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And all the while, I just sit back and watch with the fullest feeling in my chest.
She fits.
She fits so perfectly into my life.
She fills every void that was empty. She shines light on every dark corner that was unfulfilled. She makes everything make sense.
She fits.
Now, the question is, how the hell am I going to keep her?
43
MASON
“…Now add the rice and the garlic salt,” Karli instructs my sister, Naomi. “You want to keep stirring. Don’t let it burn.”
We’re crowded into Grammy’s kitchen, helping cook our big dinner with the rest of the family.
There’s more than ten of us moving in and out of the room, bumping into each other at every turn. All of the guys with their wives, plus their sister, Nicky. My own sisters. My parents. My uncle, Luther, and his wife, Noelle. And Grammy, of course.
Yes, all of us are here at the house. The Westbrooks do it big.
And Grammy won’t stand for that justwomen in the kitchenstuff today. She makes sure us guys are getting our hands dirty, too. Not that I have any cooking skills to speak of. But I’m on standby for whenever anybody need strong muscles to open a jar or to carry a bag of potatoes or something along those lines.
It’s loud. Everyone’s laughing and teasing and sampling the ingredients as we prepare the meal together.
Karli grins at me from across the kitchen. I wink back.
These flirty exchanges have been about the extent of our interactions this afternoon, as my family has been hogging Karli’s attention. I can’t lie—I love seeing how they’ve welcomed her into the crew.
Now, she’s at the stove, teaching her lemon rice recipe, the fragrant herbs wafting through the air.
“My goodness, my mouth is watering,” my mom is saying. “That smells amazing, Karli.”
“It really does,” Nicky leans closer for a better sniff. “Whatever the herb combo you have going on here, you need to box it up and sell it.”
“I’d be first in line for my order!” Emma says.
Karli blushes, her cheeks looking ripe enough to burst. “I’ll make sure to jot the recipe down for everyone before I leave.”
My chest fills with pride, watching her shy smile and her pinkened cheeks. As much as I love Karli’s fiery edges, I love seeing her when her sweet, tender side takes center stage. From day one, I knew that the sassy mask was just a defense mechanism. And as much as I love the snark and the banter she slings around, it’s always a fucking honor to be in her presence when she finally feels safe enough to set her bows and arrows down.
As our dinner preparations are winding down, I hear Cash mumbling that we don’t have anything for dessert. When he says that, us guys exchange a knowing look.
It’s Harry who eventually speaks up. “Hey, Grams. How about I run down to the grocery store and pick up a cake for dessert? My treat.”
All my cousins turn to Grammy for her response. Nobody expects her to bake today. How do I put it nicely? Well, I can’t.There’s a stranger in the kitchen. And Grammy doesn’t share her recipes with strangers.
Those NDAs she made her new employees sign are no joke. I’m pretty sure she’s legally entitled to their firstborns if they breach those contractual obligations.It’s not something she takes lightly. Therefore, nobody expects her to whip out her baking sheets and start making one of her famous treats with Karli here.
Grammy purses her lips. After a long, contemplative moment, she waves her hand dismissively in the air. “Nonsense, boy.”
Then our aging grandmother shuffles over to the shelf and grabs one of her handwritten cookbooks. It’s clearly seen better days. By now, it’s stained with oils and messes from over the years.
All movement in the kitchen stops. Everyone seems to collectively hold their breath as Grammy flips through the pages.
Then she turns her attention to Karli, a tender smile on her face. “Grab me three large eggs, would you, dearie?”
