She had an atrocious apron tied around her waist, a jazzy CD on low in the background, a streak of flour on her cheek, and her honey hair piled like a nest on top of her head. She looked beautiful. For the first time my house didn’t feel old and creepy. It felt homey.
I jumped up on the corner of the counter, the only one without clutter and food ingredients, and my mom grinned at me. I tried not to think about the last time I’d been up on this counter. How I’d been wrapped around Chase. Pangs of longing I couldn’t control stabbed my heart. Days without him were taking its toll, but my stubbornness won out.
“What’s up?” I asked, sticking my finger in the bowl.
She swatted my hand, but not before I scoped some batter. “So, I wanted to run an idea by you,” she began. Her spoon paused.
Uh-oh. What now?
“Please tell me you’re not preggers,” I said. Apparently I had sex on the brain, and it wasn’t wasted on me that there was probably a good chance my mom was doing the deed with Devin.
I shuddered at the thought. Ick.
“Angel, you’d make a great big sister. But no, there are no little babies in our future.” She gave me a pointed look. “Right?”
“Funny.”
“Just checking. Anyway, that is not what I wanted to talk about. I was thinking about having the Winters clan over for Thanksgiving dinner. Devin isn’t much of a cook, and I thought it would be good for them. And us. A family dinner.” She looked at me with her big brown eyes, waiting to see how I would respond.
At the end of the day, I knew that what I wanted was all that really matter to her. So if I made a stink about this, we would be having Thanksgiving with just the two of us. The way it had been the last few years and I liked it that way. But I also knew that things never stayed the same. Change was inevitable. I looked into my mom’s warm eyes and I saw, really saw that Devin made her happy. She sacrificed so much for me. Didn’t she deserve happiness?
“That sounds great,” I heard myself say.
“Really?” she asked like she couldn’t believe that I was being serious.
I jumped off the counter. “Really, Mom,” I assured and gave her a hug.
“Devin and I weren’t sure. He thought that you and Chase had a lovers’ spat. Is everything okay?”
My mom usually lacked the normal internal motherly instinct, so I wasn’t surprised that Devin might have mentioned something to her. I still wasn’t pleased by it.
“We aren’t lovers,” was the first thing out of my mouth. “And we’re fine.”
Lie, screamed a voice inside my head. He still hadn’t spoken to me.
“Well it should be eventful,” she said, squeezing my shoulder.
I didn’t doubt that.
***
Thanksgiving with a bunch of half-demons, my mom, and her boyfriend…sounded like a recipe for disaster. The dreaded holiday was upon me in all its anticipated emotional conflict. “This is going to be worse than a root canal,” I mumbled to my bedroom ceiling. We had the kind of ceilings that had the little popcorn balls on them. Sometimes if I stared long enough, I could make out creepy shapes and faces. To say my house more than often gave me the willies was an understatement.
Laying there on my back, my thoughts drifted to Chase, and how I would be forced to be in close quarters with him. We had successfully eluded the other like pros and the space was bittersweet. Now, the thought of seeing him filled me with a mixture of apprehension and impatience. Whether I wanted to admit it to myself or not…I missed the jerk.
What was wrong with me?
I’ll tell you. It was the damn curse that bound my soul to his for all eternity. Lord help me.
Swinging out of bed, I headed into the bathroom to steam in a very long, indulgent hot shower. Afterward, I threw in some hair product and dried my dark locks. I guess since it was a holiday, I could attempt to look nice, but that still meant no dress. Scurrying through my closet, I tugged on a pair of skinny jeans with no holes and a blouse with the tags still on.
My mom was going to be so impressed.
Butterflies buzzed in my belly as I rounded down the stairs. I knew before I even left my room that he was in the house. It might have been why I lingered upstairs for as long as possible, not yet ready to face him, and at the same time bursting to see him. I couldn’t explain. It wasn’t logical.
My mom’s gentle humming could be heard over the clattering of pots and pans. I stepped into the kitchen. “Glad you could join the living,” she said when she saw me. “Oh Angel. You look lovely.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, a ball of nerves moving through the room. And then the smell of something familiar tickled my nose, and it wasn’t turkey. Sharp tingles frolicked along my skin. My heart rate spiked.
Chase.
I had to fight every crazy and irrational instinct to turn around and throw myself into his arms. Knowing D-bag, I’d probably end up on my butt. Deliberately, I spun around ever so slowly. When my eyes latched onto him, I immediately forgot to breathe. Sooty lashes, fanning the tips of his cheeks hid his eyes as he looked me over. I found myself impatient to see the color of his eyes. Silver or gold? Which would they be?