“I am the unofficial enforcer—”
Rowan says, “Stan. Eat your food.”
Percy turns to Lucy and says something in French. She covers her mouth and laughs. I look at Percy, and he’s giving me ayou’re welcomeface.
Stanley turns back to his plate, dropping the conversation.
I look at Lucy. She’s covering her mouth and laughing. Her shoulders are doing the small shake they do when she is trying not to laugh out loud. Her face is pink.
I look at Blue. I look at Rowan. I look at Percy. None of them are looking at me. Blue and Rowan have, in two short lines each, are on my side.
Lucy has been quiet for most of the last twenty minutes — listening, laughing, taking it in — and the room falls silent when she opens her mouth to say something.
“Rowan,” she asks. Rowan looks up. “How did you learn to cook?”
The room goes quiet like it always does when Rowan talks about his grandmother. He tells Lucy that his grandmother lived in the apartment over their garage when he was small and how her apartment smelled like bay leaves and onions year-round. She started teaching him when he was six because she could not stand watching his mother burn meat. He mentions that she was a good woman, and he honors her through food.
Nobody interrupts, makes a joke, or a comment.
When he’s done, Lucy is watching him carefully. “That’s amazing, Rowan. This is the best chicken I’ve ever had.”
The room is, for one full beat, quiet.
Rowan, pleased in the way he is always pleased when someone compliments his cooking, looks at her across the table. “Thanks, Lucy. You are welcome at this table any time.”
Stanley says with his mouth full, “Reeve. Did you hear that?”
“I heard it.” I chuckle.
“Lucy, you have to come back tomorrow night for dinner. It’ll be the last at this table until Sunday,” Rowan says.
I look over at Lucy and grin. Looks like I’m not the only one handing out dinner invitations.
She looks at Rowan with a smile. “Really?”
He nods.
“Okay, yeah,” she says looking at me. I grab her hand under the table.
When we’re done eating, we clean up. Stanley loads the dishwasher because that is Stanley’s job in this house even though he resents it. Blue washes the pots and pans in the sink. Percy puts the leftovers in containers. Lucy and I clear the table and wipe it down.
She brushes past me at the kitchen island twice. The second time she does it she puts her hand on my back for a beat. By the time the kitchen is mostly clean, I lean over to Lucy and whisper, “Go upstairs and take a shower, babe. I’ll be up in a second.”
“Are you sure?” she asks.
I nod. “Take all the hot water.”
She smiles. “You’re so bad.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” I say back, and then kiss her lips. She walks up the stairs.
I stay at the island and clear my throat once Lucy’s out of sight. “Guys,” I whisper.
The kitchen doesn’t stop.
“Guys.”
Stanley looks up.
