Drop Dead Gorgeous

It started out sounding humorous, or at least my weird version of a joke, but by the end of my little explanation, I realized how horrible it sounded and started talking faster and faster to get it over with.

Amy blinks and then, with her eyes locked on me, she stage-whispers over her shoulder to Blake, “Oh, I like her. I like her a lot. You should lock her down immediately before she realizes that your good looks hide what an absolute dork you are.”

I whisper back to her, “It’s the dorky parts I like best. I’m a bit of a trivia nerd too.”

“No way!” Amy shouts, pushing my shoulder in surprise. “Frosted Blakes is such a weirdo, I never thought another human being existed like him. Robot girlfriend? Maybe. But not an actual woman.”

I hold my arms out wide, like ‘here I am’, and she beams.

“Blake, I’m going to say something I never say. Are you ready? Because it’s only happening once.”

I’m confused, and a look at Blake doesn’t provide any clarity. He looks just as confused as I feel.

Amy takes a big breath of preparation and says clearly, “I was wrong.”

“Holy shit!” Blake breathes. “Fernanda! Get in here! You have to hear this!”

Another woman comes in from the back of the house somewhere, carrying a wooden spoon and wearing a polka-dot apron. She’s naturally gorgeous, not a stitch of makeup on, her inky black hair down her back but shaved on the sides and tattoos covering her arms and hands.

Blake tells her, “Amy just said she was wrong.”

Fernanda’s brows, one of which is slit, lift high in shock. “She did not.” Fernanda and Blake both eye Amy in disbelief.

Amy throws them both an impish grin. “Too late. I told you I was only going to say it once.”

Fernanda looks to me and I agree, “She did say that.” Quieter, I also share, “But she did say she was wrong too.”

“Ay mi dios! Hell has frozen over!” Fernanda yells, but it seems like good-natured teasing because Amy laughs.

“I can’t help it if I’m always right. It’s just who I am.” Amy adopts a queenly tone, her hand pressed delicately to her chest.

“Oh, God,” Blake moans. “Can we eat so I can get Zoey out of here before the shit gets any deeper?” He mimes high-stepping, lifting his knees up to nearly chest height. I know that has to be uncomfortable because he’s been complaining about his sore abs since yesterday’s workout with Trey.

But to give his sister a hard time? Worth it, I guess.

Fernanda jerks her head toward the kitchen. “Si, chilaquiles are ready. Let’s sit down.”

And all my nerves disappear. This is what family is like, I remember. Fun teasing, a shared history, and time spent together doing things that don’t seem major but that create a foundation of love.

I had this with my parents, and with Grandma and Grandpa, and have tried my best to create it with Jacob. Blake has always had it, doesn’t know any different, and honestly, he doesn’t realize how special it is.

But even so, he’s willing and excited to share his family with me, trusting that though my history is sketchy and riddled with bad omens, superstitions, and hard loss, I will only bring good things to his family. Weird things too, but that seems not only accepted but welcomed.

“Hey, Miles, did I tell you about the new game Jacob showed me? It’s got penguins that ice-skate, but if you fall off the ice . . . seals eat you alive. Chomp-chomp-chomp,” Blake says as he fills his plate and mine with tortillas covered in green salsa, white cheese, and fried eggs.

“That sounds cool,” Miles says with a snaggle-toothed smile. “Can we play after we eat?”

“Yeah, man. And maybe next time, we can bring Jacob, Holly, and Olive to brunch too. Olive is five like you.”

Miles’s little nose crinkles. “I don’t like playing with girls.”

Blake nods his head like that’s sage advice. “I know. But sometimes, girls are okay. Your moms are pretty cool, and Zoey is too. And Olive . . . she’s badass at keeping the penguins on the ice. She could probably teach you a few things. If you wanted, I mean.”

Blake shrugs like he doesn’t care one way or the other. Miles looks thoughtful, scanning the table from Amy to Fernanda to me. I lift my brow, giving him a ‘whatcha gonna do’ look.

Miles shrugs, a perfect imitation of Blake. “I guess that’d be okay. You think Olive likes to slide too? We could play outside after we play penguins.”

“Yeah, I’m sure she’d like that,” I tell him.

Blake looks at me and his eyes are brighter than a summer sky. “I love you, Miss Walker.”

I lean into his shoulder and whisper back, “I love you too, Mr. Hale.”

“Ew, gross!” Miles shouts around a mouthful of food.