There’s another ripple of laughter, and everyone takes a sip as I sit, satisfied I did my job. No one signed me up to be the court jester of our family, but it’s the role that comes most naturally to me. I’m not the responsible one—that’s Rob. I’m not the smart one—that’s Noah. I’m not the sporty one—that’s Michael. I learned at a young age making people laugh was the only way to stand out among my brothers. Unfortunately, it garners no respect from my father.
Everyone but my parents gives me a nod of approval or thumbs-up for my speech.
My mom doesn’t mind my humor. My dad merely tolerates it. Generally speaking, he seems to merely tolerate me and doesn’t hide his preference for my brothers. He sits at the head of the table, Rob on his right, Michael to his left. In my dad’s eyes, my brothers have all earned their right to be celebrated. They bring honor to the Baldwin name.
I’m hoping the scholarship will be enough for me to do the same in Robert Baldwin Senior’s eyes.
Our salad plates cleared, small plates are placed in front of us, and much larger plates packed with appetizers are set on the table: small slides of toasted bruchetta piled high with cherry tomatoes, caprese salad with bright red tomatoes and fluffy mozzarella chunks, rich brown and green olives marinating in a decadent olive oil, and mini mushrooms stuffed and topped with golden breadcrumbs. It’s a feast before the actual feast, and we all fill our small plates.
“Now, how did you meet again?” My mom leans forward, engaging Charlotte in conversation. Charlotte is Noah’s girlfriend. Apparently, they’ve been dating for months, and in typical Noah fashion, he didn’t tell us until about a week ago when we found out he’d be bringing his girlfriend to dinner. She’s sitting across from me tonight—a distinct pleasure, because not only is she beautiful, but she’s also absolutely brilliant.
She reminds me a little of Jessie.
Someone I am trying desperately not to think about.
“Noah and I are coworkers,” Charlotte says with a sweet smile. She has bright hair so blonde it’s practically white. It goes down to her waist and it’s stick-straight. She has on a very classy gray dress, fitting in well at the table with the other partners.
Rob’s wife Lori is a lawyer and a partner at her firm, and she dresses the part. She always looks like she just stepped off the set of the TV showSuits. Amelia freelances as a writer and editor for several highly regarded travel magazines. She grew from a travel blogger to an expert in the industry. She dresses as well as Lori, but less lawyer-chic, more “traveling first class to Paris”-chic.
Somehow, all my brothers snagged gorgeous, smart women despite being absolute Neanderthals. I hope to do the same one day.
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” my mom says. “How many women work at NASA?”
“Not enough,” Noah says. “But the prettiest one is sitting right here.”
Charlotte looks at Noah then, and the adoration in her eyes is enough to make me look away.
Has anyone ever looked at me like that?
I consider the girlfriends I’ve had, all casual, short-term relationships that didn’t make it past two months. Except one girl I dated my freshman year of college. We were together for eight months, and we even said we loved each other, but looking at the way Charlotte and Noah look at each other, I don’t think what Melissa and I felt was love. It was puppy love at best. Just two people who preferred to be together rather than alone, but my soccer schedule was too much for her. In the end she wanted to date someone with more time in their schedule. I couldn’t fault her for that, but it still hurt. I’ve kept most of my relationships casual since then. It’s easier for everyone.
Our appetizer plates are cleared, replaced with dinner plates. The picked-over serving plates are cleared too, and large bowls of noodles and sauce take their spot on the table. At the other end of the table, house-made spaghetti noodles drown in a hearty, rich red sauce. Near my end of the table, a bowl of thick, flat noodles covered in a creamy Alfredo steams in front of me, the garlic and rich cream sauce making my mouth water.
We all fill our plates, passing around the bowls. Wine glasses are topped off, bread baskets are emptied onto our plates, and the waiters disappear again.
“So, Mac, what’s the update? How’s your dating life? Anyone special?” Noah asks before taking a huge bite of bread.
Jessie’s face flashes in my mind. Her delicate snow-white skin, her long dark hair, her gray eyes piercing me with that annoyed look she gets on her face right before she cracks a smile.
“No, I’m not dating anyone,” I say, but a smile fights its way onto my face. I try to control it, but I don’t think it works.
“Come on—there isn’t anyone?”
“Well…”
“I knew it,” Noah says with a grin.
“Knew what? You didn’t even know what I was going to say.”
“Spill.” Noah claps and rubs his hands together like I’ve got a good story.
“I mean, there isn’t much to spill. There’s this girl that I’ve kind of had a crush on for a while, just from a distance, you know. And we…” I glance at my mom, who actually seems interested in my story. I mentally apologize. “We made out at a party on Halloween, and it was great. There was a ton of chemistry.”
“Ooh, are you talking about a girl?” Amelia asks, leaning our way.
I eat a forkful of spaghetti and nod, remembering why we like this place so much. The tomato sauce tastes so fresh it’s like someone hand-squeezed it earlier today. The seasonings are perfectly balanced, and the chewy noodles make you forget you’re in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and not in a small Italian village eating at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant.
“So, what happened?” Charlotte asks.
