Page 23 of If I See You Again

Malcolm

B y the time we got back to the house, I’d finally gotten my shit together. I wasn’t a crying, blubbering mess anymore, which was a good thing, because there were two more cars in the driveway, meaning the circus was about to start.

I was still nervous about David. He deserved so much better than how I was treating him, but if he was willing to be patient, I could try a relationship. But I’d been serious about the fear of losing someone so close to me again.

Aunt Pam and Uncle Gabe were in the formal dining room, setting out dishes.

That meant that my cousins and their spouses were probably wandering around somewhere.

Chris and Marisa weren’t so bad, but Stewart was loud and lacked boundaries.

He asked all kinds of inappropriate questions, and the worst had been after I’d come out as bi.

Everyone else had made it seem like it wasn’t a big deal, but he’d drilled me with questions about how I’d made that realization and if I liked dick more than pussy.

A question that earned him a slap over the head from his mother. God bless Aunt Pam.

“I think—I think I’m going to go offer to help my mom…”

David looked at me, a wide smile breaking across his face. Admitting it had bothered me when she shooed me away this morning had made me feel a little better. Maybe it was what we needed so that we all could properly heal. We couldn’t move past things if we kept avoiding them.

David sat on the couch with my dad and introduced himself to my cousin Chris and his wife Dani. I went into the bathroom to wash my hands before making my way into the kitchen. Mom was fussing over a stack of vegetables as I slid next to her.

“Are you sure I can’t help you? You used to love it when I would cook with you.”

Mom looked up and gave me a tight smile. “I’m not sure…”

My hands shook as I placed them on the counter because I didn’t know how to keep pushing, but I needed this. She needed this. There had to be a way to make it so Mom could see it without making her upset on a holiday.

“Please. I know it’s hard, but…” I braced myself for an argument, but she spoke before I could.

“I know, Malcolm. I can’t keep denying you just because it’s hard for me. Maybe it will help, and maybe it won’t. There’s only one way we can tell, right?”

Those nerves instantly vanished as a smile spread across my face. “Right. We can only try. I’d love to do this with you. If it gets to be too much, I can step out again.”

Mom’s smile was tight, but she nodded, handing over a bunch of carrots. “In that case, why don’t you grab a knife from the butcher block and cut these up for me? I trust you remember how to do it?”

I took the orange vegetable and placed it on the cutting board.

My favorite knife was still in its usual spot, and I pulled it out to cut.

It occurred to me I’d almost forgotten a step, and I reached into the utensil drawer, fishing out the peeler.

It really didn’t matter, but the skin didn’t look as good on the carrots.

Once I’d peeled the carrots, I cut them on a diagonal.

I wasn’t as good about making them all perfectly even, like I used to be.

Years of ‘ cooking for myself’ —also known as I didn’t—had changed things.

Rarely did I put the effort into cooking a full meal.

It was easier to throw together prepared frozen meals or order takeout.

My neck prickled, more than aware that Mom was watching my every move, but even if things weren’t perfect, at least she wasn’t doing all of this by herself. I transferred the cut vegetables into a bowl before reaching for the next item. Potatoes.

I peeled those quickly, watching as the brown skins landed in the trash before rinsing them and cutting them into smaller squares, and placing them in a pot of water on the stove.

Before long, we were moving around the kitchen like a well-oiled machine.

It was like nothing had changed. It didn’t matter that we were one person short.

I knew the things Marcus used to take care of, and I picked them up with ease.

Mom looked less stressed as I grabbed the bag of fresh cranberries from the fridge. We always offered both. A fresh cranberry sauce and a canned one, but when I couldn’t find the red fruit in the refrigerator, I turned to Mom. “Where are the cranberries?”

She sighed. “I’m not sure? I asked your dad to pick them up, but if they’re not there, maybe he couldn’t find any?”

Nope. That wouldn’t do. This meal wouldn’t feel right without it.

“Let me go grab my keys and run to the store. Do you know what’s open today?”

Mom huffed. “Don’t do that. It’s not the end of the world if we don’t have fresh cranberries this year.”

I knew why she was saying it. It was a Marcus task. She’d given him the recipe at fifteen, and he’d tweaked it. Ever since, it wasn’t the same unless he made it. The thing was, I knew exactly what he’d done to it. He’d added sweetener instead of regular sugar. I knew the trick and could do it.

“I’ve got it. No worries.” I was out the door before anyone could stop me and started the car. I’d backed out of the driveway before I’d realized I’d left David alone with my family. He’d be fine. Maybe.

It took a bit of driving around, but I found a chain store that was open for at least another hour. Their pickings were slim, but I grabbed a bag of fresh cranberries and was back on my way to my parents’ house in less than forty-five minutes.

When I pulled back up, there were two more cars, and my heart beat just a little faster. Shit. I hadn’t meant to leave David like that. It was one thing when it was just my family, but Mom had said she was inviting a coworker, and who knew who else she hadn’t mentioned.

I rushed into the house, bag of fruit in hand, to find a few people I didn’t recognize.

There were two small children playing in front of the TV while Dad scowled at them because they were blocking his view of the game, and a couple who were sitting at the table, talking to my aunt and uncle. I didn’t know any of these people.

What was worse? I had no freaking clue where David was.

When I’d left, he was on the couch with my dad, and now he was nowhere to be found.

I quickly dropped the bag of cranberries in the kitchen, excusing myself, before looking for David.

As a host, I was terrible. I’d left him alone with a shit ton of people he didn’t know.

I hadn’t even said anything before leaving. Just up and dipped out on him.

I didn’t have to look long. He was in the backyard with my cousin Marisa and her husband, Anthony. They had two kids, Isabel and Timothy, who were running around the yard and jumping into big piles of leaves that my dad must have raked up at some point.

When I came out the back door, David looked up, mid-conversation with Anthony.

“Hey. There you are.”

I smiled at him before dropping into one of the many fold-up camp chairs that Mom and Dad had set out. “Sorry about that. I got so involved with helping mom. We didn’t have a bag of fresh cranberries, and I sort of just went on autopilot to get them.”

He grinned, leaning in and placing a quick kiss against my lips. My face heated because I knew Marisa was watching. This was all part of giving him a chance, wasn’t it? I couldn’t keep hiding it. Even if this was the first time my family had actually seen me with a man.