“What’s up?”
“I have to stop getting high with you. I thought that tree was a bear for a minute.”
He cracked up. “You’re silly for that.” He stood and pulled me to my feet. “We should probably go inside before you try to talk to that pole over there.”
I hugged him, reveling in how safe I felt with his arms around me. “Maybe I should go to bed.”
“Nah,” he wrapped an arm around my neck as we walked into the house, “that’s not a good plan.”
Pausing mid-stride, I turned to him. “Why?”
“Because if I have to deal with Dallas, so do you.”
ChapterEight
IT WAS A GOOD DAY
Duke
“Uncle Duke, you have to smile!Andtalk.” Raven peered over the camera and motioned for me to say something. “The people want to hear your voice.”
“For you?” Paityn handed me the olive oil and plastered a smile on her face. “Is that good, Raven?” she asked between clenched teeth.
“You’re trying too hard, Sissy,” Blake said, from her spot at the kitchen table.
My family had decided to spend Christmas in Cali with Paityn and Bishop. It was my mother’s bright idea because she wanted to limit Paityn’s air travel due to the baby. I still wasn’t sure why it was harmful for Big Sis to travel this early in her pregnancy, but I didn’t question Ma.
Paityn and Bishop lived in Santa Monica, right on the beach. The five-bedroom home was perfect for both of them because they loved to host guests. For this trip, my parents rented an Airbnb a few blocks away. The ladies stayed with Paityn while me and my brothers stayed at the rental.
The days leading up to Christmas had always been jam-packed full of activities for the family. Ma liked to keep us busy. Today was Cookie Day, as we called it. When we were kids, all of us played a role in making sure we had several types of cookies for the holiday. As we grew into adulthood, Paityn and I led the charge while Ma barked orders from her chair.
The plan was to order pizza from one of Bishop’s favorite restaurants. However, Tyn had begged me to make my spicy honey garlic salmon bites—for the baby—so Raven suggested we film.
I’d taken Skye’s advice and hired my niece to manage my social media and my followers had already responded positively to the change. Right away, Raven had created a calendar to keep track of my content and brought in a few friends to help with vlog production. It was a win-win for all of us because they needed the experience, and I needed the help.
Ma breezed into the kitchen looking well-rested after a trip to the spa, probably on our dime. We’d been funding her beauty appointments since she brought in the Cussing Jar, and Thanksgiving had been a particularly raunchy day for us.
“Hey, babe.” She kissed my cheek, then moved on to greet my sisters and Raven. “What’s going on?” She took a seat next to Blake.
While Raven gave my mother a brief rundown, I argued with Paityn about the apron she’d given me to wear. I balled up the fabric and passed it to her. “I’m not wearing this.”
Tyn pushed it back to me. “Duke, I don’t see a problem with the apron. It’ll work for today.”
“It’s bright yellow and says ‘Queen Bee’ on the front.”
My sister shrugged. “Put it on backwards, duh.” She attempted to tie the thing around my waist, but I spun away from her. “Duke, you’re trippin’.”
I held my hands up. “I don’t need it. Let’s get this show on the road.”
It took a few minutes for Raven to get the camera ready again, but when she yelled “Go” I started with a quick overview of the recipe. Off to the side, Blake and Ma watched with interest as I did my introduction.
“What’s up? I’m in the kitchen with Big Sis today, teaching her to make one of my favorite recipes.” I glanced at her. “And judging by the way she’s holding that knife like she wants to stab me, she’ll need a lot of help.”
“Boy, I know you lyin’.” Tyn shoved me playfully with her free hand, and I cracked up. “I taughtyouhow to hold a knife.”
I pulled her into a side hug. “Just playin’ y’all.” I planted a kiss on her cheek. “Big Sis was a huge part of my food journey growing up. I used to watch her do her thing all the time.”
I enjoyed cooking with Paityn because she was skilled in the kitchen. And I’d never told her this, but her dessert expertise surpassed mine every day of the week. She’d taught me the difference between a chef knife and a butcher knife, showed me how to season a cast iron skillet, and even put me up on how butter could transform any dish. The lessons hadn’t stopped there, either. Every early recipe I’d tried had been with her by my side. She’d always been there for me, encouraging me, rooting for me. When I wanted to pursue culinary arts instead of medicine, she offered strong support during that conversation with our parents. She’d been there for every career milestone I’d had since then.
