"We agreed. If I won, you'd marry me someday."
"Why'd you wanna marry me, anyhow?" I ask.
"So, I can do this for the rest of our lives," he stops walking with me in his arms, his radiant blue-green eyes flickering between my eyes and lips as the ons...
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The shock written on mom's face is quite frankly, heart wrenching.
"Good Lord," she whispers, placing her dainty hand on her chest. Tears well in her vibrant blue orbs aglow with happiness.
Without warning, mom engulfs me in a tight embrace. Jasmine, peaches, and vanilla tickles my senses, filling me with a warm reminder of home.
As long as I can remember, mom has always smelled like this. It brought me comfort on so many days as a kid. It became my favorite scent but strangely, the smell is uniquely her.
I bought a few products back in New York, trying to replicate the scent on the days I felt homesick and extremely lost, but I could never get it right.
And I know, we each have our own unique scent. Any perfume or product used will smell otherwise on different people.
Besides, I don't think it was mama's scent I was missing. It was her.
"You've gotten so skinny," mom pulls back, squeezing my shoulders, and examining my body like she can see my kilos drop by the second.
"It's good to see you, too, mama," I grumble, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. "I'm sorry, I should've called to let you know I'm coming."
"Nonsense," mom swats the air. "This is one of the best surprises," she pinches my cheek.
"I won't be staying long. I'm actually here to tie off a few loose ends before I return back to New York."
"Oh," mom's expression drops. "Then you didn't have to stop by," mom turns around, walking inside.
I walk behind her slightly slouched 5'5" frame. The aroma of baked cookies fills my nostrils as soon as I enter my childhood home. The day before I left home was the last time, I smelled something so delectable.
Obviously, New York has bakeries with mouth-watering aromas, but nothing beats the orgasmic aroma of freshly home baked goods.
Mom always used to bake copious amounts every week, since I can remember, for our local homeless shelter, church, fire station and the police station. The fire station and police station 'cause apparently, I gave them so much 'grief.'
Yeah right. I was – am – a fucking angel. I can see my halo balancing on my horns right now.
Anyhow.
Tracey, my soon to be ex mother-in-law, prepared the meals. Mom always believed they needed a sweet treat after their meals. The least we can do, is provide them with some scrumptious dessert and that's what we did.
I dodge a dark wood table in the entrance with a small turquoise bowl filled with unique shells that we've accumulated over the years.
"Of course, I did. You and daddy refuse to come to New York. I haven't seen my parents in seven years, mama, seven."
