Page 16 of How (Not) to Conjure a Boyfriend
“I’m Catina.” The girl throws her hand up like it’s roll call, with a big smile showing perfect white teeth between dimples that redden her brown cheeks.
“Huh? So what’s that mean? He don’t eat meat?” Gramps asks, not an ounce of sarcasm in his voice.
I bite my lips to keep from bursting into laughter. The girl is visibly holding back too, as well as Jeffrey. Eliza’s lips are turned inward as she breathes in a deeply. The smell of sweet potatoes is almost too much now. Overriding the moment for just a split second. I’m hungry.
“Moving on.” Eliza ignores the question while Gramps peers around the room in obvious confusion. I, for one, am not answering that question. “This is Gramps’s wife, Kristi, grand—”
“You can call me Kiki,” Grandmother interrupts, her voice high and proper like her meticulously styled dyed-blonde hair. She gives off very esteemed matriarchal vibes.
“Or Grandma,” Eliza whispers. I nod at Kiki, yeah, probably Grandma for me.
Eliza moves on to the oldest person in the room. She’s seated in a comfy-looking black armchair by a floor-to-ceiling glass pane. There’s something interesting in her blue eyes, something mischievous. Maybe it’s her big drooping smile, or the way she bobs back and forth, or maybe it’s the piece of fabric looped about her long wavy gray hair. She screams eccentric, or maybe it’s just fun. “This is Gran. She’s Mary-Anne’s mom, Hayden’s grandmother.”
“Call me Gran, cutie!” she trills, repeating exactly what Eliza already said. I smile and nod, again trying not to laugh. She sounds like she might have been a smoker back in her day but managed to bypass its ills. “Or if you like, you can call me Super Old Gran like Hayden and Zachary.”
“S-super old?” I sputter. And Zachary? Is that Hayden’s brother? The one who wouldn’t come into the shop?
“That’s Randall’s fault.” Mrs. Marcus comes walking into the room, rubbing her hands on a small kitchen towel. The apron she’s wearing sashays gracefully around her hips as she steps next to her husband.
“I like it,” Gran croaks. “It’s cute.”
“And this is Mary-Anne, Hayden’s mom.” Eliza holds out her hand toward Mrs. Marcus.
Honestly, I think I’m still going with Mr. and Mrs. Marcus, but at least now I’ll know who they’re talking about.
“And I’m Holly!” The little blonde girl cuddled up next to Mr. Marcus waves frantically at me.
“Hayden’s sister.” Eliza giggles as I wave back and smile. “Thought you might already know them.”
She can’t be more than twelve or thirteen. I’ve always wanted a little sister or little brother. I’m already jealous.
“That’s everyone except Zachary.” Mrs. Marcus looks to Eliza and then me. “He’s on his way back from the hospital right now.”
“It’s wonderful to meet you all…again?” I question, hoping it might break some of the tension in my chest.
There are a few grunts and laughs while Eliza directs me around the sofa. “It helps to put names with faces. I’m sure Hayden’s mentioned at least a few of us.”
That’d be a great assumptionifI were actually his enbyfriend. I fight the impulse to puff and lower my head. Instead I nod and smile. Looks like I’m going to be doing a lot of that tonight. I don’t want to say, nah, he never mentioned any of y’all. It’d be easiest, plus the truth, but it feels cheap and mean. So instead I deflect.
“Where would you like me to put these?” I hold up the plate of brownies.
Mrs. Marcus stands straighter. “Oh! You really didn’t need to bring anything.”
Eliza nudges my arm and the tiniest of amused grins slips on my face. “It was no trouble. I promise. I love to cook.”
“Now it makes sense.” Mr. Marcus, Randall, laughs to himself. “Hayden would fall for a cook.”
“I guess that’s all right then.” Mrs. Marcus laughs at him and walks over to take the plate from me. “I’ll take them to the kitchen. You sit down. Foodisready,butwe’re waiting for Zachary.”
“Have a seat. Get comfy.” Mr. Marcus pats an empty spot on the smoke-gray sofa next to theirs.
There is so much room in here. Oddly, somehow, it doesn’t feel empty with all the empty space, just open and clean.Veryclean. I take a seat. The stiff but comfortable leather gives under me and cradles my back.
“Thank you for having me.” I bow my head. “Y’all have such a beautiful place.”
I cross one leg over the other with my hands clasped on my knee, and I’m suddenly feeling overdressed. Everyone else is in flannels and jeans or something casual, except Kiki, who’s sporting a fitted white long-sleeved shirt with frills down the chest. Maybe I should have asked what the dress code was going to be. I ended up in black skinny jeans held up by a fake Valentino belt with its fancy golden buckle, and then my favorite black sleeveless turtleneck along with a set of black arm socks. My bare shoulders are freezing, but I look cute so that’s what matters. Plus, I need to make a good first impression here.
“Thank you.” Mr. Marcus nods and settles back on the couch. “And all thanks to the divorcees and—”
