Max burst out laughing.
I cried, “Mother!”
Mom turned wide eyes to me. “You can!”
I looked to the ceiling and called, “God? Can I have a time machine? Please. I just want to go back thirty-five years, crawl out of my pram, get lost in the wilds and be raised by stray dogs.”
Mom leaned back and said to Max, “She can also be dramatic.” She turned back to whatever she was doing at the counter and murmured, “Though, it’s good, she’s always had an excellent imagination.”
I handed Max his mug and took Steve’s coffee to him, saying, “Mom, Max likes me, okay? You don’t have to convince him seeing as I’m standing in his kitchen in his shirt.”
“All right,” Mom snapped and looked back at Max. “She can get testy too.”
I closed my eyes and dropped my head back. I stood there in supplication for half a second before an arm hooked at my waist and my back was up against Max’s front.
“Grab your coffee, Duchess and let your Mom be,” Max ordered in my ear.
I leaned forward and grabbed my coffee, muttering, “Whatever.” Then I looked at Mom and found I couldn’t let her be so I asked, “What are you doing, anyway?”
“I’m in the mood to concoct something,” Mom answered and my entire body got tense.
“Mom –” I started and Steve was with me for he said in a low, warning tone, “Nellie, not sure that’s a good idea.”
“My concoctions are the best,” Mom declared in Steve’s direction.
“Your concoctions are hit and miss. Mostly miss,” I told her.
Mom whirled on me, aghast. “You loved my blueberry, rhubarb soufflé.”
“Mom, I lied. It tasted a lot like vomit.”
Max’s body started shaking against mine but I was forced to ignore it when Mom emitted an outraged gasp.
“It did not taste like vomit!”
“Please, just let me make toast.”
Mom, if it could be believed, was even more aghast and she cried, “What will Max think, he gets toast?”
“It’s his house, Mom, you’re the guest,” I reminded her.
“I’m the Mom in any circumstances and children don’t get toast. Ever.”
“She’s got you there, Duchess,” Max whispered.
I twisted and looked up at Max. “You’re not a child, Max.”
“As long’s we’re alive, you’re always children, doll,” Steve put in and I looked at Steve and my shoulders slumped.
But I didn’t give in gracefully and therefore mumbled, “Ganged up on.”
“Deal with it, sweetie,” Mom muttered, turned to the plethora of foodstuffs on the counter and went on, hands up, wiggling her fingers, “Now, I’m thinking… something strawberry.”
I decided to take a sip of coffee and let events unfold without my participation.
It was then I realized I was leaning against Max and he still had his arm around my waist. It wasn’t weird or uncomfortable. In fact it felt natural and entirely comfortable. It was also then I realized I liked this.
“Oh my God!” Mom suddenly shouted, I jumped and looked at her to see she was holding up the new creamer I bought Max. “This is divine, Max. You have such good taste.”