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“Marc said your stuffing is delicious,” Grant said around a bite, and I almost reminded him to keep his mouth closed while chewing, but I didn’t want to embarrass him. Besides, it was a nice compliment.
“It is good. Everything is,” I added, and she smiled. “Do you have the recipe, Marc?”
The room went silent a second before his family burst out laughing. He looked away sheepishly. “Pretty sure I’d ruin it. But I bet you’d do it justice.”
“Yeah, my dad is a pretty good cook,” Grant said, then shoved another forkful into his mouth.
“Not sure about that,” I replied, my face flushing hot, but I appreciated the approval. “But I’d love the recipe.”
“I’ll send it along with Marc,” Arlene said, seeming pleased. “I hear he’s been helping you remodel your kitchen.”
I wiped my mouth on the napkin from my lap. “More like I’m helping him. All I know is electrical work. I certainly don’t have his skills.”
“You do all right,” Marcus said in that low, soothing tone I liked too much.
When he looked at me across the table, his eyes crinkled at the corners. I grinned and probably held his gaze for way too long. Fuck.
“Anyway…” I cleared my throat. “He refinished the cabinets, and I painted the walls. Grant helped too. Let me show you a photo.”
I tugged my cell from my pocket, then flipped to the most recent photos I’d taken the night the counters and kitchen island were dropped off. I handed my phone to Grant, who passed it to Keisha, and around the table it went.
“Well, damn. You’re hired,” Luis said, swiping through the photos. “Come help us with our kitchen, Marc. It needs an overhaul.”
“Hell no,” Marcus said, and everyone laughed. “I was only doing a favor for a friend.”
“I thought you liked working on side projects.” I smirked. “Were we too much for you?”
He motioned to us. “Between the Hamilton music and the home-cooked meals, I don’t think I can take much more.”
The three of us shared a smile, but I could feel everyone’s eyes on us. Damn it.
“Can you pass the black-eyed peas?” I asked, trying to change the subject once my phone was back in my possession.
I loaded some on my plate, then passed the dish to Grant, who was well into his second helping of turkey and stuffing. “You could use some vegetables on that plate. I think you’ll like these.”
“They’re actually legumes,” he countered but took the bowl from me.
“And legumes are considered starchy vegetables.” I certainly hadn’t meant to argue with him, not in front of an audience, but his smugness sometimes rubbed me the wrong way.
“Reminds me of Keisha when she was a teen,” Arlene said, giving me a knowing look.
“Little Marc was a bigger pain in the butt than me,” Keisha scoffed, and Marcus stuck his tongue out as if they were still ten. When Arlene clucked at them, I laughed.
“Little Marc?” Grant asked. “Was your grandfather’s name Marcus too?”
“Yep.” Marcus smiled. “And don’t you dare, or I’ll come up with a silly nickname for you too.”
Grant grinned in a devious way, as if to say challenge accepted. It occurred to me then that we’d never had a nickname for Grant outside of using his full name when we meant business. But Grant was just Grant, and I liked it that way.
“You’re a junior?” Jeff asked, and Grant nodded. “You’ll be off to college before you know it. Any ideas where you might apply?”
For some reason, I held my breath as he replied, “I think I want to stick close to home.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Arlene said, loading her plate with more turkey.
“You’re young, so you should explore your options,” Aunt Sherry said, and Arlene gave her a look I read as a warning. Seemed these siblings were as different as night and day too.
“Maybe,” Grant said, his eyes on his plate. “Actually, we’re gonna take a trip to New York City. My mom went to NYU.”
“Nice,” Jeff said. “I love the city. When are you doing that?”
Grant looked at me, and I said, “Not exactly sure. Need to look at dates and ticket prices.”
“That sounds fun,” Aunt Sherry said. “It’s better to travel early before life gets in the way.”
She threw Luis a cursory glance, and I had to wonder if some of their plans had gotten spoiled over the years. Much like mine had with Rebecca. And for plenty of others too. It was once a topic of conversation in the grief group.
“Marc might come with us,” Grant said, putting him on the spot, and I stiffened.
“Only if he has the time,” I said in as gentle a tone as possible in front of Marcus’s family. I had no idea if he’d even thought more about our conversation from the other night. And besides, that didn’t mean he wanted his family to know about the offer.
