Page 99 of The Art of Almost Losing It
Cabin is an understatement. This is like a luxury lodge. There’s a giant stone fireplace in the great room, with balconies overlooking it.
“Is this a hotel?” I ask softly.
“Isn’t it amazing?! I’m speechless every time I come here.” Claire rushes downstairs and gives me a hug. “I want to hear all about your wedding planning. I’m a little bit of an unpaid amateur wedding planner myself.”
“Weren’t you press-ganged into it?”
Graham scowls.
“He’s in a bad mood,” I tell her in a rush. “I’m the reason we’re late. Had to work.”
“This is why I didn’t go into private equity.” Claire hugs Graham.
“Let me put up some of this food. I have a baked brie that needs to go into the oven.” I follow Claire into the kitchen.
“Graham, why don’t you eat your sandwich? There’s a bottle of scotch in that bag too. I don’t need all of it for the punch. I don’t think you’re going to like this baked-brie dish. It’s got fruit in it, and I know how you feel about sweet stuff.”
“It’s truly the bane of my existence.” Aurora smiles at me and leans over the counter. “He acted like I was poisoning him the first time I gave him ice cream.”
“I don’t think I’d survive summer in NYC without ice cream.” Claire shakes her head.
“It’s easier when you have a penthouse, I guess,” I quip.
I start unpacking the bag, turning on the oven, laying out the stuff to make the punch.
“Wow, you’re so… hostess-y!” his mom marvels.
“I just like food.”
“So do I. Let’s be best friends!” Aurora hugs me. “Also, this is my formal apology. I was not nice at brunch.”
“I was drunk,” I remind her, “so I think we’re even.”
“I’ve truly never seen anyone morning-drink like that. Not even my mom.” Aurora opens a bottle of wine.
“You should meet my granny,” I joke.
“I hope to make her acquaintance. Also, you have to let me finish my apology, because I have a whole speech written out. Graham, drink your scotch and don’t interrupt me. Aren’t I a great mom?”
In my sleep-deprived and kidnapped state, I didn’t register that she has that cool, witchy, alt vibe that I wish I had the chutzpah to pull off.
Aurora leans on the countertop as I glug alcohol into the crystal Tiffany’s punch bowl I brought.
“See, I always wanted to have the house that all the teens in the neighborhood would hang out at. We have a pool and a rec room and games. Except Graham never invited anyone over—ever. Except for you. You’re the first! Ta-da! Congratulations! And I was worried. I was afraid that you’d hate me and never come over again, but you’re here! Graham, this is a big moment for you. Your first friend. Your first sleepover. Your first girlfriend.”
“Lotta pressure.” I grimace. “Graham, hand me that rum.”
Aurora pulls Graham into a hug. “I didn’t want to lose my children to their in-laws.”
“No worries of that from me.” I make a face as I throw the baked-brie dish into the oven. “I already spend too much of my time with my family.”
“I brought some snacks too,” his mom says. “Cheddar and Triscuits.”
Graham peers over her shoulder at the box.
“Oh lord, the expiration date police.” Aurora tries to shield the box.
“It expired a year ago, Mom.”
