22. Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Two
Nick
Tonight has gone even better than expected.
While I never imagined myself in a situation like this, “pretending” to be Eliza’s boyfriend is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.
Being by her side—holding her hand and feeling the warmth of her presence beside me—feels more like an honor than a lie.
The way her soft, slender fingers perfectly intertwine with mine—as if our hands were made for each other—feels like a dream come true.
I just hope she’s starting to see how perfect we could be together.
Because I never want this to end .
As the last bite of Thanksgiving dinner is savored and plates are pushed away, I eagerly offer to clear the table.
“Oh no, no. Sit back down, Nick, you’re our guest,” her mom insists.
But I shake my head with a smile. “It’s the least I can do after such a wonderful meal.”
Eliza shoots me a grateful look as I begin gathering plates and utensils, taking them to the kitchen. Once everything is cleared away, the family heads to the living room for coffee and Eliza joins me in the kitchen.
My heart flutters at the sight of her. I can’t help but admire the way her hair falls delicately over her shoulders, and the way her green eyes sparkle in the soft kitchen light. She looks like a vision, an angel here on Earth.
“You’re really good at this,” she says before drying a plate with a soft towel.
“Dishes?” I smirk.
“No, everything .” She chuckles. “I don’t even remember the last time someone offered to help out like this.”
“It’s really no trouble at all.” I shrug.
As we finish up the dishes, I dry my hands. Eliza’s watching me with a soft smile on her face. The tension between us is palpable. I can almost taste the electricity in the air, drawing me closer to her with each passing moment.
“Nick, thank you for everything tonight. You’ve been amazing, and my parents absolutely adore you. ”
Taking a step closer to her, I reach out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s an honor to be here with you and your family,” I say, my thumb brushing against the soft skin of her cheek.
She leans into my touch, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sends a jolt of electricity through me.
Is she feeling what I’m feeling?
Every bone in my body wants to lean in and close the distance between us, to capture her lips with mine in a kiss that would express all the emotions swirling between us. My senses ache to taste her sweet lips, to run my fingers through the soft strands of her blonde hair, and to become lost in the warmth of her embrace.
I want to show her how much she means to me, how my heart beats for her, how I long to be more than just a pretend boyfriend.
I want to be her everything —
“Who’s ready for dessert?” Ms. Marilyn calls out from the living room, interrupting the charged moment between us. Eliza’s cheeks flush slightly as she takes a small step back.
“I’ll bring it out,” she offers, before stepping away to grab the dessert plates.
My heart is still pounding in my chest as Ms. Marilyn approaches from the living room, followed by Eliza’s mom and dad. “Don’t worry, Nick. I have paper plates for the pie.” She winks.
Moments later, we’re all gathered around the dining table once more, with a decadent-looking apple pie sitting in the center. The warm aroma of cinnamon and apples fills the room .
“Nick, would you do the honors of cutting it for us?” Ms. Marilyn asks.
I nod, before carefully slicing into it. The golden crust gives way to reveal the rich, spiced apple filling inside. I portion out slices onto the paper plates, making sure to give Eliza an extra generous piece.
“My lady, allow me to serve you first.” I present the plate to her with a small bow.
“Why, thank you, kind sir,” she responds in mock formality, accepting the plate with a giggle. The rest of the family chuckles at our little exchange, their eyes full of warmth and amusement. I reach out and rub her shoulder tenderly, enjoying every opportunity I have to show her how much she means to me.
As we dig into the pie, conversation flows easily, and I can’t help but sit back and admire the way Eliza’s family shares stories and jokes with each other. The genuine love and warmth they have is evident in every smile, every laugh. And they’ve been so incredibly welcoming to me, embracing me like I’ve been a part of their family for years.
It’s a feeling I never knew I craved until now.
And maybe, just maybe, one day … I can be a part of it.
As we’re finishing up dessert, the family starts sharing embarrassing stories from Eliza’s childhood, causing everyone to erupt into laughter.
I steal glances at Eliza, admiring how she gracefully takes it all in stride, her cheeks flushed with both embarrassment and amusement .
“You know, I have some baby photos around here somewhere!” Ms. Marilyn exclaims, jumping up from her seat.
“Oh no, not the baby photos,” Eliza groans as her granny disappears into another room.
“Oh, c’mon, we’ve got to show Nick here how cute you were as a baby!” her mom teases.
Eliza shoots me a sheepish smile. “Prepare yourself. You’re about to witness the ultimate humiliation.”
“I honestly can’t wait to see.” I smile, taking her hand in mine.
As the sound of rustling papers and muffled laughter drifts from the adjacent room, I can see the mixture of dread and amusement on Eliza’s face. She’s bracing herself for whatever embarrassing childhood memory her Granny is about to dig up.
“Ah, here we go!” Ms. Marilyn exclaims before returning to the dining room table with a dusty photo album in hand. She plops down on the seat next to me, the album open on the table. I lean in closer, eager to catch a glimpse of baby Eliza.
The first photo is of a chubby-cheeked toddler sitting in a pile of colorful books, a wide grin on her face. I feel my heart swell at the sight of Eliza’s chubby cheeks and tiny hands. She was undeniably adorable.
“She was always happiest surrounded by books,” her mom reminisces.
“I still love books,” she points out with a smile.
“You were such a cute baby!” Ms. Marilyn gasps, pointing at a photo of baby Eliza at her first birthday party .
“You know, I have to agree. You could’ve been one of those babies pictured on a diaper box.” I nudge her. She playfully swats my arm, rolling her eyes.
As we flip through more pages of the album, I am introduced to different stages of Eliza’s childhood. From her messy spaghetti face at her first birthday party to her toothless grin on her first day of school. Each picture captures a moment in time, a piece of her story that I feel honored to witness.
“This one’s a classic!” her dad exclaims as he points to a photo of a young Eliza covered head to toe in dirt, proudly displaying a freshly dug earthworm in her hands. “Ah yes, my little explorer,” he continues with a smile.
Eliza’s cheeks flush with nostalgia as she recalls the memories associated with each photo. I can’t help but wish I could have been there to witness some of these moments with her.
“You know, you two would make really good-looking babies,” her mom teases, winking at the both of us.
And while I agree wholeheartedly , I can instantly tell Eliza’s feeling a bit flustered by her mom’s comment. The room falls silent for a moment, the weight of her mother’s words hanging in the air.
Eliza’s cheeks turn a deep shade of red as she shoots a quick glance in my direction, her eyes widening slightly.
I clear my throat, trying to ease the tension in the room. “I think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves here,” I say with a chuckle, shooting Eliza a reassuring smile.
She nods in agreement. “Yes, let’s take it one step at a time. ”
“Yeah … c’mon, honey, don’t scare the poor boy away. We wouldn’t want him to bolt before dessert next time,” her dad chimes in, breaking the moment with a hearty laugh.
“Oh, I think it’ll take a lot more than that to scare this one away,” Ms. Marilyn remarks, casting a knowing glance in my direction.
The tension dissipates, and we all join in the laughter. But despite the light-hearted banter that follows, a sense of vulnerability lingers between Eliza and me.
Her eyes meet mine with a mix of embarrassment and something else I can’t quite place.
Is that a hint of longing in her gaze?
The thought sends a surge of hope through me, mingled with a healthy dose of uncertainty.
We share a smile, a silent understanding passing between us, before returning our focus to the photo album.