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“Hey, Chlo, great party, but we’ve gotta get going if we want to make it home before dark,” Clark said, walking up the hill with Viv in tow. “We’ll be back as soon as you say our little guy is ready.”
“Or before. In fact, I might just scoot in there now and load my pockets up with puppies when you’re not looking,” Viv said, trying to edge around me on the path.
I laughed. “You’d be a terrible thief, Viv. You just told me what you were planning. Now I’m patting you down before you leave.” I reached out, pretending to pinch her again.
“Seriously, stop with the pinching. Clark, tell her to cut it out.”
“If my cousin is pinching you, I’m pretty sure you deserve it,” Clark chimed in, to her great distress.
“I’m your fiancée! That means you always have to be on my side, no matter what I do,” she said, stamping her feet.
“Impossible woman,” Clark murmured, reaching for her hand, and she immediately blushed. Huh.
As they made eyes at each other, I caught sight of my parents coming up the driveway, my mother’s heels tottering on the gravel.
“Do you want to say hi to Aunt Marjorie first?” I asked.
“Oh, boy,” Clark said under his breath. “Whoa, Aunt Marjorie with Uncle Thomas? Together? And they’re not fight—too late,” he said as my mother shrugged off my father’s attempt to steady her on the gravel.
“Oh, we’re staying. I’m not missing this.” Viv’s tone was light, but she reached out and squeezed my hand.
The three of us traipsed down the hill toward my parents, and I could see my dad looking for me. I could also see my mom looking around and taking note of every single thing.
I took a deep breath, then called out, “Hey, guys!”
“There she is! Hiya, kiddo!” my dad cried out, bundling me into a swing-around hug. “How’ve you been?”
“Hey, Dad, so good to see you,” I said, muffled by his shoulder. He set me down and gave me a quick once-over.
“You look fantastic, Chloe, really fantastic,” he gushed, and I just beamed. Once a daddy’s girl . . .
“Hello, Chloe,” my mother said, and I turned to her. She gave me a not-so-quick once-over, no doubt noting my attire. Cut-off jean shorts, sneakers, a white tank top with the Our Gang logo printed across the boobs, a ball cap, zero makeup, and my long blond hair in two messy braids.
I let her once-over, and twice over, for that matter. I was comfortable, I was happy, and for once, I was literally on my own turf.
“Hi, Mom,” I chirped. “Good to see you.” And part of me really meant it: I missed her. From time to time. “How was the flight?”
“Oh, you know those tiny crop dusters, so bumpy. How are you, dear?” she asked, leaning in to drop a kiss lightly on my cheek.
“Great. What a turnout, huh?” I asked, gesturing to the yard filled with friends and coworkers. Kids running everywhere, dogs barking, and Marge was even getting people to dance.
“Yes, it certainly seems like a crowd.” She smiled, then looked over my shoulder. “And Clark, your mother said you might be here. How are you, darling?” she cooed, stepping past me to hug my cousin. She’d always adored him.
“Hello, Aunt Marjorie, good to see you. It’s so great you could come up for Chloe’s big day.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” she said, and I rolled my eyes behind her.
My dad caught it and winked at me, then turned to Clark. “Good to see you,” he said, and they did the one-armed back slap guy hug.
“Great to see you, Thomas, long time no see. I’d love you two to meet—”
“And this must be your Vivian! Just look at you,” my mother interrupted, offering her hand to Viv. “You must be ready to pop!”
“I’m only seven months, not quite ready to pop just yet,” Viv corrected, shaking my mother’s hand vigorously. “I’ve been so looking forward to meeting you; I’ve heard so much about you, Marge! Can I call you Marge?”
“Oh, well, I—” my mother started, when a sugary southern voice joined the conversation.
“Did I hear my name? Did someone want more of my baked beans?” Marge sidled up to the group and wrapped her arm around me. “Now, who do we have here? This tall drink of water must be your father—what a cutie pie!” she cried, reaching out and pulling my dad down to her rhinestone-encrusted bosom. He shot me a surprised but not unhappy look over her beehive.
Releasing him, she turned to my mother, who took a defensive step back. “And you must be Chloe’s mother. Well, you two are just the spitting image! Look how gorgeous you are—you’re just pretty enough to eat!” She reached out for a hug, but my mother quickly stuck her hand out, avoiding the beehive grapple. “Now, you just come right over here, we need to get you something to eat! You look abso-tootly famished! I’ve got these beans over here, an old secret family recipe, you know . . .”
And just like that, my mother was whisked away to the buffet table, and had a paper plate heaped with secret family recipe beans in her hand before I could even say a word. I looked at my father, who just watched his ex-wife being strong-armed by a woman in a seventies polyester pantsuit. Then we both burst out laughing.
We were still laughing when I felt, rather than heard, Lucas approach. He was just a little behind me, but by my side. I looked left, and there were those blue eyes twinkling down at me. “Hey,” I said, bumping him with my hip.