She beams, her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. “It’s settled then,” she says, her tone light and cheerful. Then, turning to Elias, she puts on a mock-stern expression. “Now stop standing there like a pretty-boy statue, Elias. Bring the bags inside!”
Elias raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching with barely contained amusement. “Pretty-boy statue? Really, Grandma?”
She narrows her eyes, crossing her arms as if daring him to argue. “You heard me. All tall and handsome, just standing there looking ornamental. The bags aren’t going to walk in themselves, you know.”
I can’t help the laugh that escapes me as Elias groans, dragging a hand down his face. “You’ve been waiting all day to roast me, haven’t you?”
“Not all day,” she responds sweetly, patting his cheek. “Just since I saw you.”
“Unbelievable,” he mutters, grabbing the bags.
As he heads inside, she winks at me. “Keeps him humble.”
I laugh, her playful scolding releasing some of my tension. It’s impossible not to see how much she adores him, and it warms me to witness it. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m part of something deeply familiar—a family of more than two. Something I had as a child before Mom died, and something my brother and I had at our grandmother’s house.
As we step inside, the warm, inviting scent of cinnamon fills the air, wrapping around me like a cozy blanket. Elias glances around, his voice echoing lightly in the high-ceilinged foyer. “Are Mom and Dad home?”
“Not yet,” Grandma replies, hooking her arm through mine with the confidence of someone who runs the whole operation. “You must be tired after that long trip. Come on, I’ll show you to your room. Elias, don’t dawdle—follow along now.”
I glance back at Elias, catching the grin tugging at his lips as he shakes his head, clearly use to Grandma’s no-nonsense charm. He shrugs, and trails behind us like a dutiful soldier.
We climb the long, winding staircase, the polished wood creaking slightly under our steps. My eyes wander to the walls, lined with pictures that seem to tell the story of Elias’s life.
There he is as a baby, wide-eyed and drooling. A few steps up, there’s a gap-toothed grin that could’ve belonged to a mischievous chipmunk. Farther along, there’s a dramatic school portrait with hair sticking up like he’d wrestled with a cowlick and lost.
I can’t help but smile. “Wow, Elias, you’ve always been the star of the show around here.”
“Hard to argue with evidence,” he admits with a smirk, glancing at the photos.
I love how much his family adores him, though the flip side—the meddling—is a little less charming. Still, there’s no denying the warmth in this house, and I can see how much he’s loved.
We make our way down the hall, and Grandma stops at a door, sweeping one arm wide. “Here we are, Taylor.”
Elias steps forward, his brow furrowed. “Uh, Grandma... are we putting Taylor in my room?”
“Of course,” she says matter-of-factly, her hands on her hips like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “She’s your girlfriend. Where else would she sleep?”
My jaw drops. Oh my God, this cannot be happening.
“Uh… maybe the guest room?” Elias supplies, his voice pitched higher, as though hoping she’s momentarily forgotten there’s an entire house to work with.
Grandma narrows her eyes at him like he just suggested she do the laundry by hand. “What kind of relationship do you two have if you can’t even share a room?”
Elias’s face turns red. “We—uh, I mean—we haven’t really?—”
I raise my hands quickly, desperate to regain control. “Grandma, I can sleep anywhere. If the rooms are all occupied, the sofa is fine.”
“Nonsense,” Grandma cuts me off, waving her hand as if swatting at an imaginary fly. “You’re sleeping in his room. You’re adults. Besides…” She grins, mischief sparkling in her eyes. “I want great grandchildren before I’m too old to babysit.”
“Grandma!” Elias practically chokes on his own voice, while I stare at her, half-horrified, half-ready to dissolve into nervous laughter.
“Oh, relax.” She pats his cheek with a devilish smile. “It’s not like I don’t know how these things work.”
I exchange a wide-eyed look with Elias, who mutters under his breath, “This is worse than the time she told me to buy condoms during our fourth of July celebrations.”
Grandma pushes the door open wider and turns to me. “Make yourself at home, dear. And don’t worry—I trust you two will behave…” She winks at me. “…or at least be quiet.”
Dear ground, please open up and swallow me whole.