Page 50 of Keeping It Professional

My brain did a record-skip at the non sequitur. It took me a moment to see Miles was smiling, peering over my shoulder at someone beyond. I turned, and sure enough, Mom was there waving. She scooped up her shopping bags and made her way over.

“Didn’t you hear me? I was calling your name.”

“It’s pretty loud in here. Mom, this is Miles.”

He set his basket aside and held his hand out to shake. Mom pulled him into a big, crushing hug. To his credit, Miles didn’t flinch. He hugged her back gently, and let her go with a smile.

“Nice to meet you,” he said. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Likewise. But I have to say, Sophie didn’t do justice to how handsome you are.” Mom made a show of looking Miles up and down. “They sure grew you tall. Broad-shouldered, as well.”

“Mom!”

She winked. “I’m embarrassing Sophie.”

Miles looked a little embarrassed himself, his smile too wide, his ears turning pink. But he played it off gracefully, with a slight bow. Mom pawed through his basket, which he’d set on a shelf.

“What’s this, olive oil? Carrots and celery, onions and beans. Orecchiette… ooh! Minestrone?”

Miles lit up. “Yeah. Thought I’d make some for Sophie while the nights are still cold.”

“You should throw in some collard greens. They add some nice texture.”

And they were off, comparing their recipes. Debating the merits of Parmesan versus cashew cheese, sourdough or garlic bread, black or white pepper. Miles introduced Mom to the wonders of finger limes. She taught him her trick for crispy-topped mac and cheese. I picked up a box of frozen egg rolls, felt mildly guilty, and put them back. It was time I started cooking, now I had my own place. And finished unpacking, and got some bookshelves.

“You should try these,” said Mom, and leaned into the fridge. She pulled out a package of cheesy stuffed pasta. “They’reessentially cooked, so you just have to heat them. I can text you a recipe for a quick, easy sauce, and you’ll have a home-cooked meal you can’t mess up.”

Miles snickered, remembering last week’s sleepover, where I’d managed to screw up making us toast. Not even French toast, but just the plain kind.

“Thanks, Mom,” I said. “What do I need, tomatoes?”

“No, it’s a pesto sauce, so it’s simpler than that. All you’ll need is fresh basil, garlic, and pine nuts, and of course olive oil and Parmesan cheese. I’m not even kidding. It takes five minutes to make.” She grabbed a zucchini and tossed it in my basket. “Oh! And you’ll slice this and fry it in butter, add a sprinkle of salt, and there’s your side dish.”

“I see where she gets it from.” Miles smiled at Mom. “You should see us at work, before we get our caffeine — a bunch of old grumps in hi-vis vests. But Sophie comes in, and she lifts the mood. She’s always smiling. Full of pep. She must get that from you.”

Mom beamed with pride. “Well, I don’t know…”

“I definitely do.” I gave her a quick hug and she fairly glowed. She stuffed a handful of garlic bulbs into my basket.

“You know, you two, I have an idea.” She pointed at Miles, and then at me. “I’m having a few people over next Thursday, mostly just family and Sophie’s friends.”

I held up my hands, trying to stop her. I still hadn’t talked to Miles about where we were headed, and now here she was, putting him on the spot. Meeting the family was a big step, and if I put on the pressure?—

“It’s for her three-month mark. You know, on the job. She’s doing so well, and we’re all so proud, and we’d love it if you’d come and celebrate with us.”

“You don’t have to,” I said, before Miles could speak. “He’s probably busy. He?—”

“I’d love to come.” Miles glanced at me. “If it’s all right with you?”

“Yeah, I’d love that. But you don’t mind?”

“Mind? No, I’d love to come meet your friends.” His hands were full, so he bumped his shoulder on mine. “We’ve been working so much, all our dates have been food dates. I haven’t seen much of your life outside of work.”

I didn’t know what to say, I felt so many things: delight that he’d want to step into my life. A prickle of nerves — would he like what he saw? Was this what I’d been waiting for, our next big step? Family-official felt bigger than work. And Mom clearly loved him, and that was huge.

“Can I bring wine? Dessert?”

Mom fanned herself. “You really are perfect. Dessert would be great.”

---