Cherish & Blessed (8 page)

As she stormed away from the table, Blake shot Evan an apologetic look.

“So hey, everything looks great,” Matt said, clearly exasperated, as he sat down, already reaching for the bottle of wine closest to him.

“Delicious!” Helena added, all but thrusting her glass under the stream of wine Matt was pouring.

“Smells amazing.” Shane nodded, his handsome face stuck in a polite but horrified rictus. Evan pitied him; he assumed Shane was wishing to be in Florida, with Helena’s mother grilling him about his intentions.

From upstairs came the distant sounds of loud conversation, followed by two slammed doors, then a clatter of steps down the staircase. Evan tried to smile at Elizabeth, who was hiding behind her hair.

Cornelia appeared first, red cheeked, her hair no longer perfectly arranged. She sat down with a
thump.

Matt filled her glass without comment.

Kent and Miranda slunk in next, looking anywhere but at the people at the table—and certainly not at each other. They sat down, with Kent closest to Matt and Miranda tucked between her boyfriend and Shane.

No one said a word.

“Someone should really say grace,” Katie said, so painfully dry that Evan had to stifle a laugh.

Matt didn’t bother.

“Kathleen, that should probably be you,” Evan chided, winking at his second born to make sure she knew he wasn’t mad.

“Righto.”

Everyone bowed their heads and clasped hands in the least religious display Evan had ever seen.

“Um… okay. Thanks to everyone that brought dinner to this table, and for family and friends, and being grateful for the people we love,” Katie said sweetly. “Even when they make us crazy.”

Matt coughed.

“Amen.”

“Amen,” everyone else said with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

Evan sneaked a look down the table at Miranda, but she wouldn’t turn her head.

And the platters began to make their way around the oval.

Polite, murmured conversation and the sounds of chewing, clinking, and clanging filled the room. Evan got up twice to refill bowls and platters, and Matt broke out three more bottles of wine. They shared a dozen or so lingering looks down the table at each other, each one progressively more desperate.

When Evan checked the clock and saw it was only six, he legitimately wanted to burst into tears.

“That was delicious,” Blake said, clearing his throat in Evan’s direction. “My compliments.”

“We used a fair amount of catering, but… thanks.” Evan tried to match the other man’s smile; he looked as nervous and anxious as Evan felt.

“Regardless. It was kind of you to host us.” Blake seemed to be gearing up for something. At his side, Cornelia didn’t look all that thrilled, and a quick glance at Kent relayed the same emotion. Maybe Blake was the only one who felt the need to be polite at this point.

“My pleasure.” Evan looked down the table at Matt and smiled. “Our pleasure.”

Miranda made a sound—something between a scoff and a sigh—and Evan’s blood pressure went through the roof yet again, but he didn’t react. No. Just took a sip of water and rearranged his napkin a few times.

A chair scraped, and Evan was surprised to see Kent standing up, his face pink and his mouth in a tight line.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he said, his voice tight. He left the table, back ramrod straight and shoulders bunched.

Cornelia was frowning, Blake was frowning, and Miranda’s face—devoid of color—raised Evan’s sympathies once again.

“You know what? I could use some air.” Matt pushed his chair back, smiling genially.

Blake nodded. “Me too.”

“I could too, but something tells me I’m loading the dishwasher,” Katie mumbled.

Shane leaned forward to shoot her a wink. “In my house the people who load the dishwasher get first crack at dessert. Wanna adopt that tradition?”

“Yes!” Danny was gathering plates a second later.

In a flurry of activity, the table was cleared, and Matt and Blake had disappeared out the front door, most likely in search of Kent. Miranda hovered near the doorway, clearly at a loss for what to do. And Evan watched Katie glaring a hole in her sister’s head.

“Ease up,” he said quietly as they leaned over the sink.

“No.” Katie sighed as she scraped off a plate into the disposal. “She’s ruining the holiday. Again. She’s making that poor skinny boy so upset. And I’m sick of it.”

“She’s… she’s just still missing Mom….” Evan couldn’t help but stand up for Miranda. He couldn’t abandon her, even now.

“Really? Seriously? Me too.” Katie slammed the plate on the counter. “All the time. But you know what? I don’t feel the need to make everyone else feel like shit.”

The whispers and plate slamming caught Cornelia’s attention, which was exactly what Evan didn’t want. He put his arm around Katie’s shoulder and squeezed.

“Relax. Please?”

Katie let out a frustrated sigh. “Right. I’m the good one. I’m not supposed to get pissed.”

She said it without heat, without malice, just a heavy dose of reality.

“You can be pissed all you want. I’m just trying to get through dessert without Cornelia calling Social Services on me,” Evan tried to joke.

“They think we’re awful and crazy, don’t they?”

“Yeah. I was worried about the gay thing. I totally forgot the emotionally constipated and explosive drama stuff.”

“We should come with a warning label, Dad.”

Helena supervised the rest of the cleanup, and Shane pulled Cornelia into conversation after conversation. Evan owed him at least a kidney by the time they got everything put away and the coffee started.

“If you ever need anything—internal organ, a getaway car—seriously, I’m there for you,” Evan murmured to Shane as they reentered the dining room.

The younger man snorted. “Aw come on—this is fun. It’s also ending up in my next play, so… forewarned.”

“God, at least make me have more hair and more patience.”

“Deal.”

“Excuse me, Evan?”

He turned to find Cornelia, arms folded over her chest.

“Can I get you something?” he asked, still holding on to his politeness.

“Actually I’d like to speak with you for a moment in private.”

It was a summoning, and Shane whistled as he headed in the opposite direction.

Lucky.

Evan turned on his heel, following Cornelia into the kitchen. He knew there she might be pissed about any number of things, from the drama to the host of surprises. He started crafting apologies as soon as they stepped into the room.

“Evan, I just wanted to say I appreciate you hosting us for Thanksgiving, but I’m just… I’m not sure I feel supportive of Kent and Miranda’s relationship.” Her words were a rush. He could hear the anger and stress fueling each syllable.

He nodded, the urge to defend his daughter automatic. “They’re young and—”

“It was nothing to do with age. Blake and I were married at nineteen.” She frowned. “I just don’t think Miranda is the sort of person I want my son associating with.”

Evan’s mood soured from
apologetic
to
excuse me?
and he quickly matched Cornelia’s expression. “She has some issues with her mother’s death—that’s not really a character defect.” His tone could cut concrete.

“No, it’s not. But it is being used as a weapon with my son a pawn in her little game. I’m not blind, Evan. And I’m not stupid. She set us up by not saying anything about you living with another man. She was assuming we were homophobes, and that is just… insulting.” Her face turned red, her eyes glassy with tears. “She is using Kent as revenge and… and… you know, we’ve heard nothing but good things from him for months. He’s crazy about her.”

Evan sighed. “I’m sorry for Miranda’s behavior, and I understand your frustration.”

“You do? How nice. Do you also understand that our values are very different than yours?”

That took him aback.

“What are you talking about?”

“We are very antigun in our household, and to be staying here without being told in advance….”

That blindsided him. Evan couldn’t wrap his mind around what she was saying for a moment. “Told what? That we have guns in the house? I’m a policeman. Matt and I are very comfortable with firearms and storing them safely.” Evan’s hackles were up now.

“I’m supposed to take your word for it? Everything about this visit has been misrepresented by your daughter.” Cornelia’s voice hit a higher pitch.

“You came here without knowing anything about us—how is that my fault? Pick up the damn phone if you’re so particular about the kind of people you spend time with,” Evan snapped. “It’s not my responsibility.”

That brought a nasty expression to Cornelia’s face. “No, your responsibility is raising a child with the right values and morals—I’m surprised she hasn’t announced she’s pregnant yet.”

The first thought to flash through Evan’s head was
Lady, get the fuck out of my house
, but self-control prevailed. Barely.

“You don’t know my daughter, and you don’t know me, so kindly refrain from making judgments like that,” he managed to get out. “And please feel free to get your bags and find a gunless hotel.”

Evan turned on his heel, heading for the back door because there was no way he could face anyone at this moment. The sliding door thumped behind him as he walked onto the deck.

Fury ate through his stomach. He tightened his hands into fists, pacing in wild circles as fallen leaves crunched under his feet.

The nerve. The fucking nerve. He needed to find Miranda and get control back, but for the moment, he wasn’t going near anybody.

“S
OOOO
,” M
ATT
said as he and Blake walked down the front steps. “Fun family times. All we need is someone else to announce they’re gay and then a drunken fistfight, and I think we qualify for a reality show.”

Blake laughed, running both hands through his hair. Matt figured he was a good approximation of what Kent would look like in his forties, once he gained about forty pounds and spent some time in the sun. “I’m not really prepared for stuff like this. It’s been just the three of us for years, and this is….”

“Chaos. Sorry. We really should come with a warning label.” Matt tucked his hands in his pockets, turning left as they hit the sidewalk. About three houses down, he spotted Kent, who was walking slowly with the occasional kick to an imaginary rock.

“No, no. I understand. Well, I think I understand.” Blake shrugged. “I take it Miranda and Evan don’t always get along.”

“Polite understatement. I like that.” Matt sighed. “They’re a lot alike. Same exact fighting styles. It’s like an emotional cockfight most of the time. Plus, you know, Miranda doesn’t exactly love me being around.” It was a reality he wasn’t particularly fond of, but he also wasn’t a stupid man. He knew Miranda had never warmed to him like the other three had. He knew about the resentment and the anger. He knew how much she missed Sherri.

And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about any of it.

“Ah. The other kids….”

“What can I say—natural charm and bribery worked really well with them.” He shrugged. “Miranda misses her mom, and I’m a constant living reminder how she isn’t here anymore.”

“I’m sorry.” Blake matched his steps as they got closer to where Kent was. “I was a real jerk to my stepmother for years. For what it’s worth, I regret it. And we’ve made our peace.”

“Well, I’ll keep hoping, then,” Matt said, though deep down, the fear never quite left him.

What if Evan were better off without him?

“Hey, son,” Blake called out. Kent turned around, his face pale under the blotchy red spots on his forehead and cheeks. He looked about four seconds away from tears, and Matt found himself suddenly sad.

Young love sucked. Old love wasn’t much easier, but at least you had some scar tissue built up around your heart to make it hurt a little less.

“Hey, Dad. Sorry about that.” Kent wrapped his arms around his chest. They were all cold, Matt realized. And most likely the other two were no more interested in returning to Tension House than he was.

“It’s okay, kid. I think we get it.” Matt tried to smile reassuringly. “Just some rocky stuff. Totally normal.”

Kent’s mouth wobbled as he tried to form words. “She lied. Or at least she left stuff out.” He looked at Matt apologetically. “You and Mr. Cerelli being together. It wouldn’t have mattered to me. It doesn’t.”

“Well, good. I’m glad to hear that,” Matt teased the kid gently. “Because I’m old and set in my ways.”

“I’m just confused. I thought we were, you know, honest with each other.” He looked so crestfallen.

Blake gave his son’s arm a squeeze, and Matt took a moment to appreciate the kind of father this guy was. He wasn’t smothering, but he did let the kid know he was there for him.

“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret,” Matt said, dropping his voice a bit. He made a show of looking left, then right. “Cerellis are amazing people. Smart, passionate… stubborn, secretive, and they go from ten to a hundred in five seconds flat, no matter what the emotion.” He winked. “They hate to be wrong, even when they really, really are.”