I rush into the kitchen, pull the garlic bread out, set it on the stove, and turn off the oven. I walk out to the living room and find Bolt sitting across from Jamie in a chair. “Hey, guys, are you hungry?”
“Starving. I’ve missed your cooking, Blue,” Jamie says.
My smile falters. He keeps pushing for more than I can give him. The ring all but burns my finger. I need to give it back. Every time I try, he runs roughshod over me. I sigh. He’s a normalcy I need right now. I don’t want to push him away, but so much about our relationship right now is wrong.
“I don’t know how, man. You’re here every other day,” Bolt mutters.
I sigh. “Bolt—”
“It’s true,” Bolt says.
Jamie laughs. “It is true. You know I always want to be where you are.” He stares at me.
Under his intense gaze, I’m feeling uncomfortable. “Come on, the food is ready.”
The boys rise, and Jamie moves over and wraps his arm around my waist. “How was work today?”
“Good. I’m going to miss the little boogers when summer break comes.” I sigh.
“What are your plans for the summer?” he asks.
“Gardening.”
“What do you think about a trip, just you and me?”
“Jamie—”
“I know. I know you think I didn’t understand your…family situation. Let me prove I do. Bring me around to some events, give me a chance.”
I sigh. “And if we see it doesn’t work?”
“Then you can return my ring, and I’ll back off.”
“You want to do this?” I ask, knowing the shit he’s going to be given.
“Only way you’re going to get rid of me, doll. I know we can make a go of this.”
I sigh. “Fine, there’s a party at the club. Friday, be ready.”
His grin makes me shiver. I never knew a man who was such a glutton for punishment. “Excellent.”
We move into the room, and he takes a seat beside my chair. Bolt takes the chair across from me.
“You boys sit. I’ll get everything to the table.”
“No, you cooked, Aunt Blue. Let me help bring the bread in at least.”
I smile at Bolt, proud as punch. He might not be mine, but at times like this, it felt damn close. In the past, I’d stayed at local college for him. There was no way I could go across the country where I would’ve been be worried about him on a daily basis.
Dixie Rose, my best friend since forever, had advised against it. She knew if I didn’t leave after graduation I would never get out, but she didn’t understand family. Born to an African American King chaser who’d attempted to abort her, she had no one but her Dad, and a seat of awkwardness that screwed with her mind. Old bylaws prohibited African Americans from joining the club. It made for a white landscape. I was a quarter black and felt it. So, Dixie with her curvy frame, full lips, and the cocoa brown skin was almost an oddity. The club members loved her the same, but some of the old members would whisper and stare more than they should’ve. She felt that shit to her core growing up, and getting out had always been her plan. I miss her now more than ever. She has a knack for saying the right things. We’ve kept in touch over the years, but there’s nothing like having her here in the flesh.
Bolt sets down the garlic bread.
I bring over the pot of spaghetti and meatballs. After setting it on the silicone potholder I return to the kitchen for the pitcher of sweet tea that was a family specialty. My mom might have been raised in San Diego city limits, but her family’s roots stretched over to Mississippi. It shows in our words, cooking, and mannerisms. My mom, Pixie, oozes Southern charm. I think it’s what landed her my dad.
I pour them both a healthy glass filled to the brim with ice and sweet goodness. “All right, how about we say grace?” I ask.
“Grace,” Bolt blurts automatically.