Page 17 of Stick Work

He smiles. “It’s a mess right now. I don’t even have any furniture, but I’m working on it.”

Grandma smiles. “When you get settled, we’ll come. Plus, I want to see your play, Taylor.”

“Maybe after the new year,” Elias says. “That’ll probably be a good time.”

“Are you two…” Cheryl begins her gaze going back and forth between the two of us. “Living together at the new house?”

“I live with my brother,” I quickly point out. If we’re going to have a breakup later, it might be more complicated to explain the details if we’re living together. “He keeps a close eye on me,” I joke, but it’s true. “He just wants to see me get my education, with no distractions.”

“Coolidge is your brother,” Randall states, as he reaches for his garlic bread, a small smile on his face. “Such a great player, and nice that the guys were roommates for so long.” His bread crushes as he bites into it, and a second later he picks up his fork, waves it between Elias and me. “That’s how you two met?” I nod, all attention on me as he continues, “And you go by Turner?”

“My mother’s maiden name,” I explain. “A way to honor her, and I thought it would be better for the stage.”

God, I’m finding it hard not to be the real me. I’m supposed to be playing a role here—Elias’s adoring girlfriend, and the adoring part is easy, considering I adore everything about him. But really, I’m supposed to be an aspiring Hollywood actress, a girl of value to these people. Instead, I just spilled my heart out about my family’s mental health struggles. Not exactly the glamorous, put-together image I’m supposed to project.

“I think it suits you,” Grandma says suddenly, breaking through my thoughts as she pats my hand, her tone warm and knowing.

I force a smile, grabbing my fork like it’s a lifeline. “I think this suits me,” I say, stabbing a big, heaping bite of lasagna. I chew, swallow and follow it with a sip of wine. “Although my hips would beg to differ.”

Grandma chuckles. “I’ll tell you what,” she teases with a sly grin. “You give me your grandmother’s secret waffle recipe, and I’ll hook you up with my lasagna recipe.” She winks, leaning back with the confidence of someone who knows she holds all the cards. “I don’t give it to just anyone, you know.”

I laugh, playing along. “You’ve got a deal. Wait, do you have a waffle maker?”

“If we don’t, I’m ordering one from Amazon right now,” Elias says and pretends to reach for his phone.

“You’ve never had her waffles?” Grandma asks, and somehow, maybe it’s because of her smirk, I’m not sure she’s really asking about waffles.

“Uh…I’ve never spent Thanksgiving with her before,” Elias responds.

Cheryl, clearly backtracking, raises an eyebrow, mock-offended. “You’ve never given your lasagna recipe to me,” she says, shaking her head.

“In good time, Cheryl,” Grandma teases, patting my hand again like I’m her new favorite person. “Besides, Elias here needs a good meal once in a while in Boston. Lord knows the man can’t cook.”

“I know,” I chime in with a laugh, glancing at him. “We all take turns cooking at home, and when it’s Elias’s turn?” I scrunch up my nose, shaking my head. “Just… no.”

“Hey,” Elias shoots back, his voice full of mock indignation. “I’m not that bad.”

I grin at him, tilting my head. “We all have our skills, babe. Yours just aren’t in the kitchen.”

The table erupts in laughter, and even Elias can’t help but join in, though his eyes narrow playfully at me.

“Fine, Grandma, you can take my place in the kitchen tomorrow morning.”

“It’s settled then. Taylor and I will cook breakfast.”

Elias shakes his head. “Ousted in my own family home,” he mutters, though there’s a twinkle in his eyes when he looks up at me.

I relax in my seat, and this time, I’m the one moving my leg to touch Elias. It feels good, being here, even if I’m balancing the fine line between truth and fiction. That’s not entirely true. I’m doing a terrible job at the fiction part and truth be told, Elias is probably going to be upset with me that I’ve gone off script, told too much about myself and family. Dammit, he asked one thing of me and I’m pretty sure I messed that up.

“Why don’t you two run off and have that swim?” Grandma suggests with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

“I can help with the dishes,” I offer quickly.

“Phooey.” She waves us away dismissively, her eyes twinkling. “No one uses that pool anymore. It’s about time it got some action.”

A blush creeps up my neck as Elias groans loudly, his hands covering his face. “Grandma, you’re killing me.”

I can’t help but smile at the adorable mess of him. “I actually didn’t bring a suit.”

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