Food for Thought by Amy Lane Page B

Emmett garbled, and then swallowed. He took a healthy swig of milk and tried again. “No. But now so much about the whole last year makes sense.”
    “I won’t mind, you know,” Keegan said, for once some of his confidence deserting him.
    “Won’t mind what?”
    “Being a family of two, and meeting your family of a gazillion. I just… you know. It’s like with you and Chris. It should have been great….”
    “But we weren’t the right people,” Emmett filled in, smiling.
    “What’s so funny?”
    “Nothing. I just don’t know how I’m going to put that into a cookbook.”
    Keegan rolled his eyes. “Emmett, after we wash dishes, can we have sex?”
    His brown eyes were big and deep, and his soft pillow of a mouth was still as beguiling as it had been two days ago. “God, yes. Please.”
    “Then I’ve had all the food I need.”

Beet Porridge, For Clarity
     
    T WO MONTHS later, they made beet porridge. It took them all day, because Emmett tried making the chipotle seasoning from scratch, and he was glad he’d thought to wear gloves and ventilate the house, or they all might have died from tear-gas exposure. They cooked nonfrozen chicken in the chipotle broth until it was falling off the bone, and then added the sautéed vegetables and onions and the finely ground beets, and cooked everything until it became stew.
    Then they put it in a special insulated bowl, along with the almond shortbread cookies and a veggie feta casserole that they’d gotten from another cookbook that Emmett had been using so he didn’t get fat.
    They gathered all the food together and stuffed it in the car, along with a bag packed for two days and enough of Keegan’s nerves to make a whole other person.
    “You told her?” he asked, when they were halfway to Chico.
    “That I was bringing someone? Yes! You heard me!”
    “You told them I was a man.”
    Emmett smiled, remembering the conversation with Flora.
    “Flora, I’m bringing home someone for the big birthday get-together—is that okay?” All of the Tomiche’s birthdays grouped in the same three months. As soon as Cecily turned eighteen, they started having a big gathering, just to make it easier.
    “Yes, Emmett. Good. Are you bringing that Christine person?”
    “Uhm, no. Uhm, his name is Keegan and—”
    “Oh, good ! Does Vinnie know?”
    “Uhm, yeah. I texted him this morning.”
    “What did he say?”
    Emmett didn’t even have to look at the text to remember it, word for word. “He said, ‘What? Did you think I was stupid? I knew Jordyn was your college roommate. When you told Ma you broke up with a Jordyn and it was a “her,” we figured we’d wait until you were ready to come out!’” Emmett finished his impression by rolling his eyes, because he was pretty sure Vinnie had done just that when he’d been texting.
    Flora laughed. “That’s my boy! Yes. We were very worried when you started talking about a girl, Emmett. We weren’t sure, you know?”
    Emmett swallowed. “Yeah.”
    “We hoped you’d trust us enough, but….”
    “You’re my family, Flora.” He smiled and caught Keegan’s eye. Keegan, who was lying next to him, still in bed, watched him apprehensively, probably waiting for some sort of nasty comment or horrible upshot. It wasn’t going to happen. “I even added a little to that cookbook you gave me. Do you want me to bring it back?”
    “No,” Flora had said, her voice decisive. “No. You and your young man keep it. Maybe give it to another youngster with big gray eyes who comes wandering to your porch.”
    Emmett swallowed. Yeah. Family. It really was his for the taking.
    “Me and Kee’ll do that, okay?”
    “So, tell me about your young man—what’s he like?”
    Emmett spent the next twenty minutes, talking about Keegan while Keegan lay next to him and pet the cat. By the time Emmett hung up the phone, he was looking a little bright-eyed.
    “Am I really the love of your life?”
    “I’m taking you to meet my