Page 57 of Hello Darling
16
Evan
Idon’t know why I’m so nervous—it’s bizarre.
I’ve already circled the block twice before parking just across the street from the house that Stella grew up in. It’s a lovely, large old house with a nice front yard and several cars crammed into the driveway. I can just imagine her running around the lawn with her brothers when she was little, and probably sneaking out of a second floor window, climbing down a tree to meet up with some lucky bloke at night when she was a teenager. I just can’t imagine what it will be like when I set foot inside that house now and sit down to a private family dinner with her, for some reason.
Usually when I meet a girl’s family it turns into a media circus because it’s always somehow in a public place. Stella’s been slaving away in the kitchen since this morning, so I suppose I’m the last to arrive. I’ve already met most of the Starkeys, but this is my first Thanksgiving dinner as a guest in someone’s house, and I’m not entirely sure exactly what her family knows about my involvement with Stella. I suppose I’ll have to keep my hands off her just as I do at the gym, which is no small feat. It’s so unlike me to overthink this kind of thing, but pretty much everything about me when I’m with Stella is unlike me, really. Or more like me than ever. Hard to say.
I don’t spend enough time with my own family. My Nan always invites me for Christmas in Cornwall because my parents are shit at celebrating holidays, but I’m usually either comatose at home in between jobs or shagging an actress and listening to her feelings, which was my part-time job. God. Being with Stella Starkey is fucking stellar.
I reach for the two bottles of wine, red and white, feeling as though I should have more to offer. They’re such a friendly, casual family, and here I am fretting like I’m approaching Buckingham Palace—actually I didn’t fret at all when I met the Queen because I knew exactly what to expect. I even changed my clothes three times before leaving the house today, finally settling on jeans and a sweater.
Oh you got it bad, honey, and that ain’t good.
Shut up, Hugh. Take a day off, will you?
As soon as I ring the doorbell, and hear Chet barking inside, and Billy’s loud happy voice saying he’ll get it, and Stella yelling at him to let her get it—I feel more at ease. I do like this family a lot. I want Stella to meet mine. I want Stella to meet my friends. I want Stella to see my flat. I want Stella.
The front door opens, and instead of Stella, her father Joe greets me with his fantastic eyebrows at ease and his smile warm and genuine. “There he is—get in here.” He pulls me in for a one-armed man hug. “Wow, you’ve bulked up since I last saw you. You up your protein intake?”
“A bit, yeah, and healthy fats, been doing a lot of boxing in your back room with my trainer.”Also a lot of sex with your daughter wherever and whenever possible.
“Well, I hope you’re ready to ingest a ton of carbs today, because Stella has been a maniac in the kitchen for hours.”
“Is that right? She requested I bring a couple of bottles of wine, I hope these are good.”
He doesn’t even look at the labels when he takes a bottle in each hand. “They’re great—we’ll have these when we sit down to eat. We’re drinking beer now, I’ll get you one.”
“I’ll take one, thanks.”
“I’ll be right out, Evan, I just have to finish basting this bird!”
“Smells incredible,” I call out. It really does—rosemary and lemons I think, very Mediterranean.
Billy and Chet come out to the foyer to greet me with equal amounts of enthusiasm, as Joe disappears with the wine, I’m led into a large living room area by the open dining room, where Keaton gives me a nod and I’m introduced to the eldest brother Martin and his pretty girlfriend Lauren. Martin is fit, probably around my age, and his glasses and stubble make him look like the intellectual of the family. He and Lauren never seem to stop holding hands, and I envy them. After hearing from Lauren that all of her friends would “freak out” if they knew she was meeting me, and telling her and Martin a bit about the film, Stella emerges from the kitchen looking every bit the domestic goddess and I fear I am one bite of pumpkin pie away from dropping to one knee and begging her to marry me.
“Hey,” she says, oddly shy and soft-spoken. Her family backs away, returning to the big screen TV, and she gives me a friendly hug. Her hair smells of so many kitchen aromas, and she feels warm and I just want to sink into an overstuffed sofa with her in front of a fire, and watch Nick at Nite while drinking a hot toddy and fondling her. Why can’t that be my life, even for a weekend?
She hands me a bottle of Newcastle. I really do like this family. “Hey,” I say, giving her arm a squeeze. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Thanks for coming,” she says. “Are you…having a good day so far?”
Bless her heart, she appears to be a bit nervous too.
“Did some reading and laundry at home, mostly. Emails, nothing exciting. You need help in the kitchen?”
“Nope, I’ve got it all under control, it’s all about timing. I’ve got like four timers going, but we’re in the home stretch.”
“Cheers,” I say. “You’re not drinking?”
“Not until I’m done cooking.”
“I love this house.”
“Do you? Good. I do. I’ll show you around in a minute if you want.”
The rest of the family yells at the television, as I take in the room. That’s when I notice the painting that hangs above the fireplace. I take a few steps closer to inspect it. It’s a view of Port Gladstone. Stella watches me stare at it.
