Page 34 of Love & Other Disasters

“Now, now, don’t hog Violet’s boyfriend in here.” Her mom stood at the door. “Let’s all go to the table, so we can talk.”

Why did she assume that he was Violet’s boyfriend? Had she started dating someone, and they believed it was him when he showed up? If Violet were dating someone else, he’d have to compete for her affection.

Violet’s sister tried to lift the full, short-sided gigantic cast iron skillet off the stove.

“Where did you get that thing?” Violet asked.

“It’s Geoff’s,” she said, still struggling to lift the pan from the stove.

“Here, let me get that,” J.P. offered, since her attentive, drugged-up boyfriend had already disappeared into the dining room without a word.

“Why can’t you leave it in here and we’ll dip our plates at the stove,” Violet suggested.

“No, Geoff says it’s a communal experience around the table, eating straight from the pan is tradition.”

Violet responded by opening a cabinet and retrieving plates. Her sister huffed and rolled her eyes, handing him two oven mitts.

J.P. didn’t blame Violet at all, not that they would eat much of the dish, it smelled like the leftovers from a five alarm fire. He took the cast iron catastrophe, and followed the sister into the dining room, where her mom, dad, and Geoff sat around the eight-person table.

The room was large enough to fit the rectangle oak table, chairs, a large sideboard topped with a hutch and not an inch wasted. A seascape painting hung on another wall. Her parents sat with rigid postures and Geoff looked oblivious. He placed the pan on the hot pads in the middle of the table.

Violet passed out the plates.

Geoff stared at the plate for a beat. “A paella is enjoyed together, everyone eating out of the same pan. A communal bonding experience.”

“I’m using a plate, if it’s all the same to you,” Violet said, there was an edge to her voice that he hadn’t heard before. They’d squared up toe to toe on a few occasions now, and this was different. Interesting. Violet didn’t like this man.

“Thank you for carrying the pan, J.P.,” her mom said. “It looks heavy.”

“It’s my pleasure, Mrs. Murphy. Happy to help.”

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