Logan Chapter 80

-Emory-

Mama comes to my rescue, like always. She’s always said us girls need to stick together when the menfolk get squirrely. “Well, I for one am ready to eat and take to the bed. It’s been a long, long day for everybody and we’ve got a big weekend planned already. What are we doin’ for dinner?” Oh yeah, dinner. I wonder how far the girls got on it before Logan dismissed everyone? Hopefully they were able to set things to keep warm or turn them off entirely without wasting a lot of food.

“Well, Mama, we ordinarily have a couple of younger pack members come practice their cooking on us, but Logan had to dismiss them to save Bryan from himself, so I’m not sure how far they got on dinner. We could go check?” Bryan shakes his head at my childish dig, but I have never seen him suck so badly at self preservation. As one of very few cops in our home town, he’s always been great at reading situations and deescalating, but he came in all testosterone today.

“Now sweetie, you have to forgive your brother. He’s been very worried about you. You know how you were always his baby.” Bryan has always babied me.

“I usually don’t mind it, but I’m a whole adult about to get sort-of-married! I think it’s time I grew up a little bit, don’t you?” I look beseechingly at my mom, hoping she’ll find a way to get him and dad to see reason. Instead, she just pats my hand as we walk into the kitchen.

“It doesn’t matter how old you get Emmy-Jo, you’ll always be our baby. Now let’s see what these girls were up to in here. Oh, they were makin’ a full holiday meal! Look, sweetheart, they were makin’ us a full ham, some cornbread, and greens. Now, I would’ve fried the greens with some bacon for the grease, but they’ve got the spirit. I’ll have to show them a few things when they come back tomorrow.” I laugh to myself as Mom takes over making dinner for all of us, tutting at the placement of utensils and pans she needs, the lack of extra bacon grease, and general sleekness of the kitchen.

“Mama, they’re training to be professional chefs, you can’t expect them to keep decor around at their jobs.” I find myself peeling potatoes, like always, while Mama keeps working to “save” the greens.

“There’s no call for a kitchen to be cold, Emmy-Jo. It’s the very heart of a home and you can’t expect anybody to be comfortable if the kitchen is all impersonal. It’s like havin’ a couch with no cushions on it. You only set your house up like this if you don’t want anybody in it.” I roll my eyes. She has very definite opinions on how a house should be decorated. I suppose my career choice didn’t come out of a vacuum.

“I’ll talk to Logan about putting some art on the walls or something, Ma, but we’re not going to make the girls’ jobs harder by putting decorative bread boxes and wooden chickens everywhere.” I know Logan told me I could change anything, but I hesitate to make anyone’s job harder just for my visual pleasure. I’m sure there’s a compromise to be made.

“Fine, fine, baby. You’ve always had such high-minded ideas about how stuff should look. I figure if it makes me happy to see it, it’ll make me happy to have it in a room. Now give me those potatoes, I need to get them mashed before this dinner is unsalvageable.” I hand them over and she throws them in to boil. Once they’re set to simmer, she checks on everything else, turns temperatures back up where they need to be, and generally putters around the kitchen.

I’ve missed the homey feeling that comes with having my mom cooking for everyone. For the first time, I wonder if my kids will be missing out on that if we have new people coming in to cook all the time. If the kitchen is the heart of the home, after all, should we at least have someone long-term here? Of course, Logan and I have a while yet before we have to think about all that, so I just settle in and bask in the nostalgic feelings.

In contrast to the homey feeling of cooking with Mama, dinner is quiet and a little awkward. Everyone compliments Mama’s cooking, of course, and she deflects and compliments our chefs in training. By the end of it, I can see Landon twitching to leave the uncomfortable atmosphere, and I can’t blame him. It seems like Bryan got a stern word from Dad about how to behave in someone else’s home- like when we were little- and he’s on a slightly snotty version of his best behavior. By the time Elliana finishes her food, we’re all looking around at each other, wondering who will be first to make excuses. Turns out, it’s Landon.

“I guess that’s the end of my evening off. I’d better go keep an eye on Cora. I’ll text you with any updates, Logan.” Landon pats Logan’s shoulder as he stands up. “It was great meeting you guys. Have a good night.” He waves generally at the table as we all murmur our goodbyes, and promises a card game with Hunter later this weekend.

“I guess we’d better turn in, Emmy.” Dad says, trying to let everyone else off the hook. “If you’ll show us our rooms, I’m sure we’ll be all set.” Elliana looks at him with disgust.

“Dad, it is single-digits on the clock, still. I’m not going to bed at loser o’clock. Is there anything to do around here, sis? What’s your favorite club?” Elliana hardly knows what to do with herself without her friends to plan around, and she should know better than to think I would have a favorite club.

“You’re not going out clubbing in New York City, young lady. It’s not safe.” Dad interrupts. “You can just stay up playing on your phone like you always do on a school night.” Elliana sits back with a disgusted sigh.

Logan stands up. “Here, let me show you all to your rooms. The maids should have had plenty of time to set them up. You should all have attached bathrooms and be good to go on that front, too. Let me know if you need anything else.” We all get up from the table and troop upstairs, after a brief argument with Mama about the dishes. Once she’s finally convinced that it’s the maids’ job to do them, she compromises by setting them all in the sink and coming up to see their rooms.

There’s enough space in the pack house that everyone got their own rooms, but Mom and Dad’s is in a suite with Elliana’s, and the boys’ rooms are in a suite as well. Logan and I are on the opposite end of the same hallway, so we should be accessible if anyone needs us. Once we get everyone settled, I collapse face first into Logan’s bed. Our bed, I mean. Logan climbs up over me and starts planting kisses up my spine.

“I suppose that could have gone worse,” I say, muffled by the blanket, “Bryan could have died. Mom could have set the kitchen on fire.” Logan chuckles and rubs my shoulders. I moan just slightly at the glorious relaxation that spreads through me like warm honey.

“Let me work some of that tension out of you, little rose. You have some teasing to pay for.” I moaned for an entirely different reason, all that warm honey feeling replaced by something far hotter.