Page 94 of Can't Kiss the Chef

“Your mom couldn’t stop talking about how excited she was to spend time with Lola. She said you were pretty torn up over your breakup last year.”

“Well we weren’t really together.”

My dad looks at me quizzically.

“It’s a long story.”

“Well I got time.”

From the beginning of the story my dad hangs on to my every word so I make sure I don’t leave any details out. By the time I’m done, our house is full of all of our closest friends.

“That’s quite the story. You two seem really happy together.”

“We are. There is something about being with her that just makes sense. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“She’s your missing puzzle piece,” His words fade as his eyes turn longingly to my mom who is stepping up to the beer pong table with Lola.

“Wanna play?”

“Let’s show what us Andrews’ men are made of.” He pats me on the shoulders a couple of times before rounding the table.

The sign of unity might be a throwaway comment to most people, but when you grow craving being with your dad even at almost twenty-two, it heals your inner child.

We lost. It wasn’t even close. And no I didn’t let Lola win because it was her birthday. I’m too competitive for that shit. That and her gloating is going to make her insufferable.

“Well that was a good way to end my birthday,” she gloats. Her green eyes sparkle cutting through the poorly lit party. Making me believe no physical gift could give her the same satisfaction as winning.

Lola snuggles her way into my side. The guys and I were in an intense debate about the Stanley Cup odds for this season. My dad was laughing at our heated conversation.

“Arie, can we go back to the hotel? I have to go to the bathroom.”

She gives me an apologetic glance.

“Sorry honey, I’m too old to tempt my fate in this bathroom.”

I’m slightly offended. I take deep pride in keeping this house clean. Well clean for a house full of college athletes.

“I’m ready, we should get some rest before driving home tomorrow.”

The clock strikes midnight as I’m grabbing Mom’s purse from my bedroom.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” I say as both my parents trail behind me. Failing to find the perfect words to describe what this night meant to me. “I’m happy that you got to meet everyone.”

“Thank you for inviting me. It was fun to come back to college for a night.”

“Here’s your purse Mom. Text me when you get back to the hotel, okay?” It’s relaxing some of the nerves I normally get when Mom stays in a hotel knowing she’s not alone.

“Happy birthday Byron!” I’m pulled into a hug.

“I can’t believe that my baby is twenty-two and I got to spend the weekend with my family.”

Her eyes dart to my dad whose eyes are looking suspiciously glossy.

My mom pulls him in and now I’m in a group hug with my parents in my college house. I’m sure some people at the partywho don’t know my family history think it’s odd. That I’m too old for this, but I’ve been wanting this family unit for as long as I can remember.

“I love you guys.”

“I love you, too, Byron,” my dad says.

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