Anna flashes him a coy smile. “Heard what?”
“Well, the diaper doesn’t matter. Because the kids' pizza just finished cooking. Boys, are you ready to eat?” My mom opens the oven, pulls out a half pepperoni and half cheese pizza, and slides it onto a hot pad.
Jack and Peter scoot onto stools, banging their fists on the table, chanting, “Pizza! Pizza!”but nobody seems to notice or care.
“I like your hats,” I say to my nephews. “How come you didn’t bring me one?”
Peter scrunches his nose. “Your head is too big.”
“You’re a girl. Girls don’t get a turkey hat.” Jack leans over his younger brother so he can see me when he talks.
“That’s unfair.” My brows drop.
“Girls get pilgrim hats,” Jack explains.
“I don’t need a pilgrim hat.” I brush my hair aside. “I already have pilgrim earrings.”
“Jeff,” my mom calls over the noise, “will you open the back door and tell Erin the food is ready?”
“Yep.” He shuffles to the other side of the kitchen where the door is.
Anna reaches across me, placing two plates of pizza in front of Jack and Peter. “Where’s Justin?”
“He’s coming from work. He’ll be here any minute.” The front door opens again. “Maybe that’s him,” I say, knowing full well it is definitelynotJustin, but I have to sell this lie if I want the car-accident excuse to actually work.
“We’re here!” Juliet calls from the entryway.
“I guess it’s not Justin.” Anna’s blue eyes skid to me. “Besides, he wouldn’t feel comfortable just walking in the house, would he?”
“No.” My shoulders drop a little. “He wouldn’t.”
“Sorry I’m late.” Juliet gives my dad a side hug as she enters the kitchen.
“You’re right on time.”
I do a clock check, and my stomach pulls into a knot—6:32 p.m. Ten more minutes until the fake fender-bender call, and those ten minutes will go fast.
Pandemonium takes over the room as Erin’s family comes in from outside. Cora and Berkley whine because they’re cold. Juliet’s six-month-old cries as she takes her out of her car seat and sits her in one of my mom’s two highchairs. Jeff puts Lucy in the other highchair, and while all of that is going on, Hailey and her husband, Brian, and their twin seven-year-old boys show up, making the kitchen feel more crowded than a Pillsbury dough can.
Everything is loud and chaotic with my family, and I love it.
Like,loveit.
I love how there are seven different conversations happening at once, how everyone talks over each other, how babies cry in the background, and how my nephews spill their drinks. How nobody can get around the kitchen island without their body parts skimming someone else's like you’re trying to get out of your row at a movie theater. How the countertop is full of food, and the sink is topped with dishes. How my Aunt Carma swears over her card game and my mom warns her to behave in front of the kids. And I love that we all think it’s normal. It’s just how my family is.
My dad nudges Rick aside so he can open the oven and take out another pizza. “When Summer gets married and starts having kids, we’re going to have to knock out a wall and make this kitchen bigger, or else we all won’t fit.”
My dad’s a sweetheart and has absolutely no idea that his well-meaning comment cuts me to the core. Marriage and kids are at the top of my to-do list—thetip-top.In seventh grade, in the college and career class, I wrote down that I wanted to be a wife and mom when I grew up. My teacher made me change it and choose an actual career path. As a side note, I did not choose an overworked property manager. I think I chose a school teacher because that would still be a good option for a mom because you have summers off.
The point is, I haven’t crossed off thestart my own familygoal at the top of my to-do list. And it’s fine. I’m young. There’s still plenty of time to make all that happen. I know all of that. I repeat it to myself whenever I feel bummed about my current life situation, or feel jealous of my sisters, or when I’m frustrated about how slow things are moving between me and Justin. So I smile back at my dad and repeat it one more time.I’m young. There’s still plenty of time to make all that happen.
“Speaking of Summer getting married”—Hailey looks around—“is Justin here?”
“He’s on his way,” my mother answers, but not in an informative kind of way. No, her tone is all skepticism and mistrust—and for good reason.
I glance behind her at the oven clock. 6:41 p.m. Close enough.
“Actually, this is him calling.” I quickly hold my phone up to my ear so that nobody can see the screen and call my bluff on my fake phone call. “Hey, babe!” My words are loud and cheery as I exit the room. Even though I’m technically out of earshot of the kitchen, I keep the charade going as I pace the living room. “Are you serious? Oh my gosh! Are you okay?” I have the shock, the panic, and the worry down to a T as I pause and wait like I’m listening to Justin talk. “No, don’t worry about it. There’s nothing you can do.” From the corner of my eye, I see my mom leaning against the wall between the kitchen and the living room. There’s a disapproving, pinched expression hovering over her brows as her suspicions about Justin’s attendance come to fruition. Now, my only goal is to soften her harsh judgment. “No, I’m just glad you’re okay. That’s the most important thing right now. I mean, you could’ve been killed if you weren’t watching.” I play thekilledcard to gain more sympathy. “Or seriously injured. It’s amazing you’re walking away without a scratch.” I nod a few times, then end strong. “No, I know how much you wanted to come. You’ll get to stuff the turkey next year.” I pause, then push my lips into a frown. “Aww, don’t have FOMO. We’ll take lots of pictures. Okay. Sounds good. Bye.”
