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“Wow,” he said, his eyes traveling down the length of my jumpsuit. “Never seen you wear that to school.”
I gave him a half-grin. As for him, he looked handsome as ever in the outfit I told him to wear—a brown suede button-up over an olive green Henley. We’d Facetimed earlier in the day so I could assist him in picking out the perfect outfit. And he didn’t complain once, which was more than I could say for Heath, who hated that kind of thing. Even Owen grumbled a little when I picked out his outfit for a convention once. Mason, though? He wanted my input.
“Good luck with Dad,” Jamie said to us as we stepped out onto the porch. “And good luck meeting the family, Point Break.”
Mason squinted, holding the pie against his chest as I closed the front door behind us. “Wait. Was she talking to me?”
“Well, she wasn’t talking to me, was she?” I asked, fully enjoying his confusion. “Let’s go.”
**
My dad lived in one of those “blink and you’ll miss it” small towns that made Woodvale look like a bustling city in comparison. My stomach was in knots the whole way over, and Mason could tell something was up. “You don’t have to make yourself do this, you know,” he said. “Just say the word and I’ll turn around.”
“I need this,” I said. “It’s hard to explain why.”
“Okay,” he said, resting his hand on my thigh as he drove. I swallowed, watching his face. If he was nervous about meeting my dad’s family, he wasn’t letting it show. Asking him to do this made me feel a little guilty, but at least he was taking it in stride.
Just like everything else.
Mason parked along the curb in front of my dad’s place, a cute blue house on the corner. There were the same frog statues in the landscaping that were there a decade ago—Jamie tried to steal one of them one time, but I wouldn’t let her. As we made our way up the walk, Mason’s hand on the small of my back, I turned to him and said, “I’m feeling stupid about my pie and my outfit.”
He tilted his head back and laughed at me—but in a sweet way. “Relax,” he told me as I rang the doorbell. And as we waited for someone to come to the door, he squeezed my hand, which made my fears melt away. Halfway, at least.
What was I so nervous about? My dad should’ve been the one sweating right now.
One of my sisters—I could never remember who was whom—pulled open the front door. “They’re here!” she announced, looking me up and down. And then she turned to Mason, staring at him with even wider eyes as we stepped into the house.
“Move out of their way and let them in, Paislee Ann,” my grandma said from a few feet away. I hadn’t heard that gravelly voice in ages. She made her way to us, her silver hair cascading in soft waves over her shoulders. “Get over here and give me a hug. It’s been way too long.”
The woman threw her arms around me, and Mason took the pie from my hands as I sank into her embrace. It was deeply comforting in an unexpected way—and she smelled just how I remembered. Like menthols and baby powder.
“Who do we have here?” she asked when we pulled away.
“This is Mason,” I said, tucking my hair behind my ears as he reached out to shake her hand. “My boyfriend.”
I wasn’t even aware of what I’d said until Mason gave me a side glance. Were we labeling each other like that now? I guess I’d sort of decided that for us. He didn’t seem to mind, though. My grandma took the pie from us, thanking me for it, and hollered at the rest of the family to come greet us. Paislee stood in the front hallway and continued to stare the entire time.
Finally, we were ushered into the living room, and my dad came down the stairs with the biggest smile on his face. “There’s my girl,” he said, and he looked as though he might cry as he reached out for a hug. It was a stiff, uncomfortable embrace, but he was trying. As he withdrew, I got a good look at his face—his brown eyes, now adorned with more wrinkles than I remembered, and a slender nose that reminded me of Jamie’s. “How was the drive over?”
“It wasn’t that bad,” I said. “Um, Dad—this is Mason.”
Mason shook hands with my father, making eye contact with him as he said, “It’s great to meet you.”
“I brought a pecan pie,” I blurted. “Grandma took it to the kitchen. I hope that’s okay.”
“That sounds delicious,” my dad said. “Angie will be relieved—she was worried we didn’t have enough for dessert.”
I exhaled, feeling Mason’s hand on my lower back again. We continued to make small talk until dinner was ready. Mason shook my step-mom’s hand, not even reacting when I referred to him as my boyfriend again. “The more the merrier,” Angie told us as we took our seats at the table. I opened my mouth to thank her, but she turned to scream for Rylee over her shoulder. “We can’t get that girl to come out of her room these days,” Angie muttered.
“Isn’t that just like Jamie?” my dad asked, taking his spot at the head of the table. “I almost forgot what she looked like because she spent the entirety of her middle school years locked in her room.”
Angie hollered for Rylee another time, and finally, she joined us at the table with a scowl on her face. She was the older of the two girls, and I had to guess she was around thirteen or fourteen. She perked up when she saw Mason, I noticed, tucking her hair behind her ears and watching him closely as we filled our plates.
Paislee, on the other hand, had questions for us. “How long have you been dating?”
I sipped my sweet tea, taking a moment to formulate a response, but Mason beat me to it. “Since September fifth,” he said. I shot him a quizzical look, and he grinned. And then it hit me. That was the day of that first PTO meeting, when we had our very first kiss.
He remembered, and I didn’t. “That’s right,” I said.
