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“Don’t worry, I don’t think Sage could say a bad thing about you, even if she tried.” Melody gives me a wink before steering Naomi into the living room to sit.

“You’re going to have to watch out, I think your mom’s attached to Naomi,” Ken calls out from the stove. “You know how she gets when she likes a girlfriend of yours.”

I roll my eyes, walking over to him. “Naomi isnotmy girlfriend. But I remember how she was with Katie. You would have thought she went through the break up, not me.”

I give him a peck on the cheek, leaning in to smell what he’s cooking. “Are you making short ribs?” I ask in disbelief. “What’s the occasion?”

Braised short ribs and crawfish etouffee are my dad’s two best dishes. They’re also reserved for special celebrations only because of how labor-intensive they are. So to see him cooking short ribs just because I decided to drop home while in town for an appointment at Wild Thorn caught me off guard.

“Naomi coming home with you.” He holds his hands up in surrender when I narrow my eyes at him. “I didn’t choose to make this, your mother insisted.”

“Of course she did.”

“I know you said you two weren’t together, but for what it’s worth, I don’t think I’ve seen you this happy with anyone since Katie.”

“James and Ryan basically said the same thing while we were there.”

“So what’s the deal then? Why aren’t you two together?”

I sigh, taking my mom’s spot at the kitchen island. “Because of Naomi.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re trying to tell me that woman isn’t into you?”

“I think she is? It’s complicated. She’s very religious. Or I guesswasvery religious. She told me she has some kind of feelings for me, but whether or not she’ll act on it? I have no idea.”

Ken puts the lid on the pot, leaving it to simmer before walking over and pulling me in for a hug. “I have faith that everything will work out, Sage.” He kisses the top of my head, rubbing my back.

“Thanks, Dad.”

A loud laugh echoes from the living room. “You should probably go check on those two, thick as thieves already. I’ll call you guys when the food is ready.”

I give him a smile before climbing down from the bar stool and heading into the living room. Naomi and Mel were sitting on the couch, going through photos on her laptop, which was placed on the coffee table. The bottle of wine they brought in with them was already empty. “You guys are having a blast.”

Naomi looks up at me, wiping the tears from her eyes from laughing so hard. “Sage, teenage you is a riot.”

“Oh god, Mom, what did you show her?”

“The lip-sync videos you and Delilah made in your mullet era.”

When I was fourteen or fifteen, I went through a pop-punk phase. I was convinced I was going to be the next Avril Lavigne. So I attempted to cut my own hair similar to hers. I failed and ended up with something closer to a mullet, and then I dyed it with blue, pink, and black streaks. The blue ended up turning green in my hair, and the black bled a lot. It looked awful, but for some reason, teen me loved it.

Delilah, a couple of our friends, and I made mock music videos with instruments we borrowed from the school at the time. I think she was the only person with actual musical talent. The rest of us were awful, hence the lip-sync videos.

Mel insisted on keeping photos and videos from that era because she said, “One day, you’ll look back on this and be utterly horrified by what you wanted to do as a kid,” and she was absolutely right. Now in retrospect, I’m completely embarrassed that it happened.

“Yeah I’ve definitely made some better decisions,” I say, taking a seat next to Naomi and slinging my arm across the back of the couch behind her. She leans into me a little, her back resting against my side.

“So, how long have you guys been together?” Mel asks, watching us closely.

Naomi sits back up quickly, and I pull my arm down from the back of the couch. “Oh, we’re not—it’s not like that,” she stutters, getting a bit flustered.

My mom rests her hand on Naomi’s knee. “Sweetie, I see how the two of you look at each other. There’s a lot more than just friends there.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” she mumbles under her breath.

“Because you both are horrible at hiding your feelings. And if I’m going to be honest, Naomi, if you’re not out yet, that closet door is made out of glass.”

“Mom!” I say, giving her a pointed look. “Stop,"I mouth.