Chapter Seventeen
Lila
I took him home to meet my parents.
Not for a whole weekend – I wasn’t doing that to either of us for their first meeting – but for lunch. We left a little after eight, and of course, traffic packed the Grady Curve even on a Saturday.
One wrist draped over the steering wheel, Dan huffed in amusement. “I’m driving in Atlanta for you.”
“I offered to drive.” Elbow propped on the door, I wound my hair around my finger. “You chose this.”
“Right.” He tapped his fingertips on the dash. Sunglasses covered his eyes, but his alert stance told me he was watching all the lanes around us. “I’m going to pull up to your daddy’s house in the passenger seat.”
Behind my own sunglasses, I rolled my eyes. “I assure you he would not care.”
“I’d care.”
He was mildly ridiculous, but I kept that to myself.
I’d never done this before, so what did I know?
Maybe there was some unwritten Southern man code about who had to drive to the first meeting of the parents .
. . and maybe both he and Daddy would be aware of that code.
So maybe the driving was like the bottle of wine nestled on the backseat, a gift for my mama.
It didn’t matter that I said he didn’t have to take her anything. He’d looked at me like I’d lost my mind, all while texting Chuck’s brother about the best wine to buy.
“My mama put me through cotillion.” He’d squinted at his phone and typed out another text. “You take a hostess gift.”
He was precious.
Despite the traffic currently snarled around us, the drive up was great.
We’d played road games from our childhoods and talked about whatever random topic crossed our minds.
While we’d been in a vehicle together tons of times over the past few months, this little jaunt was the longest we’d ridden together.
We hadn’t made it on that weekend trip we’d talked about, and my chest panged at the idea of the cabin he’d never booked.
Maybe I could book one. Perhaps I’d ask him to save a weekend and then surprise him.
When we arrived, happiness jumped in my chest. I loved my childhood home, a weathered brick and stone house tucked on a narrow lot in an old neighborhood. Even with regular video calls, I missed my parents. I didn’t go home twice a month like I had when I was at UGA, and it was so good to see home.
Part of the reason for that was tall and had beautiful navy eyes and was walking around to open my door. He looked good, too, a gray sweater paired with blue chinos and brown loafers. The athletic cut to those pants clung, too, and my Lord, those thighs.
He swung the truck door open and propped his arm on the top. “You’ve got to quit looking at me like that.”
That stern expression left me breathless. With a cheeky grin, I reached back for the wine bottle. I slipped out of the truck, standing close to him. A whiff of subtle aftershave tickled my nose. “Like what?”
“You know. Quit it.” He adjusted his belt buckle. “I can’t walk in your parents’ house with a hardon for you.”
I dropped my gaze to his fly and bit my lip.
“Hell.” With a strangled laugh, he hooked an arm around my neck and pulled me into a hug. His chest moved with a deep breath, and slowly, the firm bulge pressing into my stomach subsided. I buried my giggle in his chest. On a sigh, he kissed my forehead. “I love you, but damn.”
Frozen, I darted a look at his face as he stepped back so I could clear the door. This was the first time he’d said the words since the first time. They fell from his lips, sounding easy and natural.
Real.
Just like him.
I swallowed the lump holding my throat hostage. My eyes burned, and I blinked hard. Who knew I’d missed his deep voice speaking those words so much?
Reaching for his hand, I tugged him toward the small stoop at the front door. “Come on so I can show you off to my mama and daddy.”
His soles scuffed on the pavers. “Show me off, huh?”
“Don’t be coy.” I hugged his arm to me, anticipation fluttering in my belly. “You’re a catch.”
One of his brows rose, and my cheeks burned. We’d stepped into a more real version of our relationship, but as I was the one floundering, of course those words sent mixed messages.
I turned him loose long enough to unlock the door, and we stepped into home – Mama’s favorite candles, lemon polish, fresh bread. I shut the door, aware Dan catalogued everything, the way he did whenever we were somewhere new.
“There she is.” Daddy’s wide grin matched how wide his arms spread as he walked in from the hallway to the kitchen. “Hey, Doodlebug.”
“Hey, Daddy.” Ignoring the twitch of Dan’s lips at the nickname, I went into Daddy’s tight hug, soaking in peppermint and cologne and security. I eased back and turned toward the other man who made feel just this secure. “Daddy, this is Dan. Dan, my dad Ray Fitzpatrick.”
“Sir.” They shook hands, Daddy’s gaze running over Dan’s face, measuring him.
“Ray is good.” He gave Dan’s hand another squeeze and released him. “Heard a lot of good things about you. Bug, let’s go find your mama.”
Like she wasn’t in the kitchen and he didn’t know exactly where she was. Besides, the house wasn’t that big.
I reached for Dan’s hand once more, and we followed Daddy. Dan glanced at the canvas of my senior year dance photo as we passed the living room. I kind of loved that picture, with the flowing blue skirt and the sunlight streaming through a huge window.
In the kitchen, Mama gave a final stir to her signature Tuscan soup, a copycat of a chain restaurant’s popular recipe, and laid the spoon aside with a clatter. With a huge smile, she swept me into a hug. “Sweetheart.”
I rested my face in the curve of her neck and inhaled her Dior perfume overlaid with a hint of sugar and rising bread. Her arms tightened, and I held on a moment before I straightened. “Mama, this is Dan.”
“Ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His shoulders straight, he passed over the bottle of wine. “This is for you.”
“Oh, my goodness, Ray, look. It’s that Pinot Gris Bonita said we needed to find. Oh, I’m so excited.” Clutching the bottle to her chest, Mama grinned at my too-smug-for-words boyfriend. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He laid a hand at the small of my back while Mama passed the bottle off to Daddy to chill.
“So tell us about yourself.” Mama pulled down a quartet of soup bowls and handed them to me. Some things never changed – setting the table had been my chore that wasn’t a chore since I was three or so.
“I’ve lived in Coney all my life.” Dan lifted two of the bowls from my hold and moved to set the other two places. “My father left when I was three and my sister was two. Mama raised us by herself. She’s amazing and works in corporate HR. I went to UGA and majored in anthropology.”
“Anthropology.” Daddy leaned on the island and crossed one foot over the other.
“Yes, sir.” Dan took the napkins and cutlery I handed over and set up his half of the place settings. “I thought I’d be a professor or a researcher.”
“And you’re in law enforcement.”
“Yes, sir.” One corner of his mouth quirked up. “I made some friends in a course a lot of criminal justice majors take and I took a criminal justice elective. Ended up pursuing my master’s in criminal justice.”
Daddy nodded, his speculative gaze moving between me and Dan. “And you think you’ll stay in your hometown with the department there?”
“I’m not sure yet.” Dan’s blue eyes settled on me in a significant look. “It depends.”
Thankfully, Daddy let that drop, and we settled at the table, the windows looking out over the backyard, filled with Mama’s raised beds and Daddy’s birdfeeders.
Our lunch conversation flitted over several topics, akin to Daddy’s treasured hummingbirds sipping nectar.
Daddy and Dan talked golf and movies, since both of them loved thriller and adventure films. Both avid readers, Dan and Mama shared a love for Stephen King.
Watching Mama smile at him while he chuckled over a killer Coke machine in The Tommyknockers – why did they read stuff like that?
I had nightmares when I tried – warmth flushed my chest and throat.
They liked him, which made perfect sense to me because he was wonderful and what wasn’t there to like?
My throat tightened. I was proud of him and to be with him.
And he loved me, slanting a smile at me as he lifted his spoon to his lips.
More than that. He liked me and wanted to be with me.
He looked at me the way Daddy looked at Mama, like I was his one, and I stilled, the future opening up around me in a way I hadn’t experienced before.
Because I could absolutely see this being my life, ordinary moments with him that were everything.
“That was not terrible.” In the driveway, he held the truck door for me after Daddy had pressed him into scheduling golf one weekend soon and we’d waved goodbye to my parents.
I smiled and leaned up to kiss his cheek before climbing into the seat. “They liked you.”
All the way home, I hugged the warm fuzziness of that to me. At my door, I clung to him after he kissed me, and he grinned against my mouth, a deep sigh rumbling in his chest.
“Baby, I’ve got to go home and get my shit together for the week. I’m doing split doubles with Josh to cover Murphy being out, remember?” He flexed his hands at my waist.
“I know.” I tiptoed up for another kiss, and he lifted his hands to cradle my jaw.
“I’ll take you out Thursday or Friday.” He brushed his lips over mine. “Promise.”
“I’m taking you up on that.” Curling my fingers into his collar, I claimed one more kiss before releasing him. “Please be careful.”
He paused, his mouth a breath away from mine, and his features softened. “I will.”
After a tight hug, he turned away and strode for his truck. Still nursing the warm glow in my chest, I watched him go before I slipped inside, locking the door behind me. Only then did I hear his truck start up.
I kicked off my shoes and carried them through to the bedroom, the small house emptier than usual without him. The empty sensation made no sense because we didn’t spend every night together.
Except I’d had a glimpse of a life with him, sitting around the table with my parents. I knew what a great partnership looked like, thanks to them, how small moments wove themselves into the most important pattern.
And we could be that.
My phone burbled with a video call, and excitement fluttered hard in my chest, subsiding with a sharp jolt when I glimpsed Samantha’s contact on the screen instead of his.
With a sigh, I settled against my pillows, rubbing my feet together, and swiped to answer. “Hey.”
“Hey, girly!” Gold patches under her eyes and a wrinkle mask on her forehead, Samantha grinned at me. “Where have you been? I tried twice earlier today.”
“I was on the road.” I’d declined both calls without a hint of remorse. Samantha knew better than most anyone that I didn’t always pick up. “Dan and I went to Mama and Daddy’s for lunch.”
Her mouth fell open. “Shut up. You took him to meet your parents?”
I sighed. “Yes.”
“That’s . . . wow.” A cheeky grin flashed Samantha’s dimples. “He must be really good in bed now.”
“Stop that.” Annoyance prickled under my skin. I slid my soles over the blanket, settling my irritation. “I love him–”
I froze.
Eyes wide, Samantha stared at me. A strangled huff of a laugh hung between us. “What?”
“I can’t talk about this with you.” A flickering panic seized my lungs, but underneath, certainty curled through me. I held on to that. I was okay. He loved me and I hadn’t planned on him, but I was safe with him.
I was everything to him, the way Mama was to Daddy. And he was everything to me.
Okay. So I just needed to . . .
Think about this. Well, that was my first instinct, to think it out, but did I really need to?
“You’re serious,” Samantha breathed, sober and intent now. “Oh, wow.”
Annoyance pricked to life again. “Don’t start about him.”
“I’m not. I just . . . you’ve never said that about a guy or . . . wow.” She paused, eyes wide and lips parted, completely gobsmacked. “I’m happy for you.”
I blinked. “Really?”
“Yes. If he’s good to you and loves you and you love him, then absolutely.” She paused, stunned expression fading into excitement. She leaned forward with the phone. “So have you told him?”
“No.” The word left my lips in the smallest voice possible. I hadn’t, because it had taken me weeks to figure myself out. And I thought I was so self-aware. I wanted to roll my eyes at myself.
“Okay.” Samantha dragged the syllables out, a tiny frown of concentration drawing her brows together. “Has he said it?”
“Yes.” Guilt wrapped itself around me.
Sam winced. She knew me, and I knew she recognized that tone. “What did you do?”
I shrank into the pillows, remembering the shattered expression on his bruised face. “I couldn’t say it back then because I didn’t know what I felt.”
“Okay. That happens.” Samantha waved a hand like the answer was obvious. “So . . . tell him.”
“I will.” That shivery panic moved through me again. “Look, Sam, I need to go. I’ll . . . I’ll call you later this week.”
“Sure.” She blew me a kiss. “Love you, babe. It’ll be okay.”
Dropping the phone, I pressed my forehead against my updrawn knees and dragged in a deep breath, holding it, then letting it go again. Samantha was right. I simply had to tell him.
I would just . . . tell him. He’d believe me, even though I hadn’t reacted well to his declaration, and he’d be happy.
Of course he would.