Noah
Noah smiled, trying hard to conceal the fact that having pleased her with something as simple as picking the right creamer made him feel damn good. "I thought it fit the occasion."
"I also saw the champagne in the fridge. How'd you manage that? Didn't they card you?"
Taking an annoyed deep breath, he walked into the kitchen. The smell of her freshly shampooed hair, with a touch of something else—very subtle perfume maybe— overwhelmed his senses as he walked by her. He almost forgot about the irritating question. He'd had a fake I.D. for over a year now, not that he got carded too often. Like this morning, the clerk glanced up at him and just asked him for his birthday. He gave it to her with the fake year, and she just punched it in.
"I also got beer, and, no, they didn't card me." As smug as he had hoped to sound, his words sounded more defensive than anything. If she noticed, she didn't let on. Instead, she barely glanced at him before her eyes were on the oven behind him. "It's already lunch time. We spent so much time preparing the food we skipped breakfast."
"You hungry?"
"Starving."
"Well, let's do this."
With everything done, they moved the food to the dining room table and sat down prepared to eat. Just as he saw her fork dig into the mashed potatoes, he had to ask. "Aren't we supposed to say grace first?"
With a near frown, Roni shrugged and dropped her fork. "You can if you want to. God and I haven't exactly been on speaking terms for a while."
Ah. With that in mind, Noah kept it short and to the point, and then they dug in. Noah glanced up at her after a few minutes of silent ravishing. She wasn't kidding when she said she was starving, and he hadn't realized what an appetite he'd worked up with such a busy morning.
"So your mom was really the only family you ever had?"
She nodded, and thankfully, she didn't seem uncomfortable with the subject. "My mom mentioned having a much older sister who she never really knew. My grandparents were older when they had my mom. She was an unexpected but pleasant surprise." She buttered a roll as she spoke, seemingly okay with sharing this part of her life with him. She told him all about the much older sister her mom had that ran off when she was eighteen and never returned, so while she knew she had an aunt somewhere, she'd never met her.
"What about your dad?" Judging by her sudden change in expression, this obviously wasn't quite as easy a question as his first. Worried that this might change her mood, he added, "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want."
"No, it's no biggie. I never met him. My mom fell in love with an acquaintance of the family who came from Mexico to visit for weeks at a time. He made her all kinds of promises, especially after they became intimate, and when he'd go back to Mexico, they'd write each other constantly. When she wrote him to tell him she was pregnant, he never wrote back." Her expression hardened. "She later found out he'd been married the whole time. His visits over here were to make money to send back to his wife and kids. She was devastated, but my aging grandparents helped raise me though I was really young when they passed, and from then on, it was just me and her."
She dipped her roll in her potatoes and took a bite.
Feeling bad that he'd dredged up such a sore subject, Noah felt compelled to say something and then hopefully change the subject. "Well, I'm sorry about your dad, but at least your grandparents stuck by your mom. I know the older generation tends to be very stern about those kinds of things."
Her smile made him feel better. "No, my grandparents were wonderful." She glanced around. "This was their house. They left it to me and my mom." Her eyes met him and were suddenly full of compassion. "And don't be sorry. At least I had my mom. Were you really in foster care your whole life?"
Noah wanted a change of subject, but this certainly wasn't the direction he had in mind. He continued to eat, trying to play it off as if it was no big deal. "I honestly don't know anything about my dad, and I barely remember my mom. All I know is we lived in a house here in Los Angeles. We shared it with several other families. I'd go to school, come home, go into our room, and wait for her to get home from work." He took a hard drink of his coffee, surprised that talking about it still made him sad. "One day when I was six, she never came home. The other women in the house looked after me, saying the migra had taken her from the factory she worked at and sent her back to Mexico but she'd be back for me. Then weeks later, we got notice that she'd been killed when the truck she and about thirty other immigrants were being smuggled in crashed just before crossing the border. So I was placed in foster care and was told it was only until one of my mother's family members came to get me." He moved his food around on his plate. It'd been years since he told this story to anyone, and he was surprised now that he was telling her this. The only other person he'd ever shared this with was Gio. He glanced up at him, and she was staring, her eyes full of compassion. "No one ever came. End of story."
She nodded as if she understood and wouldn't ask anything else. Strangely, he wanted her to. As hard as it was to relive it, it felt good to tell someone else. He'd only told Gio bits and pieces over the years, and that was usually when he was drunk.
"I'm so sorry to hear that, Noah. Have you ever tried to find any of your mom's family?"
Noah shook his head almost annoyed, not at her, but at the idea of his trying to reconnect with people who obviously didn't give a shit about him. Over the years, he'd come to the conclusion that if he and his mom were all alone living with strangers in a shared house, then none of her family gave a shit about her either. "What for? If they had any interest, they would've come looking for me. I was the kid."
"Maybe they didn't know about you."
A bitter chuckle escaped him. "Someone knew. They knew enough to send word about my mom being killed." He stared at her eyes that now seemed to search for more in his. "You know that saying 'blood is thicker than water'?" She nodded. "It's bullshit. Growing up, I got to know a lot of different families, and it always amazed me how fucked up some of these families were."
Noah bit his tongue before he went on. As good as it felt to let it out, today wasn't the day for it. Today was supposed to be fun. He shook his head and speared a piece of turkey breast with his fork. "Anyway, some of the relationships I've developed over the years with friends, I would never dream of trading them with someone just because we have the same blood running through our veins. That's all I'm saying. I didn't mean to get all heavy on you."
He stuck the turkey in his mouth and stood up. "You ready for some champagne?" Her pensive eyes were still glued to him even as he glanced back at her. "I know it's early, but what the hell? It's a holiday."
Her expression finally eased up, and then she smiled. "Yeah, I'll take some."
All the muscles in his back and arms seemed to have tensed up with that last conversation. He needed something to bring him down, help him relax so he could enjoy the rest of the day and evening with her. The very thought pulled him immediately out of his edgy mood, and he smiled as he pulled the bottle of bubbly out of the fridge.