CHAPTER 30
Olivia
I shift the container of red velvet cupcakes in my lap as we drive through Laurel Creek to my childhood home. I didn’t really have time to bake today, but my mom loves red velvet and when I get nervous I bake.
We’re having dinner in town but, since I never bring men home, my parents want us to meet them at their house so we can all leave together for the restaurant.
As their neighborhood comes into view, nostalgia settles within me and happy memories of me learning to ride my bike—during summer nights just like this—make my heart squeeze. When we turn onto my parents’ street, Asher whistles. “This is beautiful.”
He takes in the canopy of trees that meet in the middle over the long street.
Large, stately homes sit back on their properties; many of them boast winding driveways, beautiful lawns, and manicured gardens.
It’s not the wealthiest part of town—that’s where Ginger grew up—but it’s close. Safe and quiet.
“My parents have owned this house since the street was new in the early nineties. Back then this was an average-priced home for two working-class people.”
Asher nods as he watches a mom push a baby stroller along the road. She walks behind another child trundling along on his tricycle. He can’t be more than three.
“No going back now,” I mutter under my breath as Asher pulls into my parents’ driveway and cuts the engine.
He turns to face me, and the way he’s looking at me now is the same way he looked at me when he pulled up to my cabin twenty minutes ago.
Heated, and I’m having a hard time fitting it into this “friends only” pact we’ve made.
It doesn’t help that he looks absolutely incredible.
He’s usually in jeans and black T-shirts, or sometimes in his uniform, so when I see the effort he made to share this news with my parents, it takes my damn breath away.
His white fitted button-down hugs his body in all the right places, and he’s paired it with navy chinos, a brown belt, and brown boots.
I nervously suck in a breath because the flash of the curtain in the front window tells me my parents already know we’re here. I move to unbuckle my seatbelt, but Asher stops me, taking my hand in his own, his presence as ominous and commanding as ever.
“You and me here. Yeah?” He squeezes lightly.
I nod and swallow down my anxiety. “Yeah.”
God, I fucking hope so.
“What a nice surprise,” my mother says with a happy, yet clearly confused, tone as she opens the door to me with Asher.
“Nice to see you again, Chief Reed,” my father says, extending his hand for shaking.
Asher takes it and pumps it firmly. “Please call me Asher. It’s good to see you too, sir. This time in better circumstances.”
“Now, that is true.” My father chuckles. His white hair is shorter than when I last saw him and I know my mother made him get a haircut, which means she also had no idea what to expect when I said I was bringing someone.
“These are for you, Mrs. Sutton.” Asher’s voice is low and full of gravel as he hands my mom a beautiful bunch of lavender and wildflowers from the fields at his house.
“Lynn and Ken, please,” she insists. “And thank you. These are gorgeous.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Asher tells her. “They’re from the fields that surround my home.”
His affluent, albeit horrendous, upbringing is front and center of my mind as he speaks. It’s obvious that he knows how to turn on the charm—despite his usual brooding manner—and I find myself wanting to unravel the mystery that is Asher Reed even more.
“Oh, even more lovely,” my mom says, disappearing into the house for a moment to put the flowers in water.
An awkward moment of silence hangs between us when my mom returns, and my parents look at me. They have no idea why Laurel Creek’s fire chief is in their foyer.
“Okay, well, now that we’re all on a first-name basis,” I say nervously, turning to set the cupcakes on the entry table.
In my haste, my heel catches on the rug and I almost fall.
Panic hits my chest as Asher’s strong arms steady me and I manage to keep my cupcakes upright.
No one says anything as I blow my hair out of my face and look up to the ceiling.
“You have no idea how often I have to do that,” Asher jokes, and my parents laugh.
“I had stocks in Band-Aid Corporation while Olivia was growing up,” my mom adds, taking the container of treats from me. Everyone chuckles as I blush pink.
“Glad my clumsiness could help break the ice.” I shrug. Maybe Asher’s right and I do need that bubble wrap after all?
“Well, on that note, let me just pop these here.” She sets the cupcakes down on the table that I had been aiming for. “We can have them for dessert. Shall we go?”
My mom tucks her arm into mine, leaving Asher with my father as we head down the driveway. I glance back over my shoulder at him and he winks in reassurance. I hope he’s ready for Lynn and Ken.
Dolcetto’s Ristorante is bustling—just as one would expect for a balmy summer night—as we’re seated on the patio shaded from the last of the day’s sun.
On the way here, Asher spoke to my father about the custom cherry banister and staircase in our family home.
The woodworking in my parents’ house is my dad’s pride and joy, so it doesn’t surprise me that they’re already off to a good conversational start by the time we take our seats.
My dad suggests that he and Asher head up to the massive bar area in the restaurant to view the craft beer on offer.
I look around in a bid to settle my nerves; I already felt the nosey eyes of at least two people I went to high school with when I entered the building with Chief Asher Reed.
“He’s hunky,” my mom says with a little shimmy when we’re alone.
“ Mother. ” I laugh.
“Well, he is. I never had a thing for tattoos, but I must say—”
“The food smells so good in here, doesn’t it?
” I interject to keep my mother from reminding me how hot the man is.
I definitely don’t need that reminder. She laughs as I survey the space again.
It’s a really pretty setting; most of the walls boast rustic exposed brick, and twinkling string lights decorate the charming patio we’re sitting on.
Dolcetto’s is Laurel Creek’s number one first-date spot.
“I wish you would’ve told me this was the official ‘meet the parents’ dinner.” My mother winks at me before she picks up the menu. “I would’ve been more prepared.”
My father’s deep guffaw from the bar makes us both pause, and with it a low chuckle from Asher.
I watch him for a moment. The smile he wears as he chats to my dad like they’re old friends is something I wouldn’t have been able to dream up a few months ago.
I have to remind myself this is Asher. The man I’ve felt drawn to, but have also been slightly afraid of, for over two years.
Turning back to my mom, I want to correct her and say this isn’t a “meet the parents” dinner.
But for fear of getting into a “what the hell is he doing here then” conversation before I’m ready, I decide not to say anything as my father heads back over to us, leaving Asher at the bar.
I take the opportunity to sneak a glance at him.
He’s looking down at his phone, silencing it with a grimace, and I wonder briefly who could make him look even more irritated than normal.
“I’ll just grab our drinks at the bar, Lynnie,” my dad says now, leaning down to kiss my mom’s cheek. “We can get the next ones with dinner.”
My parents’ love is enviable after over thirty years.
“Asher likes the good stuff.” My dad hikes a thumb over his shoulder. “We’re gonna get a Brown Bourbon Ale. What do you two want?”
My mother looks up at me with a smile. “California red?” she asks. This is something we always order when we’re together, but the thought of it now turns my stomach.
When I shrug and say “I’m gonna just stick to sparkling water tonight,” my parents both look at me suspiciously.
“Are you feeling okay?” my mother asks, worried. The peo ple at the table next to us glance over at the tone of her voice.
“Yes, Mom, I’m fine. I just don’t want any wine tonight,” I reply as quietly as I can.
“Not even a tiny bit? For tradition’s sake?”
“I’m not having any …” I stammer.
“I can’t …” “ Can’t? ” she asks way too loudly. All her attention is on me, and I can all but see her spidey senses tingling. “Why can’t you—?”
Her eyes drop to my stomach, then back up to my face. Fuck.
“Oh my gosh!” Her hands fly to her mouth as she gasps. “Olivia Renee Sutton!” She whisper-yells, though not quietly enough. The people next to us glance at us again, as well as one of those girls I went to school with.
This is my nightmare.
My father says nothing, and he doesn’t look as happy as my mom.
“You’re pregnant?” His voice has an edge to it, as he looks toward the bar where Asher is still standing. The silence between us while they wait for my answer is deafening.
“How long have you even known each other? Are you in love?” he asks hopefully.
“I mean … this wasn’t planned,” I mutter as Sandy from the Sage and Salt pats my dad on the shoulder on her way to take a seat two tables over.
My mother starts to giggle, and it’s a weird, excited sound that makes even more people look at us.
But my eyes don’t leave my dad’s as my heart squeezes in my chest for him.
Something I wasn’t prepared for in all my planning for tonight was seeing all the dreams he’s talked about with me die in his eyes at the thought of this pregnancy being some sort of frivolous mistake.
A result from a one-night hookup. My dad is seventy years old and very traditional, especially where I’m concerned.
He’s talked about walking me down the aisle so many times, and daydreamed about the day I tell him he’s going to be a grandpa.
I freeze, panicking as I sit here by myself, with no sound, reasonable mind to stop me.
I look my mother then my father straight in the eyes and smile. “Yes, of course we’re in love.”
I see my father instantly relax, and his eyes fill with something new. Happiness.
“I’m going to be a grandpa?” he asks.
I nod, a tight smile on my face. “Well, then I guess we’ve got some things to celebrate, don’t we?!” he says.
“We didn’t mean to. I mean we weren’t expecting …” I start.
“Oh, honey, we’re not prudes. We know what it’s like to be young.
” My mom stands and comes around to my side of the table.
She clings to me, so I don’t even have time to take it back and tell them the truth, nor do I have the guts to.
“The main thing is that you have someone to share it with and you’re in love.
Oh, this is wonderful! We have to congratulate the father-to-be. ”
Oh God.
My mother doesn’t let go as my father makes his way over to Asher, and I realize after he hands my dad his beer that my dad has just congratulated him.
His eyes meet mine and I really, really hope he’ll go along with my lie, at least until I can figure out another answer that won’t break my father’s heart.