Page 244 of Fury

She shot me a warm grin. “His favorite.”

I brought the platter of braised lamb shanks to the center of the table, Lenore served an arugula salad with shaved parmesan and red seeds. The three of us sat down to eat.

They talked, exchanged stories about Lenore’s store, the town characters, the type of songs Beck was working on.

I didn’t have too much to say. I listened. I drank my beer. I ate the lamb, the potatoes, and they were damned good.

Beck poked at his salad. “Pomegranate seeds, huh?”

“Aren’t they a good contrast to the peppery greens? What do you think?” Lenore asked, her eyebrows raised high.

“Mother, are you doing this to me on purpose?”

She let out a rich, satisfied laugh. “Of course I am.”

“I haven’t forgotten the dried goji berries and prunes you put in that roast pork in LA.”

“You hated that.”

“As if you’ve forgotten.”

Lenore glanced at me. “We were at his father’s house for this family meal which me and his stepmother made together. Beck turned the berries and prunes into projectiles during dinner.”

“They landed in the swimming pool,” said Beck.

“Except for the ones that landed on me and your sister.”

“Then you two tossed them in the swimming pool too.”

“Couldn’t help it.”

“Yeah, Dad and Pam weren’t too happy with us.”

She sighed dramatically. She was amused. “Oh well. The element of surprise is my favorite weapon. How else am I going to get you to expand your horizons, honey?”

I was lost. They had their own riff going between them. A riff of shared memories and experiences. Familiar likes and dislikes.

I pressed back in my chair. I didn’t like feeling awkward. I didn’t do awkward or insecure, for fuck’s sake. Here I was on the outside looking in on an aspect of her life that was so important to her, her life with her son.

But her life was now my own. We were stirred together like a potent cocktail, each liquor’s flavors discernible, but blended they created a unique flow of taste and color in the glass.

Beck wasn’t my son, but he was the son of the human being I loved more than any other in this world. If I wanted to be a part of her life, and I did, I was, I had to find a way to be a part of Beck’s life. This wasn’t the family I’d foreseen for myself, but what the hell ever turns out perfect or the way we want it?

All my life I’d striven to create my own identity, to leave my own mark my way, and I’d achieved that. Now, here I was with Lenore, my Serena, in her house, eating at her table, sleeping in her bed, making love to her day and night, night and day.

I needed to try.

“I have to say,” I began, and they both turned to me, eyebrows raised, forks stalled mid-action. “I’m not a fan of fruit in my food either.”

“Voice of reason, there you go.” Beck grinned as he resumed chewing. “Thanks, Finger.”

Lenore rolled her eyes and shook her head at us.

“I speak the truth, babe.” I raised my beer bottle.

Beck clinked my beer with his glass of water. “That’s it, Ma. Fruit needs to be eaten on its own. My one exception is yoghurt in those fruit bowl creations. So please, no more underhanded undercover operations—no hiding in sauces or salad dressings or whatever else you come up with. Your men have spoken.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for future meals.” Lenore smiled. A smile that told of hushed sunrises and vibrant sunsets, embraces that didn’t need words, bare toes sinking in warm sand.

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