Even with my mother gone, I’ve never felt a lack of family time. Dad and Wayne have always been my anchors, and now Gina and the kids as well. There’s also my dad’s younger sister Carmen, her husband Phillip, and my cousin Diana who come around fairly often. I know Celeste grew up in the foster care system and is close toTania, but did any of her foster parents take good care of her? Did they show her love? Was she ever abused? I shudder at the thought, and Celeste notices, looking at me questioningly. I give her a reassuring smile and bump her shoulder.
“So how long have you two been seeing each other?” Gina asks with a delighted grin as her eyes dart between us. We’ve come prepared to tell a little of our back story, texting back and forth over the past couple of days. Coming as close to the truth as possible is the game plan so that things don’t get confused.
“It’s been a casual thing for almost two months now, but we’ve become very serious recently,” I say, which is semi-true. It has been almost two months now since she first walked into the bar and made me trip over myself. To drive the point home, I wrap an arm around her and look at her adoringly. It’s not exactly a hardship with her sun-kissed freckles, shiny hair, and bright smile beaming back at me. We’re naturals at faking this relationship, I can’t help but think smugly.
“Are you going to become our Auntie, Celeste?” Ava’s question has Gina, Celeste, and me almost choking.
“Baby, I always appreciate you asking questions, but it’s a little soon to ask that, ok? Celeste has barely had time to breathe here, let alone think about becoming your Auntie. That means getting married like me and dad are. It’s a big deal,” Gina gently explains to her with a kiss to the top of her head.
“Fine,” Ava huffs. “I’m sorry if I was too nosy, Celeste,” she goes on, looking at the woman next to me with big, worried eyes.
“No worries, angel. Who knows what’ll happen, right?” We exchange a look, because this is the perfect opening.Having dinner with everyone tonight gives us the opportunity to lay the foundation of us getting married soon.
“We have actually talked about getting married soon,” I say casually. “We want something super simple in a couple of weeks, just a few people at the courthouse. Then maybe down the road, we’ll have a big party to properly celebrate. You all know I’m not big into weddings, and neither is Celeste.”
It’s that record scratching moment when everything freezes. Then my family all starts to talk over each other at once. Braden makes a face and says girls are gross, making his sister glare at him.
“Girls are not gross, Braden,” she says with the fiercest scowl that sweet girl is capable of. Gina is clapping with her huge smile and saying congratulations. Wayne’s flabbers are gasted, looking at me with a mix of shock and careful happiness as he releases a drawn out, “wow,” before corralling the kids so they don’t start brawling.
Meanwhile, my dad is looking between us with an appraising, shrewd gaze while he murmurs how great it is that we’re getting that serious. It’s the same look I’ve seen hundreds of times when he’s assessing whether something new is going to be good for the bar. He doesn’t say a word that this conveniently comes on the heels of his requirement, but I am far from believing that he’s not at all suspicious.
We’ll cross that bridge if or when we need to, and I focus on Celeste. My hand moves from around her shoulders to idly play with her ponytail. The silky strands cascade through my fingers like a waterfall, and I’m momentarily transfixed. I’m watching her closely enough, wanting to make sure what I’m doing is ok, that I notice her breathhitch, but her smile never wavers. She leans in a little closer to me, patting my thigh.
“It might be fast, but Gage has made me so happy in such a short amount of time,” Celeste says to the group at large. Oh, she’s good. She’s really good. I’m a little sold, and I know she’s acting. Both Gina and Ava are now sporting twin heart eyes, Wayne is smiling, and even my dad’s face goes completely soft at her declaration. Braden still looks disgusted, but what can I expect of a seven year old.
“I’m happy for you both,” my dad says genuinely.
“Thanks, Dad,” I say earnestly. “We’ll keep you all posted on when the wedding will be and all of the details.” Everyone murmurs their assent and we keep on eating. My family has learned to roll with the punches over the years, I knew sharing a big life event like this would go over without any drama or big fuss. I reach down and squeeze Celeste’s hand that’s still on my thigh and shoot her a reassuring, thankful smile. She squeezes back, and my heart imitates it with a pinch of its own in my chest. We already feel like partners in this, and it’s effortless. I just hope I can get her on my insurance quickly and hold up my end of the bargain.
After dessert, my dad sits and relaxes with the kids watching cartoons while us adults quickly clean up. It’s not long before we take forever to say goodbye, do three rounds of hugs, and promise to have family dinner again as soon as possible. Gina and Celeste exchange numbers so that they can text.
“I’m in charge of coordinating the next girls night with Lyra, Tania, and Carlo’s sisters. We go and tear up the 80’s club a little north of here, full colorful 80’s regalia is required. The drinks are in ginormous fish bowls. You have to come with us, I’m going to send out potential dates soon,” Gina says excitedly. Celeste looks bemused and happy.
“That sounds fun, count me in,” she says a little shyly.
When we get into the car, she’s quiet and subdued again. Her chin is set in that stubborn way, sunglasses sitting on her head since it’s just after 8:30 with the sun already switched out for a sliver of moonlight, her jaw tense, eyes faraway while she’s clearly deep in thought. After a few minutes of driving I can’t take the silence anymore.
“I thought that went really well, they all loved you,” I tell her.
“They were all so nice and welcoming, the kids are adorable,” she says softly, eyes out the window.
“You weren’t overwhelmed? They can be a lot, especially my beloved hurricane Gina,” I say lightly, trying to coax her back to her normal self. She finally turns away from the window to look at me.
“Nah, your family is great. It’s just not something I’ve ever experienced before. I remember Tania talking about what it felt like to go to family dinner at Carlo’s parents’ house for the first time, and what a weird, new experience it was. Now it’s my turn, I guess,” she says.
“None of your foster families had big family dinners? What were they like?” Fuck, the questions come out way more bluntly than they should have considering I’m sure it’s a delicate subject. My curiosity about her seems to always override my good sense. She lets out a sardonic laugh.
“Trust when I say you don’t want to hear about the foster families I grew up in, except maybe the last one before I aged out.”
“I won’t badger you to talk about it, but if you want to, I really do want to hear about it. I’d like to know you, Celeste.” The quiet is a living thing between us, and I don’t think she’s going to say anything. Surprise shoots through me when I hear her start to talk.
“Well, let’s see. In my first three families, I was always separate from the bio kids. Two out of those three families basically threw me scraps of whatever they had leftover like I was a dog. The third didn’t feed me at all, I had to steal food from the counter and run back to my room or wherever before they could see me. The next few homes fed me well enough, but I never stayed at the table because I’d be too close to wandering male hands or screaming foster parents. When I finally got to the home where I met Tania when I was twelve, their bio son hated us both so much that he tried to beat the crap out of us. I took the brunt of it and fought him back, and we were removed from that home quickly and together, thank fuck. In our last home Jack and Bev were not so bad, but there were never big family dinners at the table. It was just the four of us in front of the TV usually, without much conversation.”
My hands are white knuckled on the wheel with anger and grief for her, my molars just might break from clenching my jaw so hard, and she notices.
“Sorry, you asked and ended up getting a trauma dump. I shouldn’t have said anything, you have this bizarre way of getting me to talk about stuff I hate talking about,” she mumbles self-consciously.
“Don’t you dare feel sorry for sharing that with me, I’m glad you did. Honored, actually. I just hate that you went through all of that, and I’m sure it’s just the tip of the iceberg,” I tell her, automatically reaching for her hand across the console and running my thumb across her knuckles to comfort her.
