Craft (The Gibson Boys 2)

Nana eats this up. She’s by her side faster than I’ve seen the woman move in years.

“My Grandma Betsy had this little light pink candy dish about like this, only smaller. She used to keep cinnamon balls in there for my grandpa.”

Nana’s face lights up. “I have a whole collection of these. Follow me, sweet girl.”

This is not what I had in mind. “Hey, what about me?”

“Eat some cookies. There’s milk in the fridge,” Nana shouts as she disappears around the corner.

Sitting on a stool, I watch the doorway. Their voices trickle down the hallway and hearing them together makes me smile. There aren’t girls in our family but Blaire and she’s not a warm and fuzzy kind of person. Walker’s girlfriend, Sienna, is around now. She comes by and chats with Nana some, but I know Nana is still lonely for the kind of attention us boys can’t give her.

I consider going in the guest room with them where Nana stores her extra dishes. Popping a cookie in my mouth, I’m not really sure what to say if I go in there. It seems weird. So, I eat another cookie instead.

For just a moment, I let myself consider how this would feel on the regular. Bringing a girl by my grandma’s. Doing something on a Saturday night besides being at Crave with my brothers or fucking a girl I’ve texted a few times on an app. In theory, it’s great. If it could just be that, spending time together and hanging out with no strings attached, I could buy it. It probably wouldn’t be bad.

It’s also probably not possible.

I’m another cookie and glass of milk in before they’re done back there.

“Yes! I roll it out with powdered sugar instead of flour,” Mariah says as they come around the corner. The corners of her mouth almost touch the lashes of her eyes. Her hair is pulled back high on her head, her cheeks a gorgeous shade of pink. “You should try it. It’s a neat little trick.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing, but I am going to try it. I’ll make the boys some sugar cookies for dinner tomorrow.”

“We’re having cookies for dinner?” I ask, trying to be relevant. They ignore me.

“I’d love to have your carrot cake recipe too,” Nana tells her. “If you share that kind of thing. Not all cooks do, you know.”

They banter back and forth about recipes and I watch dumbfounded. I’ve never seen Mariah this animated or Nana this excited. I just eat another cookie and wonder why the world works like it does. I go out of my way to be a good person. To avoid situations that cause trouble. To not harm anyone. If karma is real, why do I get put in these positions? Where everything seems perfect on the outside when, in fact, it’s not? It can’t be.

“Why don’t you come for dinner tomorrow, Mariah?” Nana asks. “I’m making pot roast, potatoes, carrots, the works. If you come early, you can show me your cookie trick.”

My breath catches in my throat. Mariah looks at me out of the corner of her eye, checking my reaction. I try my best not to. Having her here tonight is one thing. With my brothers tomorrow is another.

“I don’t think so, Nana,” she says softly.

I’m relieved. I’m also something else, something I don’t want to ponder too long.

“Well, I do,” Nana insists.

“I …” Mariah clears her throat. “I have plans. I’m sorry.” She watches me closely as I try to remain blank-faced. “Thank you, though, for the offer. It’s sweet of you.”

“That offer extends any time, honey. I’d love to have you for dinner.”

Climbing off the stool, I need to get control of this situation. “I’d love to have you for dinner too.”

Mariah shoots me a look as I try not to laugh at my own joke.

“Nana, we gotta go,” I say. “It was nice seeing you.”

Mariah takes a step towards me and stops. “Did you do whatever you came to do?”

Giving Nana a kiss on the cheek, I turn back to Mariah. “I just did.”

“Did I call you and ask you to do something?” Nana asks. “Lord, I’m getting forgetful in my old age. If I did, I’m sorry.”

“You’re fine,” I say, kissing her cheek again. “Come on, Social Butterfly,” I say motioning towards the door. “Let’s get you home.”

Nine

Mariah

Lance is quiet as he backs the car down the driveway. The moon hangs brightly overhead, but the sky is pitch black otherwise. No stars. No satellites. No glittery planets glowing from far off.

The car is cozy despite the cool evening. A song drifts smoothly from the speakers, lulling me even more into a state of contentment. It’s that feeling you get when something really nice happens and you know you could just close your eyes with a smile on your face and drift off to sleep.