Unbeta’ed and subject to me fucking with it numerous times before posting.
We sat around for another twenty minutes and got reacquainted, and then moved to the kitchen for dinner. We talked careers, Edward’s new centre, Phil’s plans to retire next year, and mom’s herb garden. I was fairly certain my mother was growing more than mint and sage in that garden. Her witty and offbeat humour had Edward laughing all evening long, but that was no surprise, hippie or not, my mother was easy to love.
“So you’re marrying my daughter?” Renee said, her wine glass hovering around her lips.
“I am.” His answer was steady and strong.
“She talks in her sleep,” she offered.
“Bits her lips when she’s nervous, angry, horny.”
“Mom!” I hollered, not really shocked at all. The woman had zero filter.
“What? Go ahead and tell me it’s a lie.”
“She also bits it when she’s thinking really hard about something,” Edward said, grinning at me.
“Have you figured out how she’s got her books and movies set up?” Mom asked, looking to Edward with a sly little smile on her face.
Edward shook his head and put his fork down. “No. Seems utterly random.”
“I thought so too. But no. One of the first movies I took her too as a kid was The Goonies, first on the shelf. Last on the shelf is Dangerous Liaisons, made in the 80’s. But when had you first seen it, Bella Donna?”
“Three months ago,” I answered. It had been on late one night and I kind of fell in love with it and bought it a few days later.
“Her books are set up the same way. In the order she read them, not the author, year, or title,” my mom explained, looking at Edward. “And God help you, boy, if you fuck with that order.”
“So are we done talking about me?” I pushed away from the table and collected my plate and Phil’s.
“Not by a long shot, baby cakes!” Renee looked positively delighted at the prospect of outing my every eccentricity.
And so it went on. Mom filled Edward in on every embarrassing thing she could think of. She prattled on about how I’d fainted when I got my first period. She thought that was an acceptable topic because “He’s a doctor, Bella.” She pulled out old memories of my wobbly toddler years, my quiet, not so rebellious teens, and even managed to unearth the long buried memory of my first kiss. Jordie Hamlin. I was seven, still in pig tails and he was cute with all his red hair and freckles. I ran up to him on the playground and smacked my eager little lips to his, only to have him throw up his ham and cheese lunch all over the front of my yellow and purple daisy dress. I’d forgotten all about Jordie.