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I think balancing between social and just couple is a good idea for our future.
Buckets of soap and warm water are provided for foot scrubbing at the nearby picnic tables for cleansing before the eating portion of the day, and we all settle in together to remove as much of the gunk as possible at the same time one of the hosts begins pouring glasses of wine.
“Just water for me, please,” I politely decline when she offers.
“You know you can have one glass and drive,” Nat states from the opposite side of the table. “You’re not a lightweight anymore.”
“You added the anymore because she was prior to you in her life I presume?” Geoffrey investigates on a humored chortle.
“You presume correctly,” she laughs off on a sip of wine.
“My stomach’s been a little off all day.” The confession immediately causes Tate to stiffen. “Rather not play that roulette game.”
“Gracias,” his cousins call out in unison.
Tate uses his palm to lovingly cup my face, gaze scanning my complexion for details. “Como te sientes?”
“Not bad, babe,” I warmly reassure the Spanish asked question. “Just don’t wanna risk it.” Concern remains until I slightly turn my head to press a comforting kiss on the palm of his hand. “Promise.”
He nods, sweetly smiles, and softly instructs, “Dame tus píes, bella.” The waving of his hand for me to lift my feet upward is attached to an overdramatic sigh. “It’s the least I can do for losing us the bottle.”
“We’ll all be going home with a bottle of the house red or white.” Informing him occurs while happily swinging my feet to his lap. “It’s included in the package.”
“Does that mean we get another bottle each?!” Gabby excitedly asks. “As in one we don’t have to split?”
“I think she knows what each means, baby,” Big T scolds.
Warm water from the rag hits my big toe at the same time I reply, “It does.”
“Holy hell, mami,” Rosa sucks in a sharp breath of surprise, “you’re sure you don’t want us to pitch in for any of us? Nothing?”
Laz stops scrubbing the heel of his foot to shout. “Aw, come on, Auntie Rosa! You’re threatening to ruin our free weekend over here!”
She snaps her head at him on a quickly spoken in Spanish scolding to which I swiftly try to soothe by saying, “I’m good! I swear. I just want everyone to have a great time.”
Compliments from the group begin popping like popcorn in the microwave only stopping when Rosa asks her son a left field question. “Is that Blind Blake you’re humming?”
He pauses the foot he’s almost finished working on to look at her as he answers. “Probably? Blues music is Harper’s favorite, but I don’t always know who it is I’m humming along to.”
Her gaze cuts to me in curiosity.
“I grew up on jazz and blues and ragtime with my grandparents. They weren’t fans of rap or hip-hop or really anything they felt was more degrading than romantic. Blind Blake was one of my grandfather’s favorites while Blind Boy Fuller was one of my grandmother’s.”
“Are all blues singers blind?” Laz absentmindedly interjects yet is ignored.
“She’s still debating on which one she wants me to create a music note for,” my boyfriend casually announces the plan to “add my family” to the walking mural that he is. “I’ll probably will just do end up doing both.”
Rather than touch on that subject, I side-step it to further reveal how thoughtful he is. “Sometimes when Tate’s not sure when I’ll be home after my shift, he’ll leave it playing for me over the speakers in the house, so I don’t ever feel like I’m walking into an empty house.”
Rosa’s swoons are cut short due to her son adding, “In fairness, she does the same thing, especially when she knows she won’t be there when I get off. She’ll leave an Elvis film on the tele, an unopen bag of Takis on the counter, a cold pint in the fridge, and make sure all the dishes have been done so I don’t have to worry about them – because she knows how much I hate to do them.”
“Oh,” one hand flies to Rosa’s chest, “I knew you were meant to be my daughter.”
Laughter erupts from both of the men in her life while my best friend loudly swoons, “God, I want that.”
“I’m still single,” Matias calls out from his end of the table.
“There’s a reason for that,” Big T mutters under her breath.
