Page 38 of Some Kind of Forever
“He’s right,” Chase says, placing his hand on the small of my back. “We do look pretty good together.”
I turn to face him, biting my lip to hide the ever-growing smile as we stand suspended in the moment. “Hey,” I say, looking down.
“I’m glad you could make it,” he whispers, lifting my chin until our eyes meet. It shouldn’t be this nerve-racking, talking to him this close, being that we see each other nearly every day. I shouldn’t have this crescendo of butterflies in my stomach every time, and yet, something in the small ways he touches me melts any logical thought I have. I expect him to kiss me right here, but he lowers his hand and laces his fingers with mine instead. “Is this still okay? Holding hands?” He rubs his thumb over mine.
I nod, and with a smile, he pulls me across the kitchen. We make it out to the deck, where we’re immediately greeted with loud music and laughter. Ashlie and Hunter are sitting on the banister with drinks in hand, swaying side to side, watching three young girls play with sparklers. Maggie and her friends are at the far end of the conjoined deck, sitting with a slender woman whose graying light brown hair is pulled up into a loose bun. A tall blond man wears an apron while standing at the grill, smiling over at a Black man sitting in a chair. The Black man looks familiar, but I can’t quite place where I’ve seen him before and assume it’sfrom the diner. Chase clears his throat, and the two men turn their attention toward us, still smiling.
“Everyone, this is Kayla,” he announces, turning toward me. “This is my dad, Russell Wilmington, at the grill, and Hunter’s dad, Kendall Jackson.” I give a self-conscious wave and they say friendly ‘hellos’ and ‘nice-to-meet-yous’ before returning to their conversation. “My mom is over there with Maggie,” Chase continues, pointing across the deck. “And the two blond girls over there are my sisters, Avery and Hadley. The third one is Hunter’s sister, Artemis.”
I turn to him with an overwhelmed smile on my face as I realize what I just walked myself into. I’m meeting his entire family, on a holiday, and I don’t even know what he and I are doing yet. Hell, we haven’t doneanythingyet.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be here the whole time. I got you.” He gives my hand a squeeze, seemingly reading my mind, and leads me toward our friends.
I meet Chase’s sisters—Avery, the long-legged fourteen-year-old with braces, and Hadley, the eleven-year-old math genius with pigtails—who are actively trying to see who can hold on to their sparklers the longest before chickening out. Hunter’s sister, Artemis—Artie for short—is ten. Loose brown spirals frame her face as she talks excitedly to Ashlie, having abandoned her sparkler. Ashlie motions for me to come closer.
“Don’t Artie’s curls pop? I told you that hair mousse would fix you right up! You gotta leave that hard cast on our hair type. No scrunching it out like the straight-haired girls or it gets frizzy.”
“Yeah!” I say, understanding the assignment. “It looks great! Ashlie’s a pro with curly hair. She used to do mine all the time.” Artie turns to me, green eyes lighting up with excitement as we hype her up.
“Artemis, you really should let me straighten your hair,” a disappointed voice scolds from behind me. “Your mom would hate to see it looking so…” Maggie waves her hand around her head before finishing with “…wild.” Artie, so excited before, slumps her shoulders and kicks at the ground. I see the little boost of confidence she’d acquired shrivel and wither away.
“Magnet”—Hunter mimics with a bite to his voice—“you should really stop being such a b?—”
“Watch it, son,” Kendall warns, deep voice rumbling as he walks up to stop the ensuing battle. His voice tickles at a memory I can’t quite place. “Artie-girl, you look beautiful. I love your curls,” he reassures her lovingly. Maggie turns around in a huff, and suddenly, the bread aisle comes vividly into my mind.
“You’re the Pickle Guy!” I say, like everyone knows what I’m talking about.
“Excuse me? The what, now?” Hunter’s eyes go wide. He looks over at Chase, who shrugs and tips his head to the side as he looks at me.
Kendall takes a beat before recognition spreads across his face. “Ah, Bread Girl.” He nods knowingly with a smile. Everyone’s looking at us like we’re speaking some alien language. Giving a chuckle, he dives into the story of how he was shopping for condiments when a jar of pickles jumped off the shelf and crashed in front of him. When he tried to turn around, more pickles smashed to the floor, like a classic paranormal movie. “That’s when I heard grumbling from the next aisle over.”
“I couldn’t reach the last loaf of bread and was trying to launch myself up the shelves to get high enough,” I continue for him. “I was this close to throwing my shoe when he came over, handing me the bread and telling me I almost knocked him out with a pickle jar.”
“Pickle Guy and Bread Girl sounds like some defunct superhero team.” Hunter snorts a laugh.
Ashlie chimes in with a goofy announcer-like voice, “And with their powers combined, they can make…sandwiches.” We all lose it at that, laughing with ease like we’ve known each other forever. The nerves I was feeling at the thought of being around these strangers dissipate, and Chase has been true to his word, never leaving my side.
“The food is ready!” Russell calls from the grill, closing the lid and placing a plate full of burger patties on the elongated table. Everyone migrates to their seats when Chase steers me off to the right. He grabs his mom’s arm as she passes, turning us into a cozy little trio. “This is my mom, Christine,” Chase says with a smile. “Mom, this is?—”
“Kayla.” She smiles, looking back and forth between us. Her eyes match the dark blue of the ones smiling next to me. “Chase is right. You are breathtaking. It’s nice to meet you.”
Startled by her frank phrasing, I stammer, “I…th-thank you. It’s nice to meet you too.” She pats my arm, and the three of us continue to the table.
The fruit and salads have made their way to the table outside, as well as just enough chairs to account for everyone. Kendall and Russell take the ends of the table, with Christine sliding into an empty seat right next to Russell. They instantly reach for each other in a way that shows they’ve been doing it forever. Ashlie is between Artie and Hunter, next to Chase’s sisters on one side of the table, while Maggie and her friends—twin sisters Camryn and Tamryn—are on the side of the table closest to me.
One empty chair flanks the three of them on each side, creating a seating dilemma. Maggie turns and looks right at me, offering a thin-lipped grin that doesn’t reach her eyes. My steps falter, and Chase looks to me before glancing at the table where Maggie sits with a satisfied smirk on her face. He clears his throat, getting the attention of his mother.
“Oh, Magnolia, could you move?” Christine says nonchalantly. “You’re in Chase’s seat. Your spot is next to your Uncle Kendall.”
Maggie goes rigid, cheeks burning bright red as everyone turns to look at her. Hunter chokes on his drink, prompting Ashlie to clap his back with one hand, hiding her laugh behind the other.
“Oh, yeah, sure,” she says politely, moving three seats over. Chase squeezes my hand, leading me to the seat by his mom, before taking the one next to Camryn…or Tamryn. I can’t really tell them apart until one of them speaks. Camryn’s voice is high pitched and airy, while Tamryn’s has a much deeper tone.
I glance over at Christine, and she smiles warmly, patting my hand. She winks, and when I turn toward Chase, he winks. I’m sure Russell would do some winking of his own if I were to look at him. It must be a Wilmington family trait because I’ve never been winked at more in my life.
We all dive into the food, passing around sides and making small talk while eating. Feeling eyes on me, I catch Maggie’s glare across the table before she looks back down at her plate. Christine and Russell ask me about school, my jobs, and my family—nothing too detailed, just enough to get a general sense of what I have going on. Chase squeezes my knee, leaning in to learn about all the things I’ve yet to share with him.
“How’s it going at NYSOB, Magnolia?” Kendall asks loudly enough to make this a table topic.
