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“Benjamin Charles,you get that poor girl a refill right now,” Ben’s mom snaps. She turns back to me in the cream-colored patio chairs we’re cozied up in and rolls her eyes. “I swear I raised him better than the heathen he’s become. Now, tell me everything you’ve been up to. I haven’t seen you since the Christmas party.”
Sybil immediately knew something was up when we arrived at dinner. Our less than enthusiastic greetings probably gave us away. The woman should be training the military on interrogation tactics because Ben and I folded in a matter of seconds. We told her everything that had happened today, and she pulled me into a big hug and told me everything would be just fine.
Then she made Ben take my bags upstairs while she made a pitcher of sangria. We’ve been sitting on their back patio, soaking up the sunshine and drooling over the smell of grilled meat. It’s exactly what I needed after what happened.
Since then, Sybil and I have talked about everything and nothing while the boys stood over the grill. They’ve been murmuring about something since we got here, and even though I have a guess that it’s about me, I’m glad to see the two of them getting along again. Their rocky relationship has been mended all because of some solid communication.
“Ladies, please find your seats at the table. Dinner will be served momentarily,” Dr. Charles says, plating up the steaks from the grill. Ben walks out with the side dishes as we all find a place to sit.
When we’re settled, Ben’s mom grabs my hand. “I am just so thankful you’re here with us and with my baby boy. He needs some happiness and the occasional swift kick in the ass, and I know you’re the perfect one to do it.”
“Mom!”
A laugh bubbles up from my stomach before I’m able to shove it back down. I know Sybil meant her comments seriously, but the whole thing tickled me.
“You know, love, you’re right. He does need the occasional kick in the ass,” Dr. Charles agrees.
“Hey!” Ben’s outraged shout brings more laughter around the table as well as a pat on his shoulder from his dad.
“It’s kind of true, son. Us Crawford men tend to be a little dense sometimes. Those kicks are necessary.” Dr. Charles winks at me.
As we eat dinner, the laughs continue, making me forget the chaos surrounding my life. I’m able to pretend, just for a moment, that everything is normal. That my life isn’t being flipped upside down by some psycho.
But in the back of my mind, I know this is only the beginning of the chaos.
31
BEN
Today…sucked. There’s no other way to describe walking into Sara’s bedroom and finding out someone had gone through her things. Angry was an understatement for how I was feeling. I wanted to throw something or put my fist through a wall. Anything to expel the fury that was coursing through me.
Instead, I clenched my teeth for three hours straight. Sara needed me to hold it together, not rage through the house like a Neanderthal. I was so proud of how she handled the situation, especially after everything she’s gone through the last couple of months.
Now, she’s getting loved on by my mom, and I think it was exactly what she needed. If it was coming from her own mom, it probably would’ve been stifling. What’s better is Mom knows exactly what she’s doing, too. Mother-henning Sara after what happened today while making her think it’s because I brought a suitable woman home.
She’s pretty ingenious.
“How about dessert?” Mom asks the table.
“Steakanddessert? Sara, you’re coming over more often.” Dad winks at her, making her blush.
“You act as if I starve you,” Mom huffs.
“Sara, have you ever had fish three days in a row, each one tasting exactly like the last, despite being named something different?”
The sigh from Mom is about as big as a gust of wind while Sara just shakes her head at my dad.
“I don’t believe I have.”
“Let’s just say, this is a special treat, and I would like for it to continue. What did you make, darling?”
“Cheesecake, but I’m tempted to shove your face in it right now.”
“It would still be the closest I’ve been to dessert in months, so I’ll take it.” Dad chuckles.
“Insufferable man.” Mom gets up from the table, grabbing plates to make room. I help with the rest of the dishes and follow her inside.
“I just want him to be okay,” she whispers as I set the dirty dishes next to the sink.
