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“Nice to meet you, Hartley,” Frank says, the low timbre of his voice reminding me of the men on the audiobooks that Grams and I used to listen to.
“Nice to meet you too,” I say, shaking his outstretched hand.
His parents are both tall, but Eli still has a few inches on both of them. He gets his dark coloring from them too. They all have dark brown hair, although his parents’ hair has a bit more gray in it than brown.
Eli wraps his arm around my shoulders and I glance up at him. He smiles down at me and for just a moment, I can almost believe that this is real.
“We were just about to get started making dinner. Did you want to give me a hand?” Susan asks and I nod.
“Let Eli give you a tour first. I’ll go get everything ready,” she says before she disappears into the next room.
“Come on,” Eli says, taking my hand in his and leading me back out into the hallway and then up the stairs to the second floor.
The floors are all the same dark hardwood, the walls painted a really pale gray. He shows me the bedrooms, letting me poke my head into each before we move onto the bathrooms.
“How long have you lived here?” I ask him as he leads me back downstairs and all the way down the hallway.
“About three years. I bought it right before my parents moved to Florida and I took over the shop,” he says as he leads me into another room.
I glance around the small den at the back of the house. The furniture all looks comfortable, the leather chair in the corner by the back window looking like the perfect place to curl up on a winter day with a good book and a cup of hot chocolate.
Eli leads me across the hall and into the kitchen and I swear I almost moan when I see it. It’s a chef’s dream kitchen and I eye him suspiciously.
“Can you cook?” I ask him.
“A bit,” he says with a shrug and I can’t tell if he’s being modest or not.
“Oh, don’t listen to him. He can heat up a frozen pizza or meal and that’s it,” his mom says with a laugh and I can’t help but gasp.
“You can’t cook, but you have this perfect kitchen?” I ask, outraged.
“It just came with the house,” Eli says, holding up his hands in front of him as he backs for the door.
I ignore him, turning back to take in the splendor before me.
The cabinets and drawers are all painted a pale green that complement the dark wood floors and black marble countertops perfectly. A six-burner stove, black farmhouse sink, and a double gleaming oven finish out the area and have me wanting to cry all over again.
“Do you need help?” Eli asks and I know that he’s trying to throw me a lifeline before he just leaves me alone with his mom.
“No, dear. Go visit with your dad. Let Hartley and I get to know each other a little better.”
Eli looks like he doesn’t know if he should argue or not and his eyes ping pong between me and his mom until I finally rescue him.
“We’ll be fine,” I say, giving him what I hope is a reassuring smile.
He still looks like he wants to stay, but finally he turns and heads back into the living room.
I wash my hands, trying to give myself a pep talk.
We’re in a kitchen. This is a safe space. You can make one meal with Eli’s mom and survive.
I dry my hands off and join her at the counter, all of my confidence evaporating with his first question.
“What are your intentions with my son?”
“Uh…”
Susan laughs, letting me know that she was just messing with me, but I have a feeling that this is far from the only thing she’ll be asking me tonight about Eli’s and my relationship.
