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“Girls…” Chase says, his tone firm but his eyes sparkling with mirth. “Let Bree eat first then ask if she wants to play with you.”
Both girls purse their lips into adorable, most likely practiced, pouts and say at the same time, “Yes, Daddy.”
Avery shoots Chase an exasperated look and I watch him smirk back at her.
Shaking her head, Avery mutters something about the girls only listening to him.
Chase tips his head back and laughs.
“Aubrey,” my mom says over Chase’s laughter to get my attention, “I’ve saved a plate for you.”
Tearing my eyes away from the couple, I make my way around the long, elegant dining table to take the seat beside her.
Plopping down on the cream-colored padded dining chair, I grab the metal lid that’s been placed over my plate to keep it warm and whip it off.
“She made your favorite,” Logan says with a touch of pride.
My throat starts to close up as I stare down at a plate of my mom’s homemade lasagna.
I must stare a little too long, though, because my mom asks tentatively, “Is it okay? I can make you something else if you would prefer—”
“No, mom. It’s great. It’s perfect,” I say quickly and force my lips into a smile as I look up at her. “Thank you. It’s exactly what I want.”
And didn’t know I need.
My mom’s shoulders relax and she smiles with relief. “You’re welcome, honey.”
Picking up my fork, I take a bite and have to swallow down a moan of joy.
It tastes like all my happy memories.
My mom’s lasagna is delicious, but it’s more than that. It’s something special she could only do on those rare days when she had the time. And it takes so long to prepare, she could rarely find the time.
But she always tried.
It takes every ounce of willpower I have inside me to keep myself from gobbling down the whole thing and licking the plate clean.
As I’m savoring my fourth bite, one of the twins suddenly plops down in the chair beside me and declares, “Grandma’s lasagna is better than Mommy’s.”
My mom gasps and I widen my eyes as I stare at the little girl smiling up at me.
“Emma Marie, that’s not very polite,” my mom chastises her, clearly upset that she’s being rude and perhaps afraid of offending Avery.
But what’s got me is that she called my mom Grandma.
Somehow that title completely slipped my mind.
“It’s true.” Avery laughs, seemingly not the least bit offended. “But Grandma is right, it’s rude, Emma, and you should be careful about what you say. You don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings.”
As the grownups try to explain to Emma what she did wrong, I finish my lasagna with the realization that my mom is now a grandma running through my mind.
I don’t know if I love it, hate it, or even care.
Unable to decide, I scrape up every last drop of sauce and push my plate away.
“So… Bree…” Avery smiles at me from across the table. “It’s been awhile. How have you been? How’s school going?”
I know Avery is only being nice and trying to make small talk, but with everything going on, her questions immediately put me on edge.
