Page 16 of The Flavor of Us

My mom tilts her head slightly, her lips twitching like she’s trying not to laugh. “You’re awfully smiley tonight, sweetheart.”

I swallow the bite of chicken, my cheeks heating up. “I—no, I’m not.”

My dad snorts, shaking his head as he sets his fork down. “Tati, you’ve been grinning at your plate for the past ten minutes. You look like you’re in a rom-com montage.”

I groan, dragging a hand down my face. “I’m just… I’m in a good mood, okay? Moving back has been a lot, and Ellie just had the babies, and it’s just—there’s a lot going on!” My face heats up as I try to figure out the best way to drop the Carleen bomb. I’m not embarrassed but there’s no doubt that both of my parents can smell her scent on me. I haven’t been exactly subtle and I did fall asleep with her sweatshirt beneath my head last night.

My mom smiles softly, her head resting on her hand as she watches me carefully. “All of that’s wonderful, baby. But that’s not what’s got you glowing like that.”

I open my mouth to argue, but my dad cuts me off with a casual, “And you haven’t mentioned moving back in. Not once. And… if I’m not mistaken, you smell like someone we all know and love.”

And there it is. I wish the floor could open up and swallow me whole. My fork clatters onto my plate, and I’m pretty sure my face has gone a few deeper shades of red. “Um, yes. I was going to tell you. I just… yes, me and Carleen.” I’m not even sure why I’m so embarrassed about it.

My dad laughs, reaching for my hand across the table. He squeezes it reassuringly before returning to cut into his chicken. “Tati, you’re the one who came in here smelling like rain and peaches. You might as well have walked in with her name stamped on your forehead.”

“Stop!” I wail, my voice muffled behind my hands. It’s my fault that my parents even know that scent—not because of the nights I spent wrapped around Carleen but because every time I came back home, I tried to recreate the scent. It got so bad that my parents told me I could have no more than one or two candles or scents in my room at a time. I wasobsessed.I still am.

And I’ve never been able to truly recreate the same scent.

My mom’s voice cuts into my thoughts as she smiles across the table at me. “Tati, sweetheart, we’re just happy you’re happy. You deserve that. And if it’s Carleen who’s putting that smile on your face? Well, we’ve always adored her.”

“She’s a good Alpha, Tati,” my dad adds, “A little intense, sure, but she’s got a good heart.” Intense is one word for it but she’s always been soft with me and I love it.

My mom hums in agreement. “And she’s always looked out for you, even when you two weren’t speaking. I know you’ve been through a lot, baby, but if you two are finding your way back to each other, then I’m 100% on board.”

My throat tightens instantly and I blink a few times, trying to fight back the sudden burn of tears in my eyes. She says it so simply, so casually, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like she’s always known it would happen.

“Thanks, Mom,” I mumble around another bite of food.

“And you know what else?” she continues, her lips twitching again. “You should invite her over sometime. Dinner, lunch, coffee—I don’t care. I’d love to see her again, now that the two of you are together.”

I swear my parents live to torture me. “Jesus Christ, Mom. It’s really new. I can’t just drag her over here but yes, I’d like that.” Sitting around the table with my Alpha beside me? That would be a dream come true but maybe like… next week or the week after when we aren’t still fumbling around each other.

Laughter follows as we finish dinner, my thoughts falling back on Carleen and the few times she’s met my parents in passing.

She’s always beenCarleen—Ellie’s older sister, polite, respectful, confident in that effortless way that only she can pull off. But she’d never lingered. Never stayed long enough for my mom to pull her aside and bombard her with nosy questions or for my dad to give her one of those heavy, fatherly looks that says,Take care of my daughter.

Maybe that’s going to change now. Maybe we’ll get there.Hopefully,we will.

“Hey,” my mom says, her voice pulling me back to the present. Her warm eyes are locked on me, her head tilted slightly to the side. “I’m proud of you, Tati. For everything. You’ve built a life for yourself, even when things got hard. You’ve made your way and you’ve done it with your head held high.”

My chest tightens again and this time I can’t stop the tears that gather in the corners of my eyes. I look down at my plate, my voice cracking slightly as I speak. “Thanks, Mom.”

Because I know not everyone gets this. Not everyone has parents who support them so unconditionally. Not everyone gets to sit at a dinner table and hear those words without judgment, without expectation.

I didn’t even finish school. I never got the degree my parents always dreamed I’d have. I found more love, morelife, in dancing under the neon lights of Euphoria. And yeah, maybe it’s not everyone’s dream job, but it pays well—reallywell—and it’s allowed me to save up, to build a life I’m proud of. My mom sees that. My dad sees that. And knowing they love me not inspiteof it, butbecauseof it? It’s everything.

The rest of dinner passes in soft conversation. They ask about Ellie and the babies, about how she’s handling being a mom tothreeinfants. I tell them about Quinn’s tiny fingers, Oliver’s sleepy face, and Aria’s surprisingly strong little grip. My dad jokes about how Macon’s probably aged ten years overnight, and we all laugh.

By the time the plates are empty and the leftovers are packed away in the fridge, I feel calmer—my thoughts reset, and my belly full. “Don’t be a stranger, baby girl,” my dad whispers into my ear as he hugs me tight. I don’t want to let him go but work beckons and every bone in my body wants to rush back to Carleen’s apartment and settle in her arms.

“I won’t. I promise,” I say, hugging my mother next. With one last look around, I disappear back out into the evening air, ready to step back into the life that I left behind.

Walking back intoEuphoriafeels like slipping into a second skin. The pulse of bass-heavy music thrums through the floorboards, the faint scent of vanilla candles mixed with stage makeup and perfume hanging heavy in the air. The flashinglights, the velvet curtains, the glint of the poles under the glow of stage lights—it’s all home.

It’s like riding a bike. No matter how long it’s been, your body just remembers.

The only thing missing is Ellie at my side as we joke about all the other prissy Betas just out here looking for an Alpha to take them home. I wonder if Ellie would ever step on the stage again or if her interests have realigned to babies and her beautiful Omega. That’s a question for another day.

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