Page 39

“Make a list so nothing gets forgotten. étty and Marley gave your father a whole grocery list.” Sabrina motions me over. “I think Auggie was right about this oven making rocket science look like a coloring book.”

Auggie is right.

I look over my shoulder to find him partly perched on the island counter, hands braced on the edge of the granite while he watches his mother and I.

“Pay attention,” he mouths with a wonky smirk.

He’s totally enjoying watching me fluster.

“Okay, so the top row is the timer, temperature, and humidity.” Looking back over her shoulder, she takes in the ingredients before she says, “If you’re making meringues, you want dry heat, so don’t worry about the humidity. Unless you’re cooking meat, I wouldn’t bother with the humidity function.”

“What are the other buttons?” Auguste asks moving behind me. His body all but presses to mine when he leans in and watches Sabrina program the oven to the right temperature.

“The keypad is for temperature and to choose which setting within a certain mode you want.” She points at the button that says mode over it. “This button is for the integrated thermometer. Again only helpful if you’re cooking meat… in my opinion.”

“That one?” Of course Auguste presses the button with the red dot on it.

Sabrina swaps his hand away. “Stop touching. That’s the self clean function.”

She turns to look at the two of us, watching her son and I intently as she brushes her hands together and takes a step back. There’s a gooey smile on her face while she observes the two of us. Auguste is so at ease around her that it’s impossible for me not to relax.

“Do you need help making the meringue?” Sabrina asks Auguste.

He glances sideways at me with a shrug. “I think Court knows what she’s doing.” A silent beat passes while I continue taking them in. The way she’s all but melted for her son and the way he hangs on her every word.

A pang echoes in my chest. This is how it’s supposed to be, isn’t it ? How moms are meant to be with their kids and vice versa.

“Court?” Auguste’s hand flattens to the small of my back bringing my focus to him. “Do you need help with the meringue?”

“Oh… no. No, I have it.”

“Okay, well… I’ll see you at dinner tonight,” she tells Auguste, coming closer and hugging him. Then she gives me a hug too and I’m so awestruck at how nice she is that I tear up. I’m blinking my emotions back when she says, “You should come too, Courtney.”

“ Mom. ”

“Auggie, you never bring a guest. It’s always you on your own…”

“Jesus, come on. Sabine doesn’t have a date either.”

A chuckle vibrates from her. “It doesn’t have to be a date. A friend would be nice. What do you say, Courtney?”

Oh. No. No… no…

I can’t.

Nope.

No.

“Umm…” Say no. “Sure.”

Fuck.

“Sure?” Auguste’s eyes bug .

“I mean, if you want me to…”

Say no. “Yeah. I do. Obviously. Of course.”

“Great.” Sabrina is glowing as Auguste starts to walk her out. She pauses to pick up her purse on the kitchen island. “I’ll see myself out.”

“Is Dad waiting for you?”

“Yeah, he and Sabine went for a stroll on the beach.” Her fingers twist through his curly mop defining a few of his frizzy curls. “You’re washing your hair too much and not moisturizing it enough. It would be so much better if you braided it.”

“Do you remember when the other kids used to think I had nits because I couldn’t stop itching the braids when I got sweaty?”

“They were kids, Auggie. White kids that knew nothing about black hair.” Sabrina rolls her eyes at him while she scrunches the tight curls at the front.

“I like my black hair like this,” Auguste says softly, taking her hand.

“It suits your handsome face.”

A bright flush glows on his face at her compliment. I’ve never seen him so self-conscious as when he walks her to the hallway. With another hug of her son, Sabrina waves goodbye to me.

It’s stupid, I know—but the way he watches her go makes something old and empty in me twist hard. The visible care and concern he has for Sabrina and that she demonstrates toward him is beautiful. I wish I had that with my mom.

Instead, I have unanswered calls and ignored messages. It’s okay, one of these days she’ll reach out again. When she’s not mad at me.

I focus on shaking up the egg whites while I attempt to get my emotions in check again. I start pouring them into the bowl when I realize there’s no hand mixer. No stand mixer.

I’ve never made meringues by hand.

“What’s wrong?” Auguste asks when I start panicking.

I know it’s not about the mixer. It’s just what’s tipped me over the edge. It’s so ridiculous to be triggered by a healthy relationship between a parent and child. I can’t admit that to him—that I’m jealous of his relationship with his mom. The admission sounds awful even in my head.

“Court, if you’re freaking out about tonight, you don’t have to go with me. You don’t… like… you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I know,” I say, allowing him to lift my face to his. “It’s not that. I totally forgot about a mixer.”

“I can get you one. ”

“Oh my God, no, Auguste.”

He looks at me confused. “Why not? If you need one…”

“I can do it by hand. It’s fine.”

“Also…” He pulls away tensing his arms to show me his bulging biceps. “You got me, Princess. I’ll help.”

If that didn’t make me laugh, nothing else would have. I really can’t get enough of this easy side of him. How he conjures an answer for anything I throw at him.

And I know I shouldn’t let myself get caught up in it, but I can’t help it.

Like passing a terrible accident that you know is going to give you nightmares; I cannot stop myself from getting lost in him in spite of the fact nothing can come of it, and every day that passes, I’m one day closer to leaving him behind.