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My head whips to the bathroom door, heart lodges in my throat, and“sugar”opens the door, looking at me with interest.
“This feels like an ambush,” I whisper. “Did you know she was coming?!”
“No idea. But sometimes she comes to bring dinner, because… well… she’s a southern mother.” He shrugs. “Your jeans are on the bed, along with your t-shirt, but you’re welcome to keep my shirt on.” Those dimples make an appearance on his cheeks, “It looks good on you.” And I just about melt, forgetting his mother is downstairs.
I quickly wipe the rest of my body, run back through the dressing room and to the bed, pulling on the jeans and his shirt as fast as I can. I tuck in the shirt so it’s not too obvious, then try to make my hair presentable.
Oh fuck, no matter what, I still look like I just came out from his shower.
“Here goes nothing.”
As I walk down the stairs, I can hear them talking in the kitchen, and my heart still hasn’t come down from my throat.
“Just reheat it and it will be good as new.” I finally see them, and the sight is such a contrast to The Serpent’s image to the outside world. I can’t quite fathom it’s true. She’s a short woman, a few inches shorter than me, with curly black hair, just like Vincent’s, only dusted with grays, caught in a loose bun at the nape of her neck. She looks unnaturally sweet next to this man, in her flowery knee-length dress draping over her full hips, while… pinching her son’s cheek.
When she turns and her gaze lands on me, she scrunches her eyebrows, takes a step forward, and cocks her head.
“Mamaw, this is…”
“Morrigan?! Morrigan O’Rourke, as I live and breathe!”
Ummm…
“Come here, sugar, let me look at you!”
“Hello, Ms Sinclair.” I walk quickly to the woman that holds her arms open to me, too shocked to say more than that.
“Oh please, call me Mamaw June. Everyone does.” She grabs me by the shoulders, holding me at arm’s length, her smile so bright it could turn a sinner to a saint. “You’re even more beautiful than I remember.”
“I’m just surprised you remember me…”
“No one forgets a girl like you, honey.” She draws me into her arms and squeezes me. It’s warm. It smells of peach pie and a summer garden. She smells of love…
I hug her back, and only after she releases me do I remember her son is in here too. When I look at him, I can’t quite pin the look in his eyes. Somewhere between surprise and disbelief.
“Come, eat, you look a bit too skinny.” I burst into a full belly laugh as she pulls me along with her, toward the island, all too aware of my soft, plump body. She ignores me though, pulling out a casserole that instantly makes my stomach grumble with its smell alone, along with a basket of biscuits.
“I guess we’re eating.” Vincent sits next to me and pulls a plate his mother sets on the island.
“We might have to go for a walk after this…” I’m not shy with the serving size, it truly does smell incredible, then I grab a couple of biscuits. “Damn, they’re still warm.” I whisper.
“There’s pecan pie too.” She points to a dish in the far corner of the kitchen.
“Definitely a walk.”
“I’m gonna get out of your way because I had no idea he had a guest, but you have to come for tea soon!” She comes over and gives me one more warm hug, and my God, this woman feels so… homey. I almost forgot how sweet she is. I guess growing up with parents like mine, you forget how they’re actually supposed to act.
“Thank you for the food! It smells so delicious!”
“My pleasure, sugar! Take care of yourselves.” She walks out the door after kissing her son on the cheek, and I grab a spoonful of whatever she cooked, moaning like I just got fucked all over again.
I turn to Vincent, my cheeks full, chewing excitedly, but stop when I note his glaring eyes.
“Wut?” I mumble.
He shakes his head, biting his lip as those dimples threaten to brush his cheeks, and turns to his own plate.
Screw him, this food is more important right now.
