Chapter 34
FISHER
I’ve never felt nervous being at my parents’ house before, but with Ebba in tow and knowing we have a week with them before we head out for the Australian Open, I’m more than a little worried about how this time might go.
I set Ebba’s luggage out of my SUV. We flew back to Miami a few days ago so Ebba could pack up her stuff and then flew into Houston this morning and briefly stopped at my place before making the drive to my parents.
They live about two hours from Houston in a small town, River Hollow, that’s mostly horse country.
I’m still not sure how they ever found this place, but they love it.
The ranch style house is modest in size but well kept. My mom loves to grow flowers and always had her hands in the dirt when I was a kid. It’s because of her that I have a green thumb. I just never have any hopes of keeping anything alive with my travel schedule.
I’m pulling out my duffle when the front door opens and my mom squeals, heading my way with open arms.
“Hey, Momma—”
She bypasses me and goes straight for Ebba hovering behind me.
Ebba shoots a wide-eyed expression my way a second before my mom envelops her in her arms.
“Oh, my girl. It’s so good to see you.” My mom sways back and forth, holding tight to Ebba.
Ebba’s panicked expression quickly relaxes, and she closes her eyes, hugging my mom back.
“It’s good to see you, too.”
My mom pulls away and takes Ebba’s face between her two hands. “You’re somehow even more beautiful. You have no idea how much we’ve missed you sweet girl.”
Since my parents were the only people who knew we were together before it created a special bond. We were free to just be us when we saw them. We didn’t have to pretend like all the other times.
“Are you guys hungry?” my mom asks. Before either of us has a chance to answer, she says, “I made cucumber sandwiches and homemade chips.”
I scrunch my nose. “You made chips. Like potato chips?”
My mom turns to me. “It’s actually quite easy and they taste better than that processed crap from the grocery store. You’ll see.”
She walks past me for the house.
“No hug for me?” I call out, arms open wide.
“Nope,” she says, not bothering to turn around. “You’re not my favorite kid anymore.”
My mouth drops open, and I swing around to find Ebba bent in half and giggling. “Oh, you think it’s funny that my mom just admitted to loving you more than me?”
She straightens, little giggles still escaping her. “I think it’s hysterical.” She pats me on the shoulder as she goes to pass me. “You bring the bags in. I’m going to help your mom set the table.”
“You’re really going to make fun of me with my own mother, aren’t you?” I tease, watching her retreating figure head toward the front door.
She turns around and gives me the sassiest head tilt and smile. “Probably.”
Shaking my head, I finish unloading the car and shoulder her bag and mine so I can wheel our suitcases behind me.
Inside, I hear my mom and dad along with Ebba in the kitchen. I’m happy they’re embracing her like no time at all has ever passed.
Dropping our bags in the guestroom I make a quick pit stop in the bathroom before joining them in the kitchen.
Remnants of my childhood cling to the house. Like the chicken shaped crock my mom uses to hold her overflowing collection of wooden spoons and the framed art of my hand from a first grade art class.
“I was thinking later we could make my kitchen sink cookies. You used to love those so much.”
Ebba beams at my mom like this is the best news she could ever receive. “That sounds amazing. I haven’t had those in so long.”
“Hey, son.” My dad throws his arm around my shoulders. He’s who I got my height from. While my mom is short at five-foot-one he’s a verifiable giant beside her at six-foot-six.
“It’s good to see you, Dad.” I pull him into a hug.
“Let me see the ring,” my mom says, pulling my focus back to her and Ebba where she tugs on her hand and proceeds to ooh and ahh over the ring. “Oh, this is beautiful and so you. Did you pick it or—”
“Fisher picked it,” she replies before my mom can finish her sentence. Ebba looks at me from beneath her lashes with an almost shy smile on her lips. “And it’s perfect. I couldn’t have picked a better one. He knows me well.”
The four of us settle at the old kitchen table—another remnant of my childhood that still bears my name scratched into it with a dinner knife when I was eight and is now my designated spot to sit whenever I’m home.
My stomach rumbles, reminding me I didn’t grab anything to eat while I was at my place. I swipe two whole sandwiches from the stack my mom prepared.
“Always so hungry,” she says in amusement. To Ebba she adds, “When he was a teenager he damn near ate us out of house and home. I thought I was going to have to take another part-time job just to keep up with his appetite.”
“Mom,” I groan around the bite of food already in my mouth.
Ebba laughs, exchanging a conspiratorial smile. “I mean, have you seen him? He’s huge. He needs a lot of fuel.”
“That’s probably my fault,” my dad joins in with a chuckle.
“Probably?” my mom scoffs. “It definitely is. Have you never looked in a mirror?”
My dad laughs harder. “You’re the one that married me.”
“Yeah, because I was young and wanted to climb you like a tree.”
“Oh. Ew. Mom.” I slap my hands over my ears. “Please, stop. I’m begging.”
“I’m sorry, honey, but it’s true.”
I turn to Ebba. “Let’s leave. We can celebrate Christmas at my place instead.”
“Don’t be silly,” my mom scolds. “I’ll be good from now on. Promise.” She mimes zipping her lips.
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Ebba finds my hand beneath the table and lays hers on top of mine. She gives a gentle squeeze and I flip my hand palm up, lacing our fingers together. “No need to leave. I’m exactly where I want to be.”
I search her brown-eyed gaze and don’t find any trace of a lie. I’m glad she’s happy to be here with them. With me.
“I saved decorating the tree for y’all’s arrival. I know Christmas is only a few days away, but I thought it would be more special if we all did it together.”
A tiny gasp catches in Ebba’s throat. If she was just a little farther away from me, I wouldn’t have even heard it.
“That’s so kind of you to wait for us.”
My mom gives her a soft smile. “I’m just so thrilled to see y’all back together.
” When Ebba opens her mouth, no doubt to protest, my mom holds up a hand.
“Don’t worry, Fisher has told me everything but forgive an old woman for having some hope and believing in fate.
That’s what I think this is. Fate was intervening for you guys. ”
Ebba meets my eyes and raises one shoulder in a shrug. “Maybe it was.”