In another life, I would make you stay
So I don't have to say you were
The one that got away
The one that got away
"Hi, sweetheart," Gloria greeted Stefani as she entered the kitchen. "We didn't get a chance to catch up yesterday. How are you, honey? How're your parents?"
Inwardly, Bradley was both relieved and mildly amused at his mother's timing. She was completely unaware of the tense moment she'd interrupted and Stefani being Stefani, didn't reveal otherwise, graciously bending at the waist to give her a warm hug.
"I'm really good. Mom and Dad are, too. Just spoke to them, actually, and they send their love. How are you, Gloria? You look wonderful."
The way she continually respected and adored his mother had always made him incredibly happy. They got along from the get go and he loved the easy rapport they shared.
"I'm doing well," the older woman grasped both of Stefani's hands in hers. "It's so good to see you again. I miss seeing that beautiful face around here." She snuck a glance at her son, "we both do."
He hid his smile under a cough, covering his mouth. Gloria wasn't in the least bit subtle but Stefani smiled. "Same goes for me. Are you going to join us for dinner? Looks like Bradley made enough to feed an army."
He had to wonder if she was nervous, too, about what he wanted to say. Having his mother eat with them certainly would buy time.
"Oh, no, dear. I'm not overly hungry at the moment. Besides, I'm sure you have plenty to catch up on." She squeezed her hands again, "but please, if you have some time, come by again before the weekend. I'd love to make you some lunch and I know for a fact Lea would be over the moon to see you."
Stefani kissed her again, "of course! I'd absolutely love that."
"Well, good. It's settled, then." Gloria turned to Bradley. "Have a delicious dinner."
When she'd departed, he turned back to Stefani, exhaling, hands on his hips. "Well...that was something, wasn't it?"
She smiled. "I love your mother. She's the sweetest."
A silence followed and clearing his throat, he twisted the nearby dishtowel in his hands. "Stef..."
"Bradley..."
The fact they'd both begun to speak at the same time shouldn't have come as a surprise, not after years of being in near perfect synchrony, in multiple aspects, but it still managed to render them both a little speechless.
"Sorry," he said with a sheepish smile, "you go."
"No, no," she shook her head, "I was just going to say, I know you wanted to talk about some things before your mom came in, so..."
"Oh," he started and stopped, biting his lower lip. "On second thought, talking on an empty stomach never helped anything." He glanced over to gauge her reaction, "do you wanna eat first?"
The relief at the reprieve was written all over her face. "Yes, please. Honestly, I wasn't sure how much of a conversation we could have when your gravy smells that incredible. I would've been distracted."
Smiling, he made his way back to the stove. "Well, that settles that. Lemme just plate everything up."
"Can I help?"
"Sure, do you want to slice some of the bread over there?" He pointed to the loaf sitting on the nearby counter. "Do you remember where the knives are?"
Her mouth upturned as she retrieved it. "I remember every inch of this kitchen, B."
The way she said it sent him immediately flashing to memories of lots of cooking together, always punctuated with laughter. Tears, too. How distraught she'd been over her failing relationship with Christian, external and internal pressures at the time. She'd spent hours over his place and he'd spent just as much time at hers. The kitchen seemed to be their focal point; a place where they could simply just be, an entire world apart from their respective difficulties.
