Chapter 24
24
THE DREADED DINNER WITH MY PARENTS had arrived. I sat in Jazz Fest traffic on the interstate, creeping my way to my parents’ house in Old Metairie. Thankfully I’d added in enough time to account for the congestion I now sat in. Hopefully Micah had done the same. Although we’d wanted to ride together, I’d attended a function for an organization specializing in destination weddings in New Orleans. With that time constraint, it made sense just to meet at my parents’.
I eased my foot off the brake, crawling forward. To my left, the green metal rooftops of Xavier University contrasted against the pink and orange tones in the sky from the setting sun. My gaze returned to the bumper of the vehicle in front of me, the events of the past week playing through my mind.
Death had come to the café. And unfortunately, it hadn’t been Cést Fou. The deep fryer that had been on its last leg had finally given up the ghost, and Monday had yet again held on to its title as evilest day of the week. Instead of working on the business plan for my potential silent partner, I’d spent the morning haggling over a new fryer. The bright side was that the appliance had been in place in time for the Jazz Fest rush that had begun Thursday. The dark side was the debt that had been added to my shoulders and credit score, looming heavy ever since.
Something gold glinted on the dashboard. I bent forward, my seatbelt pulling against my torso. A fleck of glitter in the shape of a starfish. How in the world had that gotten in here? A bubble of lightness broke through at the thought of Micah. I hadn’t seen him since last Saturday night. He’d brought over two bags of groceries, he and Hayley making shepherd’s pie while I’d sat at the kitchen table, registering for every viable networking event I could attend up until July Fourth. My smile faded. The most lucrative function for this week had been yesterday evening, which meant I’d had to bail on my beignet date with Julia.
The Airline Drive exit came into view, and I eased onto it, sailing the rest of the way. I pulled into my parents’ driveway and killed the engine. No sign of Micah. I pulled two packets of travel Tums from my purse. One for each of us to get us through the evening. I’d already put a serious dent in my roll on the drive over.
I glanced at my cell. 6:51 p.m . Dinner started sharply at seven. That’s fine . He would pull up any second now, and we’d stroll up to my parents’ door together with minutes to spare.
I turned in my seat, looking up and down the street. What was that old saying Mawmaw had always used? A watched pot never boils? I faced forward. Stop being ridiculous. He’ll be here. He knows how important this is. Each night this week we’d either texted or spoken on the phone, Micah assuring me he hadn’t acquired a black eye or broken nose at jiujitsu.
6:53 p.m . The backs of my knees began sweating. I checked my device, ensuring the ringer was on. Although Mama irritated me to no end, I didn’t want to give her anything else to hold over my head. Our tumultuous bond already hung by an unraveling thread, especially since our last meal with her picking on Hayley.
Hayley . I opened the tracking app on her phone and found her pulsing dot at home. She’d offered to come tonight—talk about self-sacrificing—but I’d declined. If Micah couldn’t handle the full force of Mama, better to know now than months or years into our relationship.
6:55 p.m . Popping another Tums, I sucked the sugarcoating, glad I’d splurged for the more tasty candy version. I swiped my finger across my phone’s screen and selected my favorites shortcut to call Micah.
The front door to the house swung open, Mama emerging.
Sarah McLachlan.
I shoved the Tums in the pocket of my full skirt, pulled my keys from the ignition, and grabbed my purse.
Mama moved onto the walkway, wearing a cream sheath dress with three-quarter-length sleeves. Beige pumps and her signature nude panty hose completed her ensemble. Her critical expression swept the driveway and street.
Exiting my car, I couldn’t help but scan the road too, my stomach sinking a little deeper. I placed my keys in my purse and ensured my sleeveless lavender top was tucked perfectly in at my waist.
“You’re alone.” She skimmed my outfit, her eyes narrowing the slightest bit at my legs. Probably because I wasn’t wearing vile panty hose.
“I had a function to attend, so Micah and I agreed to meet here.”
“And he knows dinner is at seven?”
“He does.”
She sniffed. “So much for punctuality.”
I shifted from one heel to the other. Unfortunately, I couldn’t disagree with her in this moment. And it wouldn’t aid to point out he’d been punctual the times he’d met up with me and Hayley. An SUV drove by, lifting my hopes, only to keep going. What seemed like a cloud of doom floated in, hovering over me. I shot Micah a quick text, asking if he was okay. Had he been an unreliable wolf in sheep’s clothing those other occasions?
Mama turned for the door. “We’re not waiting out here for him like some backwoods porch hounds.”
I followed, breathing in her trail of Chanel perfume. My belly churned, and I popped another Tums. In the foyer, I set my purse on a side table and slipped my phone into my other pocket.
Mama continued on, her pumps clicking against the marble floors. “We’re having appetizers in the parlor.”
Okay. That was good. It’d give Micah extra time. Missing appetizers wasn’t nearly as bad as arriving late to the actual dinner, especially if he brought flowers for Mama like I’d suggested. I chewed the final bit of antacid. We entered the parlor, a palette of whites and creams, a room screaming no children lived here. A room Mama hadn’t allowed Hayley in until last year. And even then, she’d watched her like a hawk, as though Hayley would produce a pack of markers and go wild.
Daddy stood from a pearl-hued wingback chair, holding a whiskey glass. His white button-down and tan slacks blended with the room. Mama loved color cohesiveness. Goodness knew she probably still set his clothes out every morning. His gaze swept from Mama to me, then to the empty space behind me, his forehead creasing. “He’s not coming?”
“He’s on the way.” I crossed the off-white Persian rug and kissed Daddy’s smooth cheek, catching the scent of aftershave and liquor.
Mama made a big show of lifting her arm and staring at the watch on her wrist. “My bet is he’s not coming.”
The Tiffany & Co. clock on the fireplace mantle read six fifty-nine. “He’ll be here.” Lord, please let him make it. And if there’s an emergency happening, please let everything be okay. I took a seat on the antique settee upholstered in cream fabric. The coffee table between us held a serving tray of what resembled canned cat food smeared on crackers. Paté. I inwardly cringed.
Mama moved to the built-ins surrounding the fireplace, adjusting an ivory vase. “Better to know exactly the type of man he is now rather than later.”
“If he’s late, there’s a logical reason.” I slipped my hand in my pocket, running my fingers along the roll of Tums. Only one remained in my pack. “I don’t understand the rush to meet him anyway.”
“I want to get to know the man you were hurling yourself at in public.”
My breath whooshed out. “I wasn’t hurling myself at him. We were having a private conversation in my office.” I peered at Daddy, who’d retaken his seat, studying the drink in his hand, bowing out of the discussion. Big surprise . I pulled on the Landry Mask. “Need I remind you I’m an adult, and I make my own choices.”
“Need I remind you Hayley is a minor, and my granddaughter, and it’s my responsibility to ensure she’s not exposed to untoward things.”
A cold tingle broke across my skin. “Hayley is not your responsibility.”
“It still stands she shouldn’t be around inappropriateness.” She clasped her hands before her, superiority in her posture.
I hauled in a slow breath, eased to my feet, and approached the back windows overlooking their landscaped lawn and garden. God, please help me from throttling my mother. You and I know the truth, and that’s all that matters.
Daddy pushed to standing, carrying his empty glass to the cocktail cart.
I unpeeled my last Tums, sticking the antacid in my mouth.
“What are you eating?” Mama asked. “Candy? Do you realize how rude that is?”
Daddy poured himself another scotch.
Mama tsked. “Though I suppose what’s really rude is your new boyfriend keeping us waiting.”
Heat spread up my neck. I chewed and swallowed . “You make it sound like I have a different guy every week.” I pointed my finger to the coffered ceilings, also painted white. “Let the record show Micah Guidry is the first man I’ve dated in over a decade.”
Mama rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so theatrical.”
“Well,” Daddy said, “I guess Ryan was right.”
My hand fell to my side. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Mama tugged at one of her sleeves. “He warned us.”
I gave a slow blink. And another. “First of all, why are y’all still in touch with him?”
“He’s been in our lives since you were teenagers.” Daddy returned to his seat, easing into it with a slight groan. “We see his parents from time to time at different functions. It makes sense to catch up with him every once in a while.”
I scoffed. “Does it? Don’t you remember what he did to me?”
Mama shot Daddy a glance.
“What was that look?” I neared, stopping behind the antique settee.
“It’s nothing.” Mama lowered onto the other wingback, primly crossing her legs at her ankles.
I grasped the wooden trim on the sofa. “It’s something.”
“Honestly, Katherine, can’t we have one dinner in peace?” Mama smoothed a crease on her dress.
I outright stared at her. “Are you actually giving Ryan a pass for what he did to me?”
Mama released a sigh. “He’d already seen how involved you were caring for your grandma those final years of her life. Did you expect him to play second fiddle to Hayley too?”
My grip on the edge of the settee tightened, disbelief cutting through me. “You’re giving me whiplash. One minute you’re concerned with Hayley being around ‘inappropriateness,’ the next you’re referring to her as less important than Ryan.”
“No,” Mama said. “We’ve always desired the best for you and Hayley. That was why we wanted custody of her. For her own sake and for yours, so Ryan would stay. You can hardly blame him for leaving.”
My head spun at the outrageousness of her words. Of her defending him. If she couldn’t see him for the jerk he was in the past, maybe she could in the present. “Can you hardly blame him now for wanting to copy my café? For wanting to steal Mawmaw’s and Claire’s recipes?”
Daddy flinched. “That can’t be right.”
“Oh, but it can. Did he tell y’all why he’s back in town?”
Mama fingered her necklace. “To open another restaurant for Paul Rodgers.”
“To take the location I want. The place Claire loved. He plans to imitate Beignets & Books. I have a long list of how he used me in the past, and now he’s back, doing it again.”
A crease formed between Daddy’s brows. “Is this the same property you mentioned the last time you were here? The one in the French Quarter?”
“Yes.” I loosened my hold on the settee.
He studied his drink, tipping his glass one way and then another.
My phone dinged with a new text. I pulled it from my pocket.
Micah
An emergency came up with my dad. I’m so sorry.
My heart sank to my stomach.
Kate
Is everything okay? Do you need help?
Micah
He fell. From what I can tell, it’s not bad. Waiting to see if anything swells or really starts hurting. Renee’s out of town, so I have to be here. Please apologize to your parents.
Kate
Of course! Don’t worry about dinner. Let me know if you need anything. Sending up a prayer.
“Well?” Mama asked.
I returned my phone to my pocket, grateful I still had Micah’s pack of Tums. “Micah sends his apologies. There’s an emergency with his dad.”
Daddy lowered his glass to his knee. “What kind of emergency?”
“His dad had a fall.”
“A fall?” Mama’s skeptical tone grated.
“He has osteoporosis,” I said. “A simple fall can be very damaging.”
“John Causey’s mother had advanced osteoporosis.” Daddy’s somber gaze turned inward. “In the end she required near-constant care with a live-in aide.”
Mama’s eyes narrowed on me. “What kind of osteoporosis does Micah’s dad have?”
Chin up. Chin up. “Advanced.”
“Does he have an aide? Or the ability to get one?” Her brows notched higher with each question.
“No. And no. Or at least, I’m not sure.”
The crow’s-feet around Mama’s eyes tightened. “So Micah has a fulltime job, and he’s also caring for his father? Has he asked you to help?”
“No.”
“Not yet.” She shot the words back. “Oh, Katherine. It’s like your grandma all over again. You’ll be trapped. How do you expect to have the time to open another restaurant while being dragged down by this man and his ailing father? Plus, your responsibilities to Hayley, which are already lackluster.”
She’d done it. Pushed my Hayley button. My vision tunneled on Mama.
She adjusted the watch on her wrist. “Your grandma trapped you and so will this man.”
I gritted my teeth, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “I loved Mawmaw. I wasn’t trapped with her.”
“Really,” she scoffed. “Changing her diapers? Bathing her? Rearranging your life around her?”
I unclenched my jaw. “At least you don’t have to worry about me doing those things for you.”
Silence exploded at the full meaning behind my statement.
Mama raised her chin. “Nor would I want you to.” She adjusted her sleeves. “I think we’ve had enough drama for the evening.” She stood, motioning toward the dining room. “Let’s eat and keep the conversation to polite topics.”
Daddy did what he’d always done best. He quietly followed her.
I rotated on my heel, purposely digging it into the rug, wishing I had gum stuck to the bottom of my shoe. Dessert had better be phenomenal to stick this night out.
Last night I dreamed of Mawmaw. A reliving of one of the more delusional moments she’d had toward the end. Anger had filled her wheezing words, along with a Kleenex box that flew past my head, followed by a remote control that had connected with my nose. Like in real life, it had started when I’d tried changing her diaper one evening. Our daytime caretaker had departed, and Claire had been on a date with Adrian.
I’d awoken with a jolt and tears in my eyes. Not wanting to return to sleep, I’d reread my last text exchange with Micah, grateful Mr. Gary was fine and his fall hadn’t resulted in any noticeable damage.
Five hours later, I sat in church between Julia and Hayley, rubbing the Crease, unable to concentrate on the sermon. I blamed the nightmare on Mama. Since leaving my parents’ last night, my row with her had played on repeat. What chafed worst of all was that there was some truth in her words. Between being a single parent and running the café, I was already stretched thin. Opening a second location right now was an ambitious venture that would stretch me even thinner. And then I’d gone and added Micah to the mix.
I was like a juggler. Keeping two balls in the air had been manageable. Hayley and the café. Adding a third ball with another location would be more challenging. Then somehow, Micah had slipped in, adding another ball to the rotation. And I shouldn’t be contemplating Mr. Gary’s future care, but there his ball loomed in my periphery, waiting to be thrown in. I had no idea how I’d handle it. Or if I even could emotionally.
Julia had said the beginning of a romance was supposed to be exciting and fun. So far I’d experienced a lot of uncertainty and a few good kisses. Scratch that. “Great kisses,” I muttered, pressing the Crease a little harder.
Julia glanced my way, her own crease puckering.
I shook my head and remained tightlipped the rest of the service.
Hayley and I arrived home and found Micah sitting on the back steps to the café. Lightness at witnessing his smiling face pulsed through me with each heartbeat. And the fact that he was here, and not with his dad, reiterated good news on that front.
With the restaurant closed on Sundays, all was quiet except for the water cascading from the fountain. A bouquet of wilted cream roses wrapped in paper lay on the table. No doubt the ones meant for my mom.
“Your dad still okay?”
“He is.” Micah pushed to his feet. “He’s currently at home watching The Sting .”
I chuckled. “He really does like poker, doesn’t he?”
“You have no idea.” He slid his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “I wanted to apologize again for last night. If—”
I raised my hand. “If you say you’re sorry one more time, I’m going to sock you in the gut.”
Hayley snorted. “Worst apology acceptance ever.”
“Because it’s not needed.” Movement from the live oak pulled my attention north, my muscles clenching. A blue jay hopped along a branch. I relaxed. There’d been no signs of Cést Fou since the morning of the winter wonderland. Maybe he and his flock had contracted a bird flu, and they’d all flown off and died somewhere. Or he’d somehow sensed the wildlife specialist coming tomorrow.
Hayley cocked her head at Micah. “My grandmother’s really going to hate you now.”
A deep sigh pushed from his lungs. “I’m aware.”
“Here.” I handed her my keys, purse, and Bible, and made a shooing motion.
With a teasing grin, she took the stairs, letting herself inside.
“So...” Micah edged a step closer.
I held up my finger.
Predictably, Hayley reappeared, carrying a squirming Precious down the stairs. The wrinkly dog gathered pets from Micah and me, then proceeded to do her business. Hayley scooped the pup into her arms. She shot a mischievous glance at Micah. “Don’t worry about my grandmother. She hates everyone.” With a chuckle, she disappeared inside.
I smothered a sigh. At least Hayley knew it wasn’t personal when it came to Mama’s behavior. I took the steps to the covered porch, moving out of the sun, and out of sight from Hayley if she happened to be spying from the second-floor windows.
“How do I make it right with your parents? Should I bring those to your mom today?” He cut a glance to the roses.
“Bring her wilting flowers? Not a good idea. Besides, she doesn’t deserve them.”
He eased onto the porch, leaning against a column. “How was last night?”
Sharp tension slid into my muscles. “I’m not ready to talk about it.”
“That bad, huh?”
I nodded, kneading the back of my neck. How could I tell him how truly awful Mama had been? I definitely couldn’t mention the opinions she’d voiced about Mr. Gary.
He pushed from the column, moving closer. “I’ve missed you. Seems like forever since I actually saw you.”
A flutter stirred in my belly, the tension within me lifting. “It’s only been eight days.”
One corner of his mouth tweaked. “Look who’s keeping track.”
My face warmed, and I rotated, grasping the porch railing, facing the courtyard.
He came up from behind, and gently, his fingers draped my shoulders, his hands gliding down. “I like it when you blush.” The huskiness in his voice vibrated through me like a delicious caress, the heat from his body pressing through the fabric of my dress.
Taking a steadying breath, I turned toward him.
He straightened, studying my face, his expression shifting to uncertainty. “You sure you don’t want to talk about what happened last night?”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Shook my head.
Tenderly, he kissed my temple. “Do y’all have plans for lunch?”
“Turkey sandwiches.”
Pulling his phone from his pocket, he checked the time. “Come on.” He tugged my hand. “We can do better than that.”
Fifteen minutes later found the three of us at the French Market, an open-air structure squeezed between the edge of the French Quarter and the Mississippi River. It was a combination of farmers market and eatery, with walk-up food stands featuring burgers, seafood po’boys, sweet and savory crepes, and snowballs. And for those tourists more daring culinary-wise, alligator was served a myriad of ways. Thankfully, we hadn’t had to wait long for one of the few round metal picnic tables to open.
We settled in, and I dug into my caprese crepe, savoring the warm mozzarella, tomato, and basil. The background noise of slow, steady traffic from the surrounding streets combined with a plethora of conversations from those in the market. My attention caught on a nearby vendor table. They sold handmade jewelry and had a sign propped on an easel touting their items as perfect Mother’s Day gifts.
Mother’s Day. Ugh. I swallowed my bite, my appetite dwindling. Next Sunday brought the annual holiday that loomed heavy in two opposite ways. The first being Mama. Long ago I’d given up trying to find a card for her that wasn’t a complete lie. I’d opted instead to have flowers delivered with a generic note. This year, I doubted that would even happen, or if I’d send anything to Daddy for Father’s Day.
The second heaviness to Mother’s Day was Claire. I gazed across the table at Hayley, who devoured her BLT crepe. Her big blue eyes absorbed our vibrant surroundings. People meandering with their purchases held in plastic bags, vendors haggling with shoppers over things from T-shirts to handcrafted tchotchkes and elaborate Mardi Gras masks. Next to me, Micah steadily ate his fried oyster po’boy, keeping an eye on the happenings around us. I took comfort in his presence. That I wasn’t alone with Hayley in such a chaotic environment.
My sights once again caught on that Mother’s Day sign. I lowered my crepe to my paper plate. After Claire had died, I’d secretly cried through the first few Mother’s and Father’s Days, mourning Hayley’s loss afresh. When she’d started school, I’d ensured her teachers were aware of her situation. And each year, before any in-class Mother’s and Father’s Day projects began, I’d gently prepare Hayley for it. Give her the opportunity to talk about her feelings and also give her the choice to do a different class activity or spend that time in the school library.
Hayley had always chosen to stick to the same projects as her classmates, and came home with the gifts she’d crafted. Hand-painted coasters, a trivet stamped with a fleur-de-lis pattern, a paperweight by way of a mini mason jar filled with colorful layers of sand. She’d given them to me, for both holidays, and I’d oohed and aahed over them. Telling her how much her mom and dad would’ve loved them. How much I loved them.
A truck horn blared on the road next to us, momentarily garnering everyone’s attention. The vehicle rumbled on its way, and a street performer playing a saxophone transitioned the area to smoother melodies.
Once Hayley had hit fifth grade, she’d told me we didn’t need to have the annual prep talks or do anything special on those days. And so I’d honored her request. Treated those two Sundays a year as any other Sundays. I’d still sought opportunities to organically bring Claire and Adrian up, and reassure her it was okay to talk about them. But she never really wanted to contribute to the conversations or showed much interest.
With Micah, though, it was different. He never shied away from talking about his mom. And sitting here with him, knowing his past with her, my heart ached for another reason.
I reached for my tea, taking a cool, cleansing sip through the straw, and turned my attention to him. “Do you do anything special for Mother’s Day?”
He casually shook his head, finishing his bite. “Not anymore.” He reached for a napkin from the pile I’d set at the middle of the table and wiped his mouth. “The first few Mother’s Days my dad, sister, and I made it a point to spend the day together, but it was hard. Felt too forced. And once I moved to Colorado...” He lifted a shoulder. “I just spend some time on those days thanking God for the years I had with her.”
“That’s sort of what I do,” Hayley said.
I stilled.
“I mean, the thanking God part. I thank Him for her, that I was born, and for my aunt.”
“That’s so nice.” I somehow managed to string the words together, emotion rapidly building within me.
She cast a glance to me, the hint of an uncertain smile forming, and returned her focus to Micah. “I do the same on Father’s Day.” She took a swig of her canned Barq’s and continued eating, as if she hadn’t just shaken my world in the best way possible.
An overpowering wave of elation washed through me. But knowing how Hayley was, and not wanting to make a big deal out of her revelation, I had to hold it together. Play it cool.
Micah reached beneath the table, his hand finding mine. He gently squeezed my fingers, passing strength to me I didn’t know I needed until that very moment. Silence stretched, needing to be filled, but I couldn’t speak for fear I’d start blubbering. I glanced at Micah, and his returning expression shifted from pleased to what I could only describe as awkward concern. And yet I still couldn’t tamp down the geyser of joy building throughout my chest and expanding up my throat. His handsome face blurred as unshed tears invaded my vision. I clasped his hand like a vise.
“Um...” He straightened. “For Father’s Day, we get together for my dad.” His voice pitched unusually loud, no doubt to distract Hayley from noticing my overemotional reaction. “Even when I lived in Colorado, I made the trip in. Yup. We’d gather at my sister’s place. Eat lots of food. Play cornhole, poker.”
I sucked in my unshed tears like nobody’s business and eased in a calming breath.
Thankfully, a woman with a massive dog walked past, garnering all of Hayley’s attention. The lady stopped several feet away at a wooden cart filled with watercolors of different New Orleans scenes. She began perusing.
“Can I?” Hayley jutted a thumb in the dog’s direction, already rising from the table.
I nodded with a smile.
Micah and I watched Hayley ask the woman if she could pet the dog, and then proceed to lavish love on the animal. I rested my head against Micah’s shoulder, holding his hand with both of mine. He’d rescued me. In a poignant way I hadn’t expected. “Thank you for that.”
He placed a kiss to my forehead. “You looked like you were about to burst. I guess that was all new info.”
“It was.” I straightened with a sniffle, pulling myself together. “It’s nice that you flew in each year for Father’s Day. I’m sure going to all that trouble meant a lot to your dad.”
“It did.” He dragged in a heavy lungful of air and released it. Nudged his plate aside, ignoring the remains of his lunch. “It also helped to be distracted on that day, because ... you know.” A sliver of woe crossed his profile.
My stomach dropped. Oh, Micah . Why hadn’t the impact of his infertility and failed marriage, diminishing his hopes of being on the receiving end of Father’s Day, crossed my mind before? “That’s had to be hard for you, year after year.”
“It was in the beginning, when I first found out. And especially with the divorce. But it’s gotten easier with time.” The usual playful glimmer in his green eyes had dimmed, and I found myself earnestly wishing for a way to bring that spark back. He cleared his throat. “So what do you do for Mother’s Day? Seems like a hard day, between Claire and your mom.”
I returned my gaze to Hayley. The beast of a dog had rolled onto his back, Hayley laughing as she rubbed its belly.
“Well, with my mom, I just send flowers. Back when Claire had started our monthly dinners with my parents, we’d decided to give ourselves off holidays with them to make it more bearable.”
A crease formed between his brows. “So for all the holidays it’s just you and Hayley?”
I nodded, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Unless we get together with Julia and her family.”
He considered that, taking a sip of his bottled water.
Hayley returned, plopping onto the bench. “Precious is going to be so jealous when she smells that dog on me.” She drained her Barq’s, the breeze from the ceiling fans toying with her hair.
I resumed eating my crepe.
Micah downed the rest of his water, casually scanning the area around us before returning his attention to our little group. “Since this is my first year living here again, for Father’s Day I’m planning to host a full-out BBQ for my dad. My sister and her family will be there too.”
Hayley maneuvered her long locks into a ponytail. “Could we come?”
I blinked. It was the first time Hayley had wanted to make plans for that day.
“Of course,” Micah said.
I blinked again. He’d answered with no hesitation. As if Hayley had asked if he knew how to tie shoelaces. That was a big step. Introducing our families to each other. Especially on such a bittersweet day for Micah. And although he’d steadily been in our lives for almost three months now, we’d only been officially dating eleven days. Eleven! “Hayley, you can’t just invite us to his family gathering.”
“Sure she can.” Micah collected mine and Hayley’s trash, placing it atop his. “I’d love y’all to be there. Precious too.”
Hayley threw a victorious smirk my way. Like she hadn’t just smashed the fast-forward button on my relationship with Micah.