Kerry

“I’m guessing that was my son?”

I’m still staring at the river with my phone pressed against my face and a ditzy smile when Carmella walks into the kitchen behind me.

“Yes, it was,” I tell her as I turn around.

After seeing Damian off, I excused myself to go have a shower and get dressed. I left Bella in charge of the kitchen and her family, and I took my time getting ready. I’d just walked into the kitchen to get another coffee when he called.

“Did you want another coffee?” I pick up the pot and motion at the cup in her hand.

“No. Two is my limit, or I’ll be bouncing off the walls. Trust me,” she winks at me. “I’m told it’s not a pretty sight.” She rinses her cup and puts it in the dishwasher while I doctor up my coffee. “I could see it, you know?”

“Sorry?” I look at her, a bit confused.

“Mi hijo—I could tell it was him on the phone from the look on your face.” She tilts her head to the side as she looks me up and down. “You love him.”

Oh dear.

“I...well...we’ve only known each other for a little over a month...” I stammer, in full-fledged panic mode.

“Bella tells me you met years ago.”

“Well, that’s technically true...but we never really talked.”

“Why? Did you not like my son?”

Jesus. The woman is like a terrier. A very tall, very stern-looking, angry terrier. This is one of those damned if you do, damned if you don’t situations I try to avoid like the plague. Hoping for a last-minute rescue, I look in the direction of the living room, where the sisters seem deep in conversation. No help there.

“Mrs. Gomez...Carmella,” I quickly correct when she gives her head a sharp shake. “I liked your son just fine.” That’s a lie. I thought he was an asshole. “I really like him now. I care for him. A lot.” I watch for a reaction but her face stays stoic. “At the time I first met Damian, I was actually married. Not happily. My ex-husband...let’s just say he wasn’t a very nice or forward-thinking man.” I forge ahead as I watch a range of different emotions expressed on her face. I just can’t tell what they are exactly. “I’ve been divorced about two years.”

“Good,” she says after a long pause that had me sweating buckets. “Kids?”

Damn. Going straight for the jugular.

“No.” My voice sounds a little funny with the lump stuck in my throat, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

“What—you don’t like kids?” Her eyes squint, and I feel the bottom fall out of my stomach. This is killing the euphoric mood Damian left me in.

“I couldn’t have them. I mean,” I jump in when I see shock on her face. “I thought I couldn’t have them. We tried, Greg and I. That’s my ex-husband’s name,” I quickly explain. “We never got pregnant. He didn’t want fertility treatments and made me think there was something wrong with me. Except I found out in our divorce he’d had a vasectomy before we were even married. He just never told me.”

“Hijo de puta!” Her voice is loud. So loud, it has the sisters come running.

“Ma! What the hell?” Bella comes storming into the kitchen, immediately spotting my face and turns to tear into her mother. “What did you say to her, Mama? Look—” she points at me. “You almost made her cry. Damian’s gonna be pissed when I tell him.” Without even stopping, she’s got her phone in her hand.

“Wait!” I call out, grabbing the hand with the phone. “Bella, your mother was just asking some questions. She’s concerned about her son. There’s nothing wrong with that.” I don’t mention it felt more like the Spanish Inquisition. “I was telling her about Greg.” Bella knows the story. In fact, Bella knows just about everything there is to know about me. As I do about her. We’ve spent enough time together. Her face softens and she gives me a little smile.

“Who’s Greg?” Chrissy asks, looking from one to the other.

“Her husband,” Carmella blurts out.

“Ex! Sorry,” I apologize for yelling. “But I really don’t want everyone to get the wrong idea. He is my ex.”

For fear I will forever be explaining things, I decide to make a fresh pot of coffee and tell them what they need to know all at once. It takes me close to two hours with constant interruptions. Something the women in this family all seem to do. It’s quite funny actually, now that I know to expect it. They throw out random thoughts or words assuming that’s what you mean, right in the middle of what you’re saying. Mostly they’re wrong, and you end up spending more time correcting them than it would’ve taken them to let you finish your thought in the first place. It does get tiring after a while.

“So you can have babies?”

I burst out laughing. The woman is relentless. I ignore the sharp Ma! coming from all directions and turn to Carmella. “I guess I could if I wanted to. And although I might well be a bit too old, the equipment is all there. But...” I stop Carmella as she opens her mouth. “That is something to be discussed between a woman and a man—not a woman, a man, and his mother.”

Hoots and whistles come from the Gomez girls, but Mama isn’t laughing.

“My Damian wants babies.”

“All right,” Chrissy grabs her mother by the arm and starts dragging her out of the kitchen. “That’s enough, Ma. It’s none of your business and if Damian knew you were trying to interfere, he’d be all over you. Now let’s go get some fucking food, already!”

She pulls her mother straight to the door, completely ignoring her barked, “Language!”

“Don’t worry,” Bella says, as she puts her arm around my waist. “I already told the girls a little about your situation. Enough for them to know that you and I are going to stay here and they’ll get groceries without us.”

“You don’t have to stay,” I try to assure her.

“Oh yes, I do,” she says, turning to face me. “There’s a reason I’m moving to Durango, aside from my job. More than an hour or two at a time and my mother has me reaching for the rat poison...for me!”

-

WHEN THE FAMILY COMES back two hours later, it looks like they’ve not only bought enough supplies to feed an army battalion, but each comes carrying in bags from Target. 

“Bella, help me get those damn boxes out of the van!” Fran yells from the front door. I follow behind Bella as we navigate through what has to be half the store inventory in the familiar white and red bags. Carmella has already taken over the kitchen, barking orders at Chrissy, and I’m glad to escape before I get hit in the cross fire.

Fran is standing at the back of the van by the open gate, and I’m shocked at the number of boxes stacked in the back.

“Holy crap. Where are we gonna put all those?” I blurt out. “There’s no room in the garage.” The two-car garage has been converted into two spaces; one half serves as a home gym, a place I’ve learned is sacred to Damian, since he goes in there regularly to work off frustration of any kind. The other half is jam-packed with a table saw, building materials, camping gear, golf clubs, fishing poles, riding lawnmower, snowblower, and other assorted flotsam—you name it, it’s there.

“Good question,” Bella says, surveying her belongings. “Laundry room?”

With the three of us hauling, it doesn’t take that long to transfer the boxes into the small room off the kitchen. Twelve good-sized boxes are now stacked on the appliances and covering the floor. Good thing I just did laundry the other day, because there’s no way we can get to the damn washer like this. I quickly close the door.

“Are you getting a place of your own soon?” Bella’s mother pins her with a sharp glare, her hands in a large metal bowl I’m sure wasn’t here before, kneading what looks to be some kind of bread dough. “You know three’s a crowd, right?”

“I’m looking, Ma.” Bella does the eye roll thing as she shoves Fran to the side and helps unpack the vast collection of Target bags.

“Kerry, you know how to clean ribs?” I smile at the dramatic brow wipe Bella performs as Carmella’s attention shifts to me.

“I do,” I tell her with more confidence than I feel. The woman has me seriously doubt any skills I thought I had.

“Good. Get on it.” She tilts her head to the four full racks of ribs stacked on the counter. “Those foil trays are for the ribs. Two racks per tray.”

I grab a cutting board, a paring knife, and go to work, carefully slicing the tough membrane covering the back of the ribs and using my fingers to pull it off. Before long, Fran and Bella have the dining room stacked with kitchenware, bath towels, sheet sets, four new pillows, a box of dinner plates, twelve soap dispensers, and a stack of boxer shorts. I can’t help it, I start laughing and once I start, I can’t stop. Soon Bella and her sisters join in when they see me looking at the collection on the table.

“What?” Carmella looks from one to the other. “His shorts are almost threadbare.” That has us laughing even harder.

“Mama, he’s forty-four,” Bella points out. “I’m sure he can buy his own underwear. And he has a linen closet stacked with towels.”

Her mother huffs and shrugs her shoulders. “You can never have enough towels.”

Carmella has us working like a well-oiled machine and in no time, we have bread dough rising, potatoes boiling for potato salad, vegetables cleaned and chopped, ready to go into the oven to roast last minute. The ribs are in there now on two racks, slow-cooking in a marinade she made that smells fabulous. Fran has pulled out a massive bottle of white wine and is pouring us all a generous serving in the new, unbreakable wineglasses. Too risky to use real glass on the deck, Carmella explains.

We take our glasses outside while we wait for the potatoes to cook. It’s nice. Despite the hectic day, Carmella’s inappropriately invasive ways, the family’s constant bickering, and my complete lack of control over any of it—it was very nice. This is what family’s supposed to be like. Warm, contentious, tolerant, dysfunctional and above all, loving. Not something I had growing up.

“You have a house of your own?” Carmella asks, drawing my eyes from the water I know flows right to Damian.

“I rent a place for now. I’m still looking for a house.” I smile at her and she smiles back. It looks innocent, until...

“What’s wrong with this house? Bella needs a place, she can rent your house. You just stay here. It’s a beautiful house.”

“Ma!”

DAMIAN

The moment I walk in the door, the familiar smells of my mother’s cooking assault me. Automatically, my stomach starts growling. Other than breakfast, I’ve not had a thing to eat and I’m starving.

All the way home, I was mulling over the case, but the moment I hit the top of the hill, seeing the river valley below with my house nestled on the shore, it all drained away. Home—made all the more so because of who is there waiting for me.

No one is in the kitchen, but I can hear them outside. Walking up to the sliding door, I just catch Mama telling Kerry to move in with me, and I stop in my tracks as one of my sisters scolds Ma.

I know my mother loves me to distraction, as she does all her kids, but she loves with the finesse of a drill sergeant. Always convinced she knows best how to make her kids happy. She rarely does, but I can’t deny the thought of Kerry here permanently does make me happy. And having Bella take over Kerry’s lease would be a good solution all around. Seems like all this estrogen invading my life again is seriously debilitating the straight-lined, logical, cautious parts of my brain I’d painstakingly developed after leaving home.

I slide open the door and step on the deck, moving behind Kerry’s chair. She has her head tilted back and a smile on her face. Relief at seeing her relaxed, and the clear invitation on her gorgeous mouth, has me bend down and kiss her with everything I feel. I don’t give a damn my sisters or Mom are getting an eyeful. This is my house—my woman.

-

DINNER IS A ROWDY AFFAIR.

After I get over the pile of unnecessary crap my mother bought me, and shake off the endless ribbing by my sisters over the fact my mother insists on buying me underwear at every opportunity, I really enjoy the evening. Better yet, so does Kerry, who seems to have found her place with my sisters and is starting to find her ground with my mom.

As for Mama, she may not express it in words, or even in action, but she really likes Kerry. It’s in the little glances from under her eyelashes as she observes Kerry interact with the girls. The soft tilt to her lips when she catches Kerry watching me with warm eyes. She likes her—for me.

Good. I like her for me, too.

“Night, Ma,” I tell her when she announces she’s going to bed. She’ll be sharing the room with Bella, while Fran and Chrissy are taking the spare bedroom. The girls actually worked it out that way, and I’m grateful. With a bathroom connecting the master and the spare, I don’t even want to think about having my mom in there. “Thanks for dinner. It was very good.” She smiles at me and simply nods.

“Breakfast tomorrow is yours, Kerry,” she announces from the doorway. “I bought some more bananas and cream cheese. And I picked up some chocolate syrup.”

I turn to Kerry, who is chuckling at my mother’s retreating back before she turns her smiling eyes to me. “Your mother is something else. I think she just gave me a compliment and a way to improve my recipe at the same time.”

“Our mother is demanding of the people she cares about but never more demanding than she is of herself,” Bella points out, very astutely.

“And that’s the truth,” Fran confirms with a smile.

Ten minutes later, Kerry gets up and bends down, her hands bracing my neck. “I’m heading up.”

“Right behind you,” I mumble with her mouth pressed against mine. I watch her head inside before turning back to my sisters, who all wear smirks without exception.

“You know,” Fran speaks up. “I never thought I’d see the day, but I’m happy for you, brother. She’s smart, she’s independent, and she seems to be getting a handle on Ma. I’m gonna kick your ass if you fuck this up,” she finishes, folding her arms determinedly over her chest.

“I second that,” Chrissy adds.

“Me three,” comes from Bella.

“And on that note,” I announce as I push out of my chair, wisely removing myself from the line of fire. “I’ll take kitchen duty and hit the sack.”

The ten minutes it takes me to clean the last of the dishes flies by as I listen to my sisters’ quiet voices and occasional laughs coming from outside. As much as the lot of them, save perhaps Bella, get on my nerves after a while, it feels good to have them all here.

By the time I make it upstairs, Kerry is already in bed. As many nights before, I strip in the bathroom, toss my clothes in the hamper and join her in bed, where her body instinctively snuggles against mine. My mind instantly goes to my earlier thoughts. I’ve come to terms with the fact I’ve fallen for this woman. Despite believing most of my adult life I was doing fine on my own, the thought of not being able to come home to her at night has already become something I dread. I know without a doubt she will think it too soon. She’s protective of her independence.

“I can hear you, you know,” her sleepy voice startles me. She pushes up off my chest and lifts her heavy-lidded eyes to me. “The wheels are loud in there.” She taps my forehead with her fingers. “Everything okay at work? I didn’t even ask you after this morning.”

“Mostly everyone’s frustration at the lack of progress. No tag on Willoughs yet. Other cases popping up, requiring attention, and leads drying up without other ones to investigate. Keith’s hope of finding something on the video feed from the lab that might help us figure out what happened to the missing shipment came up empty, too. These things tend to wear on patience, and mine ran pretty short this morning, too. Talking to you helped.”

I tuck her head under my chin and breathe in her scent. She presses her face in my chest, and her limbs curl around me in a full body hug.

“Good. I’m glad,” she softly replies.

“I’m sorry I left you here to fend for yourself. My family, they—”

“Shhh,” she hushes me. “Your family is great. You’re very lucky. It just took me a minute to get used to the intensity, that’s all. I don’t have siblings, and my parents... Well, my mom is sweet, but she’s never understood my need to venture out on my own. She’s built her life about caring for her husband. And my dad? He works, comes home, reads his paper, and starts drinking until it’s time to go to bed. The next day is just the same. I don’t think they even noticed when I moved out. I don’t even bother going home for holidays anymore. Just the occasional phone call.”

“I’m sorry,” I say again. Bella would be proud of me, as those words seem to be rolling almost effortlessly from my lips now. I am, though. I can’t imagine growing up in a place where you’re not noticed. Puts growing up in a house where everyone’s in your business in a whole new perspective.

“Don’t be,” she says. “I’m just telling you how it was for me, to explain my momentary shell shock when confronted with your family. I adore them, though.” She lifts her head again to look at me. “Your mom, too.”

I chuckle at that, burying my nose in her neck. “I’m glad. I hope she didn’t scare you with the underwear. I really do buy my own, you know. I just can’t seem to break her of the habit.”

I feel her body shake with suppressed laughter. “She brought home half of Target,” she snickers.

“I know,” I groan. “Worst part is, she does this every time.”

I can feel her yawn against me. “Get some sleep, baby.”

“Okay. You, too, honey. Don’t think too much,” she mumbles.

“I promise I’ll just be thinking about how much I like you here.”

“In your bed?”

“In my bed, in my house, on my river...In my life.”