SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL, J.HUGHES

FORTY TWO

The doorbell rings, and my heart skips a beat. Jack and his family are here.

Mom smiles warmly. "I'll get it," she says, heading to the door.

I smooth my dress nervously, exchanging a glance with Juliette, who gives me an encouraging nod. I'm not really nervous about seeing Jack's parents; it's more about our parents meeting again. There's something oddly stressful about it.

Mom opens the door, greeting Jack and his parents with her usual warmth. "Welcome! We're so glad you could join us."

Jack steps in, carrying a couple of large containers of food, his parents and Luke following behind with friendly smiles. He first hugs my mother, but his eyes never leave mine, making me feel a little fluttery inside.

"Hey," I say, stepping forward to greet him.

"Hey," he replies, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. "Brought the essentials," he adds, nodding to the containers.

"You're a lifesaver," I laugh, taking one of the containers from him.

"Hi, honey, your apartment is really amazing," says Ellen, taking off her coat and looking around appreciatively.

I smile, feeling a little bashful. "Thanks, but it could use a good clean," I say, brushing off the compliment.

Jack's dad, Jim, steps in, shaking hands with my dad. "Nice place you've got here. Cozy and welcoming."

I smile slightly, helping them hang their coats in the closet. My dad then offers everyone a drink, which they all happily accept, letting me show off my old bartending skills. You know, it's like riding a bike—you never really forget how to do it. It's in your muscle memory.

I head to the kitchen, pulling out the cocktail shaker and a selection of bottles. "What's everyone having?" I ask, lining up glasses on the counter.

"I'll take a Manhattan," says Jim with a grin.

"Oh, you're a Manhattan fan, Jim," I chuckle as I shake the shaker.

"Of course he is, he grew up in a little suburb nearby," Luke chimes in, sliding up beside me.

I nod towards Ellen, who watches us with a smile from the corner of the room.

Ellen nods back, "A glass of white wine for me, please."

Jack leans casually against the counter, his eyes fixed on me with an amused look. "Surprise me," he says.

I nod, getting to work. The familiar motions of measuring, shaking, and pouring flow effortlessly, and soon I'm handing out drinks. "One Manhattan," I say, passing Jim his glass. "And a nice Chardonnay for you, Ellen."

I slide Jack a concoction I whipped up on the spot—a blend of bourbon and ginger ale with a twist of lime. "Try this," I offer, raising an eyebrow.

He takes a sip and nods approvingly. "You still got it," he says, winking at me.

I smile at Jack's compliment, feeling a rush of warmth. "Glad you like it," I reply, trying to keep my tone casual despite the butterflies in my stomach.

The evening flows smoothly from there. We gather in the cozy living room, plates of food spread out on the coffee table as we chat and laugh. Jack's parents and mine exchange stories like old friends, and I catch Jack stealing glances at me throughout the evening, his smile growing each time our eyes meet.

As the night winds down, I find myself beside Jack on the couch, our fingers casually brushing against each other.

"Jack? You made all of this food?" Juliette asks, taking a bite of a neatly assembled sandwich. I turn to him, raising an eyebrow skeptically.