Page 75 of Gifts

My mother sighs as she watches Asa with my daughter and I slump into my chair, dying a slow death, because I can see it in her eyes. I knew this would happen. She’s planning and organizing Pinterest boards in her head—dresses, flowers, cakes. Everything down to the bubbles and personally monogrammed M&M’s, color coordinating with the rest of her chosen accessories.

She’s fawned over Asa since she walked in. My father’s main interest is what he does for a living. Shawn, Stephie’s husband, has focused on his hobbies, and Stephie, my damned sister, has pushed the envelope more than anyone. She’s asked question after question about how he feels about living in the country, if he can wield a hammer and table saw, and how he feels about goats.

It’s been the most painful meal in the history of food.

“So, Asa…” My father leans back in his chair and looks down the table at us from the head where he’s sitting, even though it’s my house. Aunt Lillian Rose is at the opposite end. For some reason in my family, if you’re the oldest, you get the head of the table, no matter whose dining room you’re in. “Tell us more about your consulting firm.”

Asa throws his arm over the back of my chair, appearing totally relaxed, and that’s saying something with everyone throwing questions at him like he was the target of a dunking machine. “I contract with translators who specialize in various cultures. Corporations hire my people to travel overseas with them, help them communicate when traveling abroad. We also offer security. That’s about it.”

“We don’t care about that,” Aunt Lillian Rose quips as she dishes herself another helping of cream cheese French toast casserole before smothering it in butter and syrup. She’s on a restricted diet at her assisted living center, so she goes hog wild at Sunday brunch. But I bite the inside of my lip because so far, Aunt Lillian Rose has been quiet—busy chowing down on food with normal amounts of sodium. “We want to know how you two met, when that was, and how things are comin’ along.”

My eyes go big as Asa gives the back of my hair a playful yank and says, “There’s really nothing to know, Miss Lillian Rose.”

“Keelie,” Lillian Rose admonishes with her tone and wipes her mouth. “I am an eighty-one-year-old southern woman who likes her food. I need to know if there’s a reason for me to keep choking down the low-sodium crap, or say to hell with it, and bask in the good stuff for the rest of my days.”

“Aunt Lillian—” My mother frowns, but our dear great-aunt is not deterred.

“Well, it’s not like any of us are getting any younger here. There’s no time to mince words.” Lillian Rose looks straight at Asa. “I’ll just say it here since the little ones are gone. David couldn’t rub two pennies together if his life depended on it, and it wasn’t because he didn’t make it hand over fist. He spent and gambled away everything they had and then some. Bless his heart—since he’s gone and all.” She rolls her eyes unapologetically as she does her southern duty to bless someone she’s gossiping about, even if he is dead. “Keelie is better off without him.”

“Lillian Rose!” my mother cries, not because our aunt is wrong, but because she needs to shut her mouth. Everyone knows I hate talking about David anytime, so why would I want to rehash that shit in front of Asa and his children.

“What?” She’s shocked by my mother and looks to me. “You’re thirty-five and have the rest of your life to live. You might want more babies.”

Stephie spews her Bloody Mary across the table and Shawn hands her a napkin as he pats her on the back.

Levi shoots a strange look to his dad, while poor Emma doesn’t know what to think of my ridiculous family.

My parents sigh and shake their heads.

As for me, well, my jaw drops and all the air expels from my lungs. I wouldn’t be able to respond if I wanted to and I absolutely cannot look over at Asa.

A baby? I can hardly keep up with the two I have who aren’t babies. The last thing on earth I need right now is a baby.

Asa’s hand weaves its way through my hair, and when he gives my neck a squeeze to get my attention. I glance over, mortified for a myriad of reasons—the talk of babies is just the icing on the cake. When his eyes catch mine, he’s smirking and gives me a wink.

Shit, shit, shit.

My mouth instantly goes dry at the thought of making a baby with Asa, because from our first time together last night, I know I’d enjoy trying, but it’s the outcome that makes me want to break out into hives. I thought I did enough drinking yesterday for the next month, but all of a sudden something strong sounds appealing. I could use a case of wine or two to muddle out the embarrassment of brunch.

I swallow down two gulps of water and am just about to push away from the table to start cleaning up, because I’d rather scrub the floor behind my toilets with a toothbrush than sit through this misery any longer.

Before I can do that, I hear from my side, “Are you expecting anyone else?”

I look over and Asa is studying the screen on his phone. When he raises a brow, I shrug and shake my head, because the good Lord knows, I don’t need anyone else to torture me.

“What’s going on?” my mother asks.

Asa’s face turns hard and he gets up from his seat muttering, “Excuse me.”

I frown, watching him leave my dining room and head out the front door.

Levi clears his throat and tries to make an excuse for his dad. “It’s probably just a work thing.”

I give him a small smile and look across at Emma who’s pushed her food around her plate the whole meal. I feel the need to apologize to them both for what they had to sit here and witness for the past hour.

“Yes,” my father agrees with a satisfied look on his face. “Being self-employed, you always have to be available to the job.”

I find myself wishing I was twenty years younger so I’d have an excuse to be immature and roll my eyes.

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