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My mom waves her off. “Oh, none of that. Call me Claire.”
After my mom hugs Blaire again, we climb the stairs to the porch. “And this here is my brat of a little sister,” I tell Blaire as I pull Trazia in for a hug, picking her up because I know how much she hates that.
Trazia and I have always looked scary alike, some people thinking we’re twins at times, even though I’m three years older. The only difference is that she changes her hair every time I see her. Currently, it’s a platinum blond, so even with the same eyes and facial features, we look different enough.
Trazia pulls from my hold. “You’re an ass.”
“Language,” my mom scolds. My sister and I laugh because my mom is the one who curses up a storm.
Trazia walks over to Blaire and gives her a gentle hug. “I don’t know what you see in my brother, but you seem like a nice girl. It’s not too late to run.”
Pushing Trazia away, I wrap my arm around Blaire’s waist. “Oh, fuck off, she’s not going anywhere.” I nuzzle my girl’s neck and she tries to push me away, but my hold on her only tightens.
“Gross, get a room,” Trazia says before following my mom back through the front door.
The house is an open floor plan and the first room you enter when coming inside is the living room. It’s small, fitting a five-seat sectional, a stand with an old TV sitting on top of it, and a small, rectangle coffee table. My mom has made the most of the space we had, and it never felt like it wasn’t enough. It’s always felt homey to me.
With my hand on the small of her back, I guide Blaire toward the kitchen that is just off the living room. My mom made her famous lasagna that has won the hearts of all her coworkers and many patients at the hospital where she works as a labor and delivery nurse.
“Wow, it smells delicious,” Blaire says, closing her eyes as she takes in the aroma of spices, tomatoes, and melted cheese.
Trazia is cutting a loaf of Italian bread and I sneak over, snagging a piece to dip it in the sauce that I know my mom made too much of.
I moan after taking a bite. “Baby, come over here. You’re gonna die after you’ve had this.”
Blaire joins me and after dipping a piece of the bread in the sauce, I lift my hand to her mouth. I try to ignore the look of her lips as she closes them around the tip of my finger, taking the soaked bread into her mouth. She moans and damn I need to focus on not getting hard in front of my mom and sister. “That’s the best sauce I’ve ever had,” Blaire tells my mom.
My mom serves us all a piece of lasagna while I get everyone drinks and we gather around the four-person kitchen table. Blaire seems to have relaxed since we were in the car and is laughing at my mom’s story of how I tried helping her make this same meal when I was eight and she ended up burning the sauce because she didn’t realize I turned the stove temperature up to high.
“Blaire, tell us about yourself. Where are you from?” my mom asks.
Blaire stops her fork just before it reaches her mouth and freezes, then puts it back down on her plate. “Oh, um. I’m from a small town called Maskon in Texas.” I know talking about her life there makes her uncomfortable. I haven’t pushed her to tell me much, especially after hearing how horrible her friends and family were to her.
“Wow, you’re a long way from home. Do you still visit your family? Your parents still live there, right?”
Just before I can change the subject, Blaire answers. “Well, yes, they still live there, but I haven’t seen my parents since coming to Braxton. We had a bit of a falling-out.”
“Oh no, I’m so sorry to hear about that.” My mom seems to understand it is not something Blaire wants to talk about and doesn’t ask any more questions about Texas or her family.
After a second serving of food, I’m ready to be rolled out of the house. We have covered every standard meet-the-parents conversation from what Blaire’s major is, and my mom seemed genuinely interested in what Blaire said about her English degree, to more embarrassing stories of when I was a kid.
“May I use your restroom?” Blaire asks.
My mom is cutting some kind of apple cake she made. “Of course. Honey, why don’t you go show her where it is.”
I take Blaire’s hand and she follows me down the short hallway off the side of the living room. The first door on the left is Trazia’s bedroom and just a few steps down on the right in the bathroom we shared as kids, which she took full advantage of making it girly with pink decorations the moment I left.
She heads into the bathroom, and I lean against the wall outside to wait for her. When she comes out, I can’t help but smile. I love having her here with my family and how right it feels. She approaches me and I pull her to me by her belt loops, bending down to kiss her.
“What was that for?” she asks after pulling away.
I kiss her again, never being able to get enough of her. “Just because. I like having you here with my family.”
“I like them a lot. They’re sweet and love you so much, Camden.”
“They really like you too, you know? I keep catching my mom looking between us and smiling.” She doesn’t think I notice, but when my mom looks at Blaire and me, she gets this hopeful look and it makes me feel like shit that it has taken me this long to bring someone home to meet her, but I’m glad I waited for the perfect girl.
“How about you show me the bedroom of Mr. Ladies’ Man Camden Collins,” she says, biting her lip.
