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CHASE
“Mom, it’s me!” I yell, slamming the front door shut after I make my way through it. I head into the living room and straight to the kitchen, right where I know she’ll be.
Since she retired from running the café three years ago, she’s barely left that damn kitchen. My dad has to drag her out of it most evenings. All her spare time is spent working on new recipes for Blue. She swears up and down that the café’s success is in large part because she keeps the menu fresh with seasonal foods and desserts.
This year, she’s also decided to put together a holiday cookbook full of recipes they’ve used over the years. Janice Prescott doesn’t seem to understand the meaning of retirement.
“Chase! Hey, baby. It’s good to see you.”
I wrap my arms around her, bending down so she can place a kiss on my cheek without having to yank me down by the collar.
“What are you doing here? Where’s my grandbaby?”She smiles at me warmly, every line and crinkle I helped put on her face visible in the movement. Her salt-and-peppered hair is pulled back into a fashionable bun, and even her trademark burgundy lipstick is flawlessly in place.
“The girls are at home.” I neglect to tell her that they have company. “I need to talk to you.”
She’s reaching into the fridge to pour me a glass of iced tea, pausing her movements for just a heartbeat.
If I wasn’t used to her smooth demeanor, I might not have even noticed. I take the full glass from her with a “Thank you” and sit down at the island.
She stands across from me, eyes cautious as she wipes her hands on a kitchen towel and sighs.“Is it Emily?”
“No, Mom. Emily is doing okay. It’s not about her.”
The tension in my mother’s brow disappears, and she takes a shaky breath before plastering her small grandmotherly smile back onto her face.“Your father is at work.” She says it pointedly, her subtle way of telling me that if it’s important, I should wait for his company.
“I know, Mom. I just talked to him.”
She raises her eyebrows, but she holds back from making the disgruntled noise she probably wants to.My mother is a saint, but she’s always been slightly jealous of the relationship I have with my father. Over the years, I’ve usually gone to him first for advice or big news.
Of course, it was never intentional; I’d never play favorites with my parents. He’s just always been the first person I think of when it comes to talking through my problems. I can count on his levelheadedness to steer me in the right direction and his humor to help ease any blow I’m hit with.So the second Addison got settled in and decided to take a nap, I hightailed it to the office.
“Okay, why don’t I get myself a glass of tea and sit down, then?” she asks. I shoo her to sit and pour her a glass of tea as she rambles. “I have about an hour left on this pumpkin pecan cheesecake. Maybe you’ll have time to try a piece before you leave. It’s been years since I’ve made it. I hope it’s as good as I remember.”
I agree, even though I hate all things pumpkin flavored and she knows it. Much to her chagrin, I’m a simple guy with simple tastes. Fancy recipes have never really been my thing. When I set her glass down in front of her, she thanks me, then waits patiently for me to begin.
As far as parents go, I won the lottery. Even in my teenage years, they were cool. They took things in stride, gave me independence, and treated me with respect. They truly take the words loving and supportive to the extreme. I’ve always known I could tell them anything or come to them for advice on any topic. And within reason, they could put aside our parent-child relationship enough to steer me in the right direction.
Obviously, I’ve made some decisions over the years that many parents wouldn’t agree with. Namely, my initial decision to buy a home to move Emily and Willow into, and then, getting married. Luckily for me, my parents see through the bullshit of societal expectations and trust that they taught me to make the best decisions for myself and those I love.
I can only hope they’ll accept Addison—and our particular situation—the same way they always have Emily.
“Don’t freak out, okay?” I eye her cautiously and rub my clammy palms on my jeans. I feel like a little kid about to tell my mother I broke her favorite vase.
“Chase,” she warns, circling her hands in front of her to usher me along.
“I’m going to be a father again.”
She stares at me blankly, probably waiting for the words to make sense in her mind. Finally, she shakes her head a little and says, “I don’t understand.” A pause and then, “Emily’s pregnant?”
“No, Mom, not Emily.” The words hit her quicker this time, now that she’s prepared. “Her name is Addison.”
“Addison.” She says the name softly, delicately, as if acquainting herself with its sound. “Is that the little brunette everyone has been talking about?”
I nod, not at all shocked she’s already heard about Addison’s presence. Word travels fast in small towns, which is exactly why I couldn’t put off talking to my parents about the matter. They’re understanding people, but they would still do best to hear about things straight from me.
“Wow, Chase. I don’t know what to say.” Her eyes are wet, full of questions and fears that she still seems to be working through. “How did this happen? I didn’t know you were seeing anyone, let alone someone out of town.”
“It was... a surprise to us all.”
