He passes me the chocolate we used to eat at this exact same spot, hiding from our mother when we were kids. “Does he want kids and a family like Holden wanted?”
“Hell no!” I pop a piece in my mouth. “He’s a cold, heartless, challenging asshole who lets his guard down only around me.”
“Sounds familiar… I trained you well. The universe needed to find balance again after giving me birth…”
“And after Aaron, Luke was created,” we recite with a grin. That’s what our grandmother used to say about Aaron and me. He was so serious while I was so happy. He took everything to heart and I was so laid-back. He was the yin, I was the yang. We could have been twins.
“So do you want to tell the family tonight?” I ask.
“Yep,” he says, jumping down off the old truck. “The restaurant is closed today. I’ll tell Mom I’m coming with Hailey and Lawson. You rally Sal and Barn.”
“She’s going to be so happy to have us all around.”
“Yeah… let’s hope the kids aren’t bringing their significant others,” he says drily.
“Not a fan of Salomé’s boyfriend and Barnabas’s whatever ?”
“If you ask, it means you haven’t met them yet.”
I chuckle. “I’ll tell them to leave them at the door then.”
“Thanks. You know my hate for dummies. Let’s say those two are a challenge to the human race. It’s seriously shameful,” he says, handing me back the shovel.
I’m still laughing when I go back to work, moving shit around to not smell my own.
Every time we have supper together, it’s a cacophony. My parents, younger siblings, niece, and nephew bicker or joke while Aaron stays silent. I generally just enjoy being there. Tonight is no exception—until Aaron clears his throat. My mom freezes while my dad’s fork stops close to his mouth, his eyebrows raised.
As long as I can remember, my father has had grey or white hair. He turned grey in his early thirties and was white by fifty. But he keeps it long, with a voluptuous beard. He’s too lean to play Santa, but that’s what he looks like. My mother turned grey in the last few years, but she’s still the most beautiful woman I know.
Barnabas and Salomé are eyeing each other, probably wondering what Aaron has to announce.
“Go ahead, brother,” I encourage.
“Jess and I spoke to the kids last night, and we’re divorcing. She’s moving to Las Vegas and has a job there,” Aaron says quickly, probably to be sure he doesn’t monopolize more of the attention than he should.
“Okay.” My mother goes back to her lasagna.
“About time.” My father shoves salad into his mouth.
Aaron shakes his head.
“That’s it?” I say. “When I told you I broke up with Bruce, you cried for twenty minutes and you hadn’t even met the guy. But when Aar says he’s divorcing his wife of twenty years, that’s all you say?” There are seriously a lot of double standards in our family.
“Look at him!” my mother says. “He won’t stay single long, especially now that Alane’s back in town.”
I can practically see Aaron's ears perk up.
“Who’s Alane?” Lawson asks.
“Alaaaaaane,” Barnabas and I tease Aaron, while Salomé sends daggers at us.
When she was six, she hated how Alane monopolized Aaron. I guess she still does.
“She was your dad’s high school sweetheart, whom he dumped like an old sock when he went to culinary school.” I’m still mad he pushed one of my best friends out of town.
After their breakup, she left and never came back. It wasn’t easy then to keep in touch, but I thought she would at least say goodbye or write a letter. The last time my brother spoke to his ex-girlfriend was the last time I heard from my best friend. I left one year later.
“They were together for two years, and he didn’t even sleep with her.” I smile to annoy Aaron.
“You never slept with her?” my dad asks, letting his fork fall onto his plate.
“Me divorcing, no reaction. Me not having slept with Alane, huge reaction. You people are fucking crazy,” Aaron mumbles.
We all laugh, because that’s what we do the most when we’re together. It’s a family hobby to make fun of Aaron, who takes the teasing until we take it too far and he leaves the table.
The doorbell chimes, and we all look at each other.
“Please Lord, tell me it’s not the two dumbasses these two are dating,” my father says, pointing at Barn and Sal.
“I sure hope not.” My mother gets up and goes to the door. All we hear is a shriek. “Is that a joke? Are you here for a TV show? Why are you here?”
“Mom, who is it?” I ask with more concern than usual about the sanity of my mother.
Ryan, Ian, and Dex appear, all in jeans and T-shirts. If Ryan and Ian seem happy to be here, Dex looks like someone who has seen a zombie eating a brain. I’m not sure if he’s ready to puke or run away.
“Ryan Marley in my house! That is something, son!”
“What? Dad, how do you know about Ry?” I ask, surprised. “You hate movies and television. Do you even know who he is?” I point at Ian.
“Am I supposed to know you?” my father says to Ian.
Ian shrugs. ”Yeah, well…”
“How can you not know Ian Porter?” my mom interrupts. “He’s the one Julie Legg got tattooed for at Luke’s place. Really disappointing, Ridge.” She shakes her head.
“So how do you know Ry?” I ask my dad.
My dad grunts. “Hockey. He’s the only actor in the whole of Hollywood who knows what he’s talking about. Sometimes he goes on ESPN.”
If I didn’t know better, I would say my dad is fan struck right now.
“I can’t believe Ryan Marley and Ian Porter, two of the most beautiful specimens on Earth, are in my dining room right now!” My mother might be hyperventilating.
“Mom, calm down,” I say.
“‘Calm down’? Luke! You could have told us they were coming,” Salomé says, blushing.
“I didn’t know my friends were stopping by. I thought they were in LA.”
“Friends? Those three handsome men are your friends?” Hailey adds.
Aaron snarls at his seventeen-year-old daughter’s reaction.
“Very handsome, and married or close to being, yes, ladies,” I say.
“And who are you?” my dad asks Dex.
He’s fidgeting between the others and seems incredibly uncomfortable. “Dex.”
“Should I know you?”
“No, sir.”
“Dex as in Dexter?” my mother inquires. She’s a little crazy about names and keeps a notebook with names she likes for her future grandchildren. She’s the one who proposed Hailey and Lawson. Hailey because of One Tree Hill, whatever that is, and Lawson because it was what they almost named Barnabas.
“Dextyn,” Dex says with an embarrassed smile I would love to kiss away.
“For God’s sake! Did your parents want you to become a snotty lawyer or did they hate you?”
“Mooom,” I warn.