BXBX NOVEL Chapter 933 Made With Love
Chapter 933 Made With Love
Mom cocked her head. Taking the question however way she desired to. As always.
"Since we stepped off the train late last night, if you're asking overall. If you mean here… then I'd say for roughly around three hours now. More than enough time to catch up with my would-be in-laws."
Would-be in-laws. We're starting with those kinds of talks right off the bat, I see. Yeah, you just know I'm going to be in for a real good time here.
"No bike? I remember you told us you brought a bike," Mom threw her gaze out onto the driveway, and paused to frown, the disappearance of my two-wheeler perplexingly her so. "Is it broken already?"
Already? Was that supposed to mean something? Still a bit of a grudge leftover back from when I was seven and constantly breaking every new toy I got within a three-day period?
Hey, now, I'm a grown man, you know? But also…
"Yeah, bike's busted," I admitted. "Is in the shop now, no big deal. Um, anyway, you've been here that long and I'm only finding out now?"
"That's how surprises work, don't they?"
"Yeah, but this is… sudden, I mean, you—"
"In first," she interjected, whisking her smile and herself back deeper into the house. "You process better once you're relaxed and I've made you something to eat. Come."
I lingered on for a little while on the other side of the doorway, staring in like a total stranger peeking through the blinds, and caught a glimpse of Ash.
She was just standing in place, and in her most dignified stance, perpetual at the behest of anyone and everyone's beck and call, while the green in her eyes signaled to me her growing unease like some glimmering S.O.S beacon.
Can't say I blame her for constantly being on guard in the slightest even if she was already acquainted with my family. Mom being under anyone's roof but her own is already cause enough for concern.
Welp, guess I better go swoop in and… do something, I suppose.
I slipped out of my shoes, and cautiously began making my way inside. All at once, I felt my eyes being pulled to many vastly different directions and sights.
Like Sammy for instance, still throwing much shade my way and sitting comfy on the couch, her legs dangling from the side like she owned the place. Somewhere on the upper flooring, I noticed a surreptitious pair of golden lights peering curiously over the railing. Along the way, I accidentally kicked something small, round, and noisy, that went rolling off in a blur of loud chimes and bright colors.
A moment later, Mr. Black streaked out of nowhere in hot, frantic pursuit of it, suddenly flashing a bright pink collar around his neck as well as a matching fuzzy sweater to go along with it.
"I bought those, they're yours," Sammy said proudly, taking full responsibility for completely vogue-ing my cat. "Go ahead, say that you love 'em. I already know you do."
"Mine?" I asked, feeling dubious. "Sure you didn't just buy it for him?"
"What's the difference?" she said, shrugging with total indifference. "Happy Birthday, Big Bro."
Mr. Black had gone under the coffee table, smacking himself against every wooden leg underneath trying to nab his slippery inanimate prey and very clearly struggling to do so inside his brand-new straitjacket.
My poor cat has been institutionalized. Awesome.
"Hey," I whispered, finally reaching Ash who had been lingering around the kitchen entrance. "You okay? How are you doing?"
Ash smiled in return, her demeanor slipping into something more at ease.
"Better, Master," she said. "Now that you're here."
"Sorry if they caught you off-guard. I had no idea they were coming. Mom didn't make you do anything funny, did she? Or maybe anything? You can tell me."
"Nothing," Ash quickly assured. "Merely only inquired where we store our ingredients. Aided her in familiarizing herself with our surroundings. Apart from that, your family has continued to be very pleasant guests to accommodate."
"Pleasant, but nevertheless, unexpected, right?" I said, glancing once more at her and the way she kept herself swaying not even an inch astray in place. "One to ten, Ash. How nervous are you?"
Ash smiled at me again, except this one took a more confiding shape, a bashful admittance of what was already plainly obvious.
"Only to ten, Master?" She asked me, pretty much telling me all I needed to know. "To deserve my place by your side, to be granted the privilege of loving you as I do… and to have your family see it as so… I fear it will forever remain a daunting task, I must confess."
"What's there to fear?" I said, cupping and lifting her chin. "You're doing great so far."
Ash's ears gave a single twitch, but that might have been from the sound of footsteps slowly approaching from the kitchen. Then, in the air, stronger, closer… a warm oozing aroma of bittersweetness. Mom emerged from the kitchen, hands in mittens, and serving brownies in a large silver tray.
A second later, Adalia appeared, trailing silently behind her like some sort of stalking ghost. I caught her eye, said 'Hi', and she blinked 'Hello' right back. At any rate, she seemed to be adjusting a lot better than Ash was. So that's nice.
Brownies. Of course. What else could she have been making, this day, this occasion? No wonder they're here. All makes sense now.
"Fresh batch," Mom said, beaming, setting the tray down atop the dining table. "Had a little help for this one this time."
A little help? Did she mean…? Oh, no way…
I turned away from the brownies, swerving the other way, and taking a closer look at Adalia, noticing only then, the faint sprinkles of white powder peppered over her dress and hair.
"You made something?" I asked.
Adalia slowly nodded her head.
"It's for your birthday," Mom said, speaking as if it were the most obvious thing. "The moment she knew that… well… why wouldn't she want to?"
"Ash… helped…" Adalia muttered softly. "She… showed me…"
"A mere exaggeration," Ash shook her head, denying credit. "I simply oversaw her work… offering my aid… only when needed, of course."
"We'll just keep it simple, shall we?" Mom declared, wedging herself between both modest, humble damsels. "It's your Birthday, dear. What do you think is the first thing these girls would have loved to do?"
For a brief moment, I tried to picture it. Ash and even Adalia, both toiling away at the countertops, whisking, mixing, while Mom stood over by the oven. The gracious head chef to her little posse of three.
Man… why couldn't my bike have sputtered out any other day?
"I…" I trailed away, feeling a smile on my lips. "I don't know what to say…"
"Now you have them continuing our little birthday tradition," Mom said l, glowing with pride. "You didn't honestly think I was going to break our streak this year, did you?"
"Kinda wish you would," said a swaying pair of legs from afar, crossing themselves limply. "A birthday cake is seriously loads better than birthday brownies. Ain't sick yet? I mean—this—brown bread every year? Bro, you got the weirdest taste."
"Then don't eat, simple as that," I said, slowly drawn, enticed, by the wispy swirl of sugary goodness wafting away. "More for me."
But just as I reached for a piece at the top of a pile, it suddenly shot past me, mere crumbs grazing the skin of my fingertips as it sped off, like a hockey puck hurtling through the air, landing in the goalpost that was Sammy's outstretched hand.
"Didn't say I didn't want 'em," she said, taking a greedy mouthful and chewing ravenously. "Delicious, Mom."
"Sammy…" Mom's tone went slightly stout, still light and gentle, but in the same ominous way that there was a calm before every storm. "You know, I'd rather not repeat myself again. Especially after one too many times already. Would you?"
"Oh, right…" Sammy hunkered her legs, slinking them behind the couch. "But, I mean… it's just for a brownie, so…"
"So?" Mom challenged her. "Did I mention any exceptions?"
"Alright, fine," Sammy grumbled. "Sorry, Mom," gobbling down the rest as she finished her apology. "Won't happen again."
Well, this was… certainly different.
This bickering, talking. When and where I left them last, neither even dared speak a word to each other. Mostly Sammy, but… point still stands… just when exactly did the forgiveness process end?
Or, hell… did it even start?
"Anyway," Mom said, reverting back to a friendlier stance, a wry look meeting mine. "Adalia was just telling me about your lovely date last Christmas."
"She was?" I turned to Adalia. "You were?"
"Indeed," Mom affirmed. "And of all of the wonderful things that you two had done together."
"All of it…" I repeated, then felt my heart pogo into my throat as soon as I did, and once again, I repeated back to her, choked throat and all. "All of it?"
Mom nodded, affirming once again.
"All of it."