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It’s both weird and completely easy being back at Bea’s place.
The few times I’ve seen her over the years have all been out and about—at dinners with Jack or seeing her at games of his I caught—but I haven’t been back here since I was twenty-two years old and on the cusp of being drafted into the NHL. Before that, I was in and out of her house constantly for the entire decade prior; I think I spent more time over here than at my own house. So it actually feels like coming home, sitting in her dining room as she sets out different food she’s made.
“Now, I’ve got brownies in the oven,” she tells the three of us. “I figure we can eat them with some ice cream after dinner.”
Lila is sitting right next to me, her smile easy and frequent and hard not to return. Jack is on the other side of the table, already reaching for a roll with his good hand, only for Bea to smack it away.
“You wait until I get everything set out, heathen.”
Jack pouts. “Dude, I’m injured.”
“Well, you’re about to be even more injured if you don’t hold your horses.” She frowns in his direction. “And I’m not your ‘dude.’ ”
“Yeah, fine,” Jack grumbles under his breath.
“Ian? You want some bread?”
“Sure, Bea,” I say.
Jack makes an indignant sound. “Hey!”
“You shut up over there,” she tsks. “He didn’t reach.”
Lila giggles softly, and Jack cuts his eyes at her, sticking out his tongue. It’s so similar to a night from my teen years that I feel a wave of nostalgia wash over that unravels some of the tension I’ve been carrying. It makes me wish I’d come for a visit long before tonight.
We all fill our plates and settle into comfortable conversation, but I’m hyperaware of the way Lila’s elbow brushes against my arm every so often. The way she smirks at me when I drop a bite of peas back onto my plate, a playful glint in her eye. Hell, I’m just aware of her, period. That’s definitely different from the last time I was here.
“So,” Bea says after the catching-up dies down, pointing her fork between the two of us. “What’s this Jack tells me about the two of you acting like you’re all lovey-dovey for the masses?”
I almost choke on my roll. Lila pats my back, clucking her tongue. “What the hell, Jack?”
“What?” Jack tries to look innocent with a mouthful of potatoes. “Didn’t know it was a secret.”
“It’s not,” I say, finally, managing to swallow my bite down. “It’s nothing, Bea. Just something our PR teams cooked up.”
The words feel heavy on my tongue. Not like a lie, per se, because it absolutely is pretend, but something about dismissing it still doesn’t sit quite right. I don’t really have time to assess those feelings, though, since Bea isn’t done.
“Always hoped you two would get married,” she says offhandedly, like it’s not the equivalent of dropping an atom bomb into the conversation. “Then I could have all of you as my kids.”
“Aunt Bea,” Lila hisses, her face flushing. “Seriously?”
Bea cocks an eyebrow. “What? An old woman can dream, can’t she?” She tilts her chin in my direction. “That one you married was nice though. How is she?”
“Mei’s fine,” I tell her. “She just got remarried. They’re off on their honeymoon right now.”
“Didn’t she marry a woman?” Bea’s nose wrinkles. “What did you do to her that she didn’t want men anymore?”
“Aunt Bea,” Lila repeats on a choked groan. “Oh my God.”
“She’s bisexual,” I laugh. “Think she always leaned more toward women though.”
Bea considers this, her expression thoughtful. “I imagine they’re softer. Guess I can’t blame her.”
“I would like to very much not explore this conversation,” Jack chimes in.
“So you two gonna have to kiss and stuff on camera?” Bea barrels on.
My mouth falls open, and I look to Lila for help; she seems just as thrown. The image of Lila’s soft, pink mouth on mine thunders through my thoughts, making itself known, and it should be a curious thing, I think. It should be nothing more than a passing oddity that is just a result of Bea putting it there, but the effect it has on me…My pulse picks up, my ears heat, and the breath I’d been about to release gets caught in my throat, like my body can’t help but hold it. It’s definitely not a passing oddity. Not with the way my thoughts are practically tattooing it onto my brain.
