Heart Improvement: A Brooklyn Heights Bachelor Romance

Chapter 20 - Scott

The car stops in front of my parents’ house.

There is nowhere to park—not unusual—so we hop out quickly. But not quickly enough for the guy behind us. He voices his displeasure by laying on his horn, loud and long.

Chelsea jumps. I grab her arm and pull her onto the sidewalk. She’s clinging to the box from the bakery like it’s a life raft.

I start towards the front door but she doesn’t move. I want to say something reassuring, but I have no idea what. Then I realize she’s not stalling, she studying the house. I look at it too.

It’s the most familiar thing in the world to me, but it’s nothing special. Some brick on the fa?ade but mostly white siding. My mom keeps the small yard neat, but she hasn’t planted flowers in years.

When I was a kid, my dad never had the time to fix up stuff around our house. He was always working, and my mom understood that he didn’t want to come home and do the same jobs evenings and weekends. Occasionally something would drive her crazy enough that she’d get him to do it. Even simple things, a loose cabinet door, for example, seemed to take years. Once I was in seventh or eighth grade, I started doing those smaller jobs myself.

Now that my dad’s mostly retired—he still helps out people in the neighborhood with projects—the house looks much better, inside and out. Last time he painted the trim around the windows my mom asked him to make it black. It didn’t make much of a difference. And once you step inside it’s all ‘Welcome to the 80s.’ Right down to the Formica counter tops and the wallpaper borders in every room.

“Come on.”

I walk up the short walk to the front door hoping Chelsea will follow me. I ring the bell before using my key to let us in.

“Mom, Dad,” I yell as I open the door. “It needs updating,” I mutter to Chelsea. “It’s—”

“Scott!”

My mother’s delight is obvious. I don’t bother to come out here very often. I usually get them an Uber and take them out to dinner. The last time I was here was Christmas. That’s required. Sleeping in my old twin bed and everything.

“Dan, Scott’s here. With?”

She looks at Chelsea, smiling widely.

“Mom, this is Chelsea.”

“I brought some cookies,” she says, holding out the box.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that. Dan!”

“Right here.”

My father appears in the doorway at the end of the hall.

“Scott’s here.”

“I can see that.”

“And this is Chelsea.”

My mom is so thrilled she’s practically bouncing up and down. Maybe this will be easy. Maybe she’ll be happy about the engagement. Of course when we break it off…shit.

“Come in, come in.”

We head through the kitchen and out onto the three-season porch. Chelsea looks over the seating. Rattan furniture with large floral prints. She goes to sit down in one of the chairs.

“No there,” my mom says pointing. “In the loveseat.”

Oh god.

Chelsea sits down and I take the spot next to her without being told. My parents sit in the chairs, but then my mom jumps back up.

“Let me get a plate. And some drinks. Dan, help me.”

My dad hadn’t bothered to sit down yet. He and my mom leave.

“It’s going well,” I whisper.

“Define well.”

Chelsea sets the box down on the coffee table and turns to me.

“What do you want to drink what is that?”

My mom reaches across the table and grabs Chelsea’s hand. Her left hand.

“You’re…engaged?”

She tries to feign happiness but doesn’t quite manage to pull it off. There’s a bit of shock mixed in. I can practically see the thought bubble over her head. She’s been wanting me to get married for ages. I assume she wants grandchildren too, although—thank my lucky stars—she never mentions that. But I’m pretty sure she never imagined meeting her future daughter-in-law for the very first time after I popped the question.

“Mrs. Howell—”

“Call me Ronnie,” my mom says automatically.

“Mom, Dad, sit down,” I say firmly. “We need to talk.”

“You’re engaged?” my mom says.

“Yes.”

I look at my dad. He seems determined to keep his mouth shut. I know he’ll form an opinion about what we’re about to tell him. But he’ll mull it over for about a week first. And then he might not bother to voice said opinion.

“How?”

“Scott told you about the design show?” Chelsea’s voice is strong, surprisingly.

“What does that have to do with you getting engaged? And not telling us. Not telling us anything and then showing up here out of the blue engaged.”

“We were dating but the show wanted us to be a couple. Like a serious couple. We decided it was fate telling us something. So we got engaged.”

“I was ready to ask her, really,” I say. “I just figured it was too soon. I didn’t want to scare her off.”

“We are going to be engaged a long time,” Chelsea says. “Take our time. Get to know each other a lot better.”

“The show wants wedding stuff.”

“Wedding stuff?”

The words sound a bit strangled, like my mom had trouble forming them. She turns to my dad.

“Dan, are you hearing this?”

He nods but that’s it.

“We got carried away, we admit that. But we were just so excited about the show. Chelsea’s going to FIT for interior design—”

“And Scott—”

I tap her foot with mine. My parents don’t know I’ve always wanted to get back to Hollywood. They let me get the acting degree, but suggested I get a minor in business. They’ve never said anything specific about it, but when the movie was a huge hit, I could tell they were not that comfortable with all the attention I was getting. And there were frequent comments about how Ron Howard was the only kid to ever make it out of Hollywood unscathed.

Chelsea clears her throat.

“He’s a wonderful man, your son. Kind and smart and…I really do feel like we are meant to be together. I mean we mesh perfectly on everything. Working together on the designs for the show I felt like I found my business soulmate too.”

I look at her. She’s really selling it. And she’s so realistic. I didn’t know she could act. Maybe she should come to Hollywood with me.

“It’s a lot to take in,” my mom says.

“I know and I’m sorry.” I take both of Chelsea’s hands in mine and kiss one of them. “But once you get to know her, you’re going to love her as much as I do. I promise.”

“Oh,” Chelsea says in a small voice.

My mom just keeps staring at us. My dad inspects his nails.

“I’m sorry,” Chelsea says. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, both of you. And now you’re upset and…”

Her voice cracks. My dad looks up, right at me. He doesn’t say anything, but I can practically hear his thoughts.

Is she going to cry?

I don’t know, maybe,I think back.

Well, do something.

What?

“Oh, honey.” My mom leans over and puts her hand on Chelsea’s knee. “Don’t cry. Really, it’s okay.”

Chelsea sniffs loudly.

“It is a bit of a shock,” my mom says. “But you guys should…stay for dinner.” She looks at me and I can tell it’s not a request. “We’ll have the pastries for dessert. That will be nice, right?”

“Thank you,” Chelsea says, with another sniff.

“So, you come and help me make a salad, okay?”

“Sure.”

Whew,my dad and I both think.

“So how is the project?” he asks me.

“Slow. Kind of annoying to have to schedule around the filming.”

I fill him in on the details, relieved to have something other than my engagement to talk about. By the time we sit down to eat things seem, well, maybe not normal, but we are heading in that direction.

My mom keeps looking back and forth between me and Chelsea, but she’s smiling. My dad concentrates solely on his food. Doesn’t get more normal than that.

My mom insists we take most of the cookies home with us. She says we are younger and can handle the calories. She hugs Chelsea as well as me when we leave.

“That went well,” I say as we climb into the back seat of the Uber.

“They are really nice.”

“You don’t have to say that—”

“I’m not. I mean it.”

Traffic is light so we make good time back to Brooklyn Heights. No time for Chelsea to fall asleep on my shoulder, unfortunately. Or maybe she’s too tense from the time with my parents. I know I am.

“Do you want to come up?” I ask when we get out of the car. “I feel like I could use a beer.”

She shakes her head.

“I need to call home. Ken is going to want to call my parents and Sam tomorrow, I’m sure of it.”

“We can stall.”

She shakes her head again.

“That type, he’s like a…rat terrier. He’ll just grab onto your pants leg and not let go, no matter what.”

I can’t help it, I laugh. Ken does have a bit of a terrier face. She smiles back, weakly.

“Besides if they are going to come here next week, I can’t put it off. I’m calling them tonight. My parents first, then Sam.”

“Do you want me to come in? For moral support, I mean.”

She shakes her head with another sad smile.

I let her go, waiting until I hear her lock all the locks before heading up the stairs. I can’t imagine how it will go with her parents. I guess I’ll find out tomorrow. Right now, I definitely want something stronger than a beer.