a mother is one of the great joys in her life.
Anytime her children are around, she glows with love. I can’t remember a single time I’ve seen her look anything less than thrilled to have her children, me and Dominic included, around. Hence the reason she’s always hosting dinners at her home or calling each of us throughout the week just to check-in.
“Mal’s going to be so mad when she realizes you only needed that bottle of barbecue sauce.” I bump her with my shoulder, returning her warm smile with one of my own. “We had to go to three stores to find your White Lily flour. She wanted to give up, but I told her I wasn’t coming in here without it.”
“Good girl.” She beams at me, and the corners around her rich brown eyes crease in the best way.
For a moment, I just stare at her, taking in the soft lines of her face, and the black and gray whirls of curls that are pulled into a fluffy bun at the top of her head. My heart swells with love for her. For the way she looks at me. For the easy smiles and not-so-secret jokes. For the warmth of her arms and the strength of her love. A love that saved me from the depths of my grief even when her own must have been threatening to crush her.
“Sloane, baby,” Mary calls, beckoning me over to the table with a wave of her hand. “Come on over here and help Mallory cut up these greens.”
Before I can answer, she gets up from the table and gestures to her vacated seat. Mama shakes her head, muttering something about lazy sisters as she moves to the stove. I know better than to argue with any of the elders in this family, so I take a seat beside Mal and start cutting up greens. We fall into a comfortable silence as we each work on our tasks. Nothing but the sounds of pots simmering, spoons stirring, and knives chopping fill the small kitchen that’s seen more than its fair share of family gatherings.
As I chop, my mind wanders and thoughts of Eric are at the forefront, the way they always are when I’m in his childhood home, basking in the love of the people who raised him. People who rallied around me and kept me close in the face of their own heartbreak and despair. I’m endlessly thankful for each of them and the way I’ve always been treated like someone who belongs by everyone lucky enough to be born into a family full of love and acceptance.
Except for Dominic.
