TWENTY-FOUR

TW: Homophobia (Lesbophobia, specifically)

A/N: Hang in there. This is a long one (5113 words; the average is around 1300-2200. 38 pages in my doc format).

★Kiara★

Lucille has uncovered the sun roof, allowing me to stare up at the stars as she drives. It's beautiful.

It's around 7:30 PM and we're driving up to York for her parent's Thanksgiving. We wanna get there early so we'll have some time without her chaotic family. Her words. Also just so I can simply get to know her parents before they have to attend to their dinner-hosting duties. Lucille said her dad is always in charge of cooking, while her mom handles basically everything else.

Also, there's hardly any highway traffic now.

We're already in our pajamas. For me, that consists of a black crewneck and sage green pajama pants with aliens and UFO's on them. Lucille has pink and white plaid pajama pants and a white tank top, cropped slightly on her stomach.

We've made a playlist combined of all our favorite songs. We have a surprisingly large amount in common when it comes to music. Currently, we're listening to girls by girl in red. Very on brand, I know. But the last song was Burning vs Drowning by McCafferty, so we've most definitely got a variety.

"You know, the first time I heard this song was because my dad was playing it." She snorts. God it's cuter every time.

"Really?!"

"Mhm. He likes to cook with music and girl in red was apparently on his playlist. I'd just been eating a snack at the island and then I heard the lyrics. He did this, like, slow turn around, a bit of embarrassment on his face, but then he just shrugged it off and said she's a good singer."

"Your dad sounds amazing..." I can't deny the hint of jealousy that makes me feel.

"Yeah. He really is." She seems to be lost in thought, but maybe she's just tired. Not too tired, hopefully. We've still got an hour to go.

"Was that before you came out?"

"Nope. Like 2 years before."

"At least you knew he was an ally." Unlike my parents.

She huffs out a laugh. "He was listening to girl in red. He may be married to a woman, but he seems like a little more than an ally." She pauses "No, wait—he told me that he's dated dudes before."

"What?! Really?"

"I don't know how I forgot about that... But yeah. He mentioned it after I'd come out."

"I still haven't met the dude, but he is an icon."

★★★

Lucille wakes me up once we've pulled into her driveway. I can see from her headlights that her house is actually really big. Two storeys, I'm betting there's a basement, three car garage, large front porch, tall roofs with dormers. Money, money, money.

We climb out of her car. I take a big stretch. The first thing I notice when we're outside is the faint beach smell. I haven't been to one in forever. Too bad it's winter.

Lucille seems indifferent about it, but that's to be expected. She grew up here and she's probably exhausted from the drive.

She's taking our suitcases from the trunk. I take mine while she takes hers. She didn't bring much. She said that half her wardrobe is still here.

We walk up to the porch. The driveway is a little slippery so we're a bit slow.

Lucille unlocks the door. It's one of those that uses a code to get in. I see her type it, but I don't actually process it enough to remember it. Not sure why I'd need to, but that's usually something I end up doing when I see people type their phone passcode in.

She lets us inside. The foyer is dimly lit, but it's much warmer in here. It's also beautiful. I don't understand how rich people are always so talented when it comes to interior design.

There's a high ceiling, the stairs and a small hallway right before us when we enter. There are rooms to the left and right to us, both presumably living rooms. Again—money, money, money.

The door at the end of the hall straight ahead swings open, giving me a small glimpse of what seems to be the kitchen. Who I can assume is Lucille's dad approaches us with open arms. His arms embrace Lucille in a brief but tight hug. "It's been way too long." He sighs heavily as he pulls back. The overly exaggerated sighing seems to be genetic I see...

His attention turns to me then. "And Kiara! I'm saying that right, right?"

"Yeah. Nice to meet you." Ugh I'm so awkward. I hold out a hand for him to shake, which he does take firmly.

"Likewise." He says with a grin. Of course he said likewise. Rich people always use fancy words. Also, I should probably stop being anti-rich. "I will let you two get some rest before the formal interrogation."

"Oh?" I say surprised, just as Lucille yells "Dad!" at her father along with a shove in the arm.

He chuckles, "I'm kidding. You know I am."

"Yes, but you're going to scare her."

"I really don't think I qualify as scary under any account, but we'll go with that." He continues to smile, it's quite similar to Lucille's, actually.

They look pretty similar in general. His hair is blonde, though darker than Lucille's natural color. He's also only a bit taller than her. I'm taller than him. He's on the skinnier side and has those same gray-blue eyes that Lucile does.

They definitely have their differences though. Lucille's face is rounder and she has a light amount of freckles.

He pulls Lucille in for a short side hug before she leads me upstairs. The hall when we get up there is just as fancy. There's white trim that goes up about halfway on all the walls. The walls themselves are painted an off-white color.

There's potted plants decorating some of the corners, quite a few white doors leading wherever, and lots of pictures on the walls. Some are actual paintings, while others are family photos. I'll have to get a better look at those later. The lighting is too dim right now, and Lucille is very quick on her feet as per usual.

Finally, she opens a door at the end of the hallway and—for the millionth time—I see the money, money, money inside.

Her room is massive. Probably the size of our dorm without the kitchen and entryway. She has a king sized bed, a vanity and a dresser and a desk and a walk-in closet and her own bathroom.

The entirety of her room is very Lucillecore. All white furniture, pink or pastel accents. It's also extremely clean, but that's to be expected of her.

"Your room is basically the size of my apartment growing up." I deliver it like a joke, but I am being very genuine.

She looks around. "Yeah..." She ends up agreeing. "It's a lot—but I am very grateful..!"

"You'd better be." I flop onto her bed. Her mattress is amazing. I never realized how bad the mattresses in the dorm are until now. I'm shocked I've never once heard her complain about those. I don't think I've heard her complain about the dorm at all. She's not as much of a spoiled brat as one would expect, I suppose.

I feel the bed dip as she plops down beside me on her bed. It is somehow only in this moment that I realize we will be sharing a bed for the first time. Obviously, I'm not expecting... anything to happen, but it's the principle of it..!

"You're on my side." She says after a moment of quiet.

"What?"

"You're on my side of the bed—which, frankly, I will not stand for." I take it back. She's still a brat. But I actually do not mind.

"Is that so? But I'm already so comfortable..." I jokingly complain, sinking into her pillow.

She takes one of her other pillows and hits me across the face with it. I sit up in response, clutching another pillow to hit her with.

"Wait—not that one!" She exclaims before I can hit her with it. I oblige, dropping the pillow back onto the bed and then grabbing a different one. I don't use nearly as much force as she had but she still yells, "OW! That fucking hurts!"

"I'm aware." I hit her in her side, significantly more gentle this time though.

"Bitch!" She starts hitting me with a pillow now too.

Eventually, her neatly-made bed is an absolute mess and we're calling a truce. Lucille gets her precious spot in her bed, I opt for being right beside her.

She leaves only a total of 2 pillows on the bed—one for each of us. The rest she just throws to the floor. Maybe she should just not have a dozen pillows, but it is what it is.

We lay side by side under the covers, staring up at her ceiling. It's white like everything else in the room and house.

I want to hold her. But I'm not going to make a move for it unless she does first. Yeah, I'm not too sure how I ended up in a relationship with this mindset.

★★★

Lucille managed to wake up before me. I feel a little bad. She drove all the way up here, while I slept most of the drive. And yet I got more sleep overnight. She seems okay though, having changed into a warm-colored striped sweater. Very Thanksgiving-esque. She's in black jeans—which I definitely approve of—with her pink hair half-up in space buns. She's so pretty.

"Morning." I say as I'm sitting up.

She startles slightly. "Jesus—finally. Some family friends are already here, by the way."

"Damn, really?" I stand from her bed, looking around as I can now see her room better with the sunlight pouring in from her windows. "What time is it?" I ask, though picking up my phone from where I'd put it on her nightstand. 9:12 AM my lock screen reads.

"Yeah. Just a childhood friend of my mom and his daughter. His wife too." She explains.

"Hm." I bend down by where I'd left my suitcase last night, grabbing my change of clothes. I still have no shame, so I get undressed here. I put on black jeans—unintentionally matching with Lucille, though mine are baggier—a plain black shirt and a flannel. Also very Thanksgiving-esque.

I take a moment to mentally prepare as Lucille is finishing up her makeup, sitting down on the ottoman in front of her bed. When she's finished, she stands from her vanity, stretching. "Ready to meet basically my entire family—minus my mom's side?"

"Your mom's side won't be here?"

"Nah. They only come every other year or so unfortunately. But I assure you, my dad's side makes up for it. Significantly. It's just Claire and her parents right now though." She explains, pocketing her phone.

"I'm assuming Claire is the kid of your mom's childhood friend..?"

"Oh, yeah. And don't be offended if she gives you weird looks or anything." She's leaving her room before I get the chance to ask why I would get weird looks.

I follow her down the hall, passing by all the pictures on the wall. I get slightly better glimpses of the family photos. And, of course, little Lucille.

She leads me down the stairs. She peeks her head into one of the living rooms, the one adjacent to the stairs. "Nicky! Harold!" She exclaims. The two middle-aged people, sitting on one of the couches (yes, there are multiple couches), stand.

"Lucille!" They both squeal in response. They each take a moment to hug. Gonna assume these are the family friends mentioned. I see who seems to be Claire sitting on the other couch. Lucille was right. She is very much giving me a look. And not a good one.

There is a very fast-paced exchange of how are you's and then the attention is brought to me. Fun.

"And you must be Kiera." The woman, Nicky, takes my hand.

"Kiara, yeah." I correct, forcing out a smile. I AM SO FUCKING AWKWARD.

"Nice to meet you." She gives me a much more genuine grin, her husband, Harold, giving a slight smile as well.

Then, Lucille is leading me off to the kitchen. Is it possible for my social battery to already be dead? Also, I think I'm dissociating, which is not beneficial.

The minute we enter the kitchen, the first thing I seem to notice is how massive, clean and sleek it is. Like everything in this house.

Lucille's dad, who I was told is named Connor, is cooking pancakes on the stove. He turns as he hears the squeaking of the kitchen door. "Morning," He smiles at us.

There's a girl—presumably her sister, Quinn—sitting at their island, sipping orange juice from a straw. She waves a hello.

"Where's Ma—" Lucille asks just as arms are suddenly being slung around our shoulders  from behind.

"So you're the Kiara Lee Okalani..." The woman, whose head has appeared between us, mutters in an accusatory tone.

"Mom! Why the hell do you know her middle name?—Is that even your middle name?" Lucille pushes her mom off of us. She's quite a bit taller than me, I realize.

"It is..." I quirk an eyebrow. It is awfully creepy that she knows my middle name. Also terrifying. This woman is significantly more threatening than her husband.

"I run background checks on all of my children's partners." She says with a shrug. "Though, it's sad I've only had to run two... You girls should be pulling more than that." She points a finger between Lucille and Quinn.

"Love, please don't endorse that." Connor sighs, shaking his head.

"Anyway... GET OVER HERE!" Lucille's mother suddenly pulls me in for a hug. I was not prepared for that. But it's nice... I don't think my own mother has hugged me since... I wish I knew.

She pulls back after a few moments, her comfort leaving—wait, no why am I thinking like that? And why are my eyes getting teary? I dab my eyes with my sleeve. Embarrassing...

Only then, does she go to hug Lucille, I realize. It's seemingly less firm than the one I got. I'm definitely reading too far into it. And I'm definitely making a big deal out of literally nothing.

"So. Sit." Her mother gestures to the kitchen island.

"Mom, you haven't even introduced yourself." Lucille mentions, taking her seat to the left of her sister. I go on Lucille's left.

"Right. It's Lea. But right now, it's interrogation time." Lea says, leaning onto the island from the opposite side.

"Your name is interrogation time?" Connor teases from where he resides flipping pancakes at the stove. I like his style...

"You're not funny." Lea groans, but he only laughs. Lucille is smiling too.

I'm envious. I'm going to admit that. I am very very jealous she got to grow up in this.

Connor finally places a ceramic plate full of pancakes on the center of the island, cutting Lea off before she can continue her interrogation. I can be happy about that. I really don't want this badass woman to murder me. I don't know why exactly she would, but it feels plausible.

"Lea, go fetch the others?" Connor asks his wife, washing his hands in one of the sinks. There are two. Also two fridges. Two ovens. Lots of counters.

"Why do I have to do it?" She complains.

"Because I have a lot to get done in here, and I think you're coming on a little strong..."

"Fineeeee." Lea draws on the word excessively, though it becomes more of a groan. She leaves the kitchen.

"Sorry. I know she can be a lot." Lucille's dad apologizes to me, passing each of us a plate for our pancakes, as well as a fork and knife.

"Nah, it's fine. I don't mind." I brush it off. It would've been a different story if she was actually rude, but she just seems to be energetic.

"Good." He smiles sweetly, then continues with his kitchen duties.

Lucille snatches some pancakes with her fork, plopping them onto her plate. I do the same. Quinn does too. The others, Nicky, Harold, and that Claire girl walk in to get some as well, but they go into the dining room to eat, which is through another swinging door on the right.

I am witness to an awkward glance between Claire and Lucille. I'm not sure what the deal is there. If they just aren't close, or if they're on odd terms, Lucille never specified.

I pour some syrup on my pancakes, cutting off a piece and taking a bite. They're chocolate chip. They are also amazing. Like better than most diners—holy shit.

"I see you didn't get the cooking gene..." I tease Lucille, also hoping to simultaneously compliment her dad.

"HA!" Lea shouts with a snort, walking back inside. I suppose I see a lot of Lucille in both of her parents...

"You're not allowed to laugh!" Lucille exclaims at her mother, her face red. "You're a worse cook than I am."

"Damn right." Lea agrees as if it's a good thing.

I devour my pancakes. They're the best thing I've had in a long time.

After breakfast, Lucille brings me into the living room. I sit down on the couch on the furthest wall, 90 degrees to the TV. Probably more for decorative use over practicality. She sits close beside me.

"You sure my mom wasn't too much? You doing okay?" Lucille checks in.

"Yeah. I'm alright. Don't stress over me too much." I take her hand in mine, planting a quick kiss on her knuckles.

"Dork." She snorts.

"I see you got the snorting from your mom..."

"Mhm. It's a curse."

"I think it's cute."

"Wow. You're being gay." Quinn notes, appearing in the doorway of the living room. She walks in, sitting on the other couch.

"Quinn! I meant to hug you earlier but mom really threw me off!" Lucille stands, going to hug her sister.

"I know. I was actually kind of hurt." Quinn replies sarcastically.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. This is Kiara, obviously." She gestures to me, returning to her spot beside me.

Quinn waves a hello again. "I still remember Lucille's first phone call home when she complained about you. It's quite ironic."

Claire walks in suddenly, hesitating a moment as she sees all of us in here already, but she enters fully, taking a seat on the far end of the other couch. I see Lucille frown, but she doesn't directly acknowledge her. This is odd... The bad vibes are prominent...

Quinn seems to notice this too, glancing between them. Thankfully, she draws the attention elsewhere. "So... Kiara... What's your major again?"

"Uh, psychology." I answer. "I'm kind of regretting it, to be honest, but it's interesting."

And then I swear I see this Claire bitch roll her eyes. Lucille clearly notices as well...

"Okay, Claire," Lucille speaks in a firm tone. Yikes... "I don't want to have to do this over dinner so let's do it now—What is your problem?!"

Claire stands up suddenly. "My problem?! My problem is that you've been ignoring me because of her!" She gestures to me. Oh dear.

"That's not even true! I told you I had a crush on a girl—which was a lie at the time—and then you completely ghosted me."

Lucille never told me about this. But even without the full context, I'm pissed too. I put my hand on Lucille's back, hoping to show some support.

"I..!" Claire stammers. "I was just busy!"

"Were you though? Because it definitely wasn't the first time you've ignored me because of my sexuality!" Lucille is mad. And rightfully so—holy shit.

"That..! That isn't even true!"

"Woah, woah, woah." Connor is in here now, his hands up. "Let's stop the yelling—what is going on?"

"Claire's being homophobic again." Lucille says to her dad, her arms crossed over her torso.

"I am not!"

"Okay, okay." Connor cuts them both off. "Let's calm down and talk, alright?"

Quinn seems very uncomfortable, fidgeting with the fabric of her clothes. She's technically right in the middle.

I decide it's probably for the best if we both leave. Give Lucille and Claire some space to work this out.

"Let's go." I mutter to Quinn, her widened eyes meeting mine. I stand from my space on the couch, my hand slowly sliding off of Lucille's back. "We'll give you three some space to talk this out..."

Quinn stands with me and we exit the living room. Once we're in the entryway, Quinn goes straight upstairs—to her bedroom I assume.

I decide I should probably grant them some actual privacy, so I go up to Lucille's room.

I lay back in her bed, appreciating this small breather. I get the feeling this night is only going to get worse. At least socially. I hate people...

After a few minutes I'm not hearing anymore yelling. Maybe they just have actually decent walls, but I take this as a sign that things have calmed down.

I step out into the hallway and head back down the stairs, but as I'm halfway down I hear voices being raised again...

"That isn't true! I'm just uncomfortable with how much she talks about girls!" I hear Claire exclaim. What the fuck?

"You used to talk about guys all the time!" Lucille counters.

I sit down on the steps. I need to hear this, but I don't want to intrude.

"That's different!"

"Why is it different?"

"B-because..!" Claire stammers. "I just... I just don't get your obsession with girls! At least if one of us is talking about a boy, the other can relate!" She bullshits her way into a reason.

"That's not... Okay—for starters, I am not obsessed with girls, I'm attracted to them. It's attraction. It is not at all different." This is a mess. I feel sick.

"It just makes me uncomfortable okay?! I shouldn't have to explain an emotion. It's just what I feel." Claire groans.

"That is literally homophobia." Lucille seems to remind her. "And, also, I shouldn't have to explain how I love who I love. Love is an emotion too, isn't it?"

"Claire." Lucille's dad speaks now. And my god does he sound pissed. "If you are uncomfortable, you can leave."

"That's not fair!—" Claire exclaims, her voice shrill.

"Claire," Another voice speaks. I think it's Claire's dad. What was his name—Harold? "Just stop this, alright? Grow up." Harsh, but justified.

"Dad, you have literally said the same thing!"

"Yeah," Her father agrees. "And then I grew up and learned basic respect. Go take a walk."

There is quiet for a few more seconds. I'm not in the room, but I can feel the tension from my place on the steps.

"Fine." I hear Claire grunt, and then stomping. She storms out of the living room. She slips on her shoes in the foyer—not even noticing me—and she leaves, slamming the front door behind her.

I peek into the living room. Connor is beside Lucille on the couch, hugging her. Lea stands beside them, her arms crossed and her teeth gritted. She nods a silent hello when she sees me.

Claire's dad slips past me, out of the room. I step in a little more as Lucille and her dad separate from their embrace. Lucille's eyes are teary, but she takes a breath and stands up.

She pulls me in for a hug—I've gotten a lot of those today—and then the two of us go up to her room. She's clearly pretty down, and rightfully so. Both her parents seemed upset as well. Mostly anger. Though, it's sweet how supportive and protective they are of Lucille.

We sit side-by-side on her bed, her head leaning on my shoulder. I just let her vent. She rants on and on about how she and Claire used to be close. How Claire outed her. Their clearly unhealthy, toxic relationship. She seems to be blaming herself quite a bit. Which just isn't fair. I don't think she's looking for my guidance though. She just needs to talk. So thank god I'm a good listener.

Eventually her tangent shifts into general ranting about life. Her stress from classes, which she hadn't mentioned before now, has been taking a toll on her apparently. I guess she has been staying up later for homework and the like. I just feel terrible for not realizing the weight of it all.

She clearly bottles things up. But I reassure her that she can talk to me about anything—free of judgment.

★★★

Most of the other guests are arriving now. It's a little before 3 PM. Claire hasn't returned (hooray), but Lucille said she's probably sulking at her house, which is just down the street.

She's been dragging me throughout the house, briefly introducing me to every person here. I do not retain a single name.

Lea is telling bizarre—potentially untrue—stories to the adults in one of the living rooms. All of the kids, most of which are Lucille's cousins, are huddled around the TV in the other living room. Quinn is in there too. There is a very large age range. From teens to toddlers.

Lucille and I decide to hang out in the dining room since no one else is in there but we aren't technically hiding, per say.

"Your family is amazing." I comment. And it's true. They're a tad overwhelming at times, but I really like them.

"Yeah," She agrees. "My dad's side especially is really great. My mom's is good too, but they are very energetic. It gets hectic."

"I definitely see that in your mom. She seems like a lot."

"She definitely can be. She's a doctor though, and that's about the only time she's serious. When she's treating us or she's at work, I mean." Lucille explains.

As if summoning her, Lea walks into the room. She spins a chair around and sits down backwards on it, her arms crossed over the top of the backing. She's across from where we sit side-by-side at the table. "Dinner's in ten," she explains. "Coco has officially banished me from the kitchen—rude, I know."

"Coco is what she calls my dad." Lucille mutters to me. "Were you trying to eat a bread roll early?" She asks her mother.

"Yes, but this is my house—my kitchen! I think I have a right." She shrugs.

"It's definitely not your kitchen. Last time you tried to cook we almost lost another house." Lucille argues.

"Mm... Touché. Anyway—so, Kiara." She suddenly draws the attention to me.

"Yes..?" I'm scared.

"Where're you from?" Lea asks. It's a pretty tame question.

"I was born in Buffalo. New York. But my Dad's family is native Hawaiian, if that's what you're asking..." I try to cover all my bases.

"Hm... Gotcha. Anyway, let's turn this conversation back to me." She gestures with her hands, like she seems to do every time she speaks. "You see, I was born and raised in a poor-ass household in Québec—I don't know how I ended up here." She whispers cryptically to me. "And then we moved to Maine, and I'd just been going about my classes when this absolute dickhead knocks the damn books outta my hands! Then suddenly I'm getting married and I've got a couple million dollars to my name. And then I have a kid, and then another, and then suddenly I have three kids—until I suddenly just don't!"

"Mom!" Lucille groans. I hadn't been aware there was a third child...

"What? It's true."

"Stop trauma-dumping on my girlfriend! Jesus..."

"Ah, there's a word for that now? I suppose I am a professional trauma dumper..."

"Yes. Yes you are." Lucille agrees.

"So..." I try to direct the conversation away from a clearly touchy subject... "You and Connor were high school sweethearts? Or college..?" I'm a little hesitant on whether or not to call Lucille's dad by name aloud.

"High school, yeah. He was the student council president and I was the weirdly-booksmart music freak."

"Kiara plays piano!" Lucille announces. I realize I'd forgotten I play the keyboard. I probably haven't played in over a year. Despite the handful of times Lucille pleaded me to play something, I never actually did it.

"Really? You know we actually have a piano in the study—"

"Nope." I cut her off, a little regretfully. "I don't really play in front of people... Nor do I enjoy playing at all.

"Ah, that's too bad then—" Lea is cut off by a yell from the kitchen.

"LEA! YOU HAD ONE JOB." Connor yells.

"Whoopsie." Lea hops up from her chair. "MY BAD."

She storms into the kitchen, the door swinging back-and-forth before slowing to a shut. And then there's a loud "OW" from Connor, followed by "MOTHER F—"

"HA! YOU DID IT AGAIN!" I hear Lea let out a loud laugh. I am very lost.

She quickly leaves the kitchen, grinning. There's a cat in her arms now. "This is Tiger, he likes turkey. I was supposed to keep him out of the kitchen. Lucille, watch him, I need to go give my husband medical attention." She hands Lucille the orange cat then goes back into the kitchen.

"Wait—did he burn his hand again?!" Lucille calls to her mother. She's laughing too.

Lucille stands up, the cat in her arms. I follow her as she opens the kitchen door, peering inside.

"Every goddamn year." I hear Connor mutter as Lea runs his—apparently burnt—hand under the sink water.

"Well technically it's only every other year so—JARED TAKE THE TURKEY OUT!" Lea corrects and then shouts at who I'm pretty sure is Lucille's grandfather.

"Don't tell me what to do, woman." Jared  replies.

"I will bite you old man, don't you fucking test me—"

I see Connor smirk, then shake his head. "Wow... cheating on me with my own father..." He teases his wife.

"Oh shut up!" She slaps his upper arm, also grinning. These two are nothing like my parents... Like at all. But it's a breath of fresh air. It's odd hearing yelling with a positive undertone.

Jared/Connor's dad/Lucille's grandfather ends up taking the turkey out of the oven and it actually looks amazing.

Lucille leads us back out of the kitchen, so as to not get in the way of their last minute touches.

"As you can see, my parents yell a lot... But it's never hostile..." Lucille explains anxiously as we sit back down. She's probably thinking I have parents yelling registered as negative in my head—and I do, but I know the difference. "Like they genuinely always have a smile on their face when they do. They're both very loud. At least with each other."

"I like the energy... It's very different from my parents, but in a really good way..." I admit.

"Just let me know if they're being too much, okay? I'll handle it." She gives me a sympathetic smile.

"Right. And, honestly, it really is a breath of fresh air... I'm glad you got to grow up like this..."

I realize a look on her face, reading a bit of sadness.

I really, really, really hope this doesn't have something to do with what Lea brought up earlier. About having three kids. It's pretty obvious it's not that way anymore.

I'm about to ask if she's okay or what's wrong, but I hear someone (maybe this Jared guy or some uncle?) call "DINNER!" from the kitchen.