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“This one,” I say, pointing through the windshield to the house I grew up in. Weston pulls into the drive behind my sister’s turquoise Mini Cooper. It puts me to shame that my baby sister has her license before I do.
“Are you originally from here?” Weston asks, killing his engine.
“Yep. Grew up on this street,” I tell him, then step out of the car into the warm sunshine and stretch out my legs.
My house hasn’t changed at all since I was a child, though I notice the elderly couple who’ve always lived next door have started renovations since the last time I visited. Cars line the road, parked beneath the shade of towering trees, and a woman walks past with her Chihuahua. It’s always been a quiet, laid-back street. Safe.
“So is Luca,” I add as Weston joins me outside his car. “We went to high school together.”
Weston stuffs his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and doesn’t follow me up the drive to the porch. When I glance back at him, he asks, “Are you sure you want me to be here? I can go check out the beach or something. Pick you up again in a few hours when you’re ready?”
I tilt my head to the side. “Weston, I’d like you to come inside with me,” I tell him with sincerity. “I want to introduce you to my mom. She loves when I bring friends to visit. But ifyoudon’t feel comfortable .?.?.”
He walks over to the porch and scoops up this morning’s newspaper from the step, furrowing his eyebrows playfully at me. “Let’s see if these burritos are really as mind-blowing as you’ve hyped them up to be.”
“They are,” I quip, and push open the front door. “Mom?”
The house smells of beef and spices, and Weston sniffs appreciatively. I cross the living room toward the kitchen in search of my mother, who I’m bound to find huddled over the stove, but the thundering of footsteps down the stairs stops me in my tracks.
“Finally!” Verity says. She leaps from the stairs straight into my arms, knocking me off-balance. She may be four years younger than me, but strangers always mistake her as the older sister. She’s a whole five inches taller than me. It’s not fair.
“Hey, hey. Come here,” I say, readjusting us both so that I can hug her properly. I press my face into her shoulder and she squeezes me way too hard. It’s not our usual hug. It’s longer, tighter, full of love. It’s the first time I’ve seen her since the breakup.
Verity, without unfolding her arms from around me, leans back to eyeball Weston behind me. “Umm. Hi.”
“This is a friend of mine. His name’s Weston,” I say, and Weston smiles politely. “And this is my sister, Verity.”
Verity shoots me a funny, unconvinced look. We’re both naturally blond, but ever since I started adding copper highlights a few years ago, we aren’t that alike anymore. “Since when do you have guy friends?”
“Since Luca isn’t around to get jealous anymore,” I reply with an edge to my voice. I unwrap myself from Verity and ignore Weston’s gaze trained intently on me.
“Well. Hi, Weston,” Verity says. “I’m a hugger. Sorry.”
She pulls Weston into a hug, and he awkwardly embraces her while I mouth an apology.
“Gracie!” I hear my mom sing. She appears from the kitchen, arms extended and her smile so wide it stretches all the way to her eyes. The sight of her immediately sends me bubbling into tears.
“Mom,” I say, my voice cracking. I meet her halfway and collapse into the safety of her arms, hugging her the way I used to when I was a kid and the world seemed so scary. It doesn’t matter how bad things get when your mother is there to reassure you that everything will be just fine.
“Oh, darling. It’s okay. It’s okay,” she whispers soothingly, stroking my hair and holding me protectively. Verity and I will always be her little girls, no matter how old we are. When we’re hurt, she’s hurt. “You’re going to come out of this stronger than you were before.”
It’s hard for Mom too. Luca was like a son to her, part of the family. We often excitedly discussed my wedding plans. We checked out potential venues, browsed for my dream dress, even wrote drafts of the guest list. It was only a matter of waiting for Luca to propose.
But he didn’t, and now I have to rebuild my entire life.
“Look, Mom. Gracie brought a newfriend,” Verity remarks.
Mom and I separate. I wipe away a tear and fire Verity a disapproving glare for her sarcasm.
“Mom, this is Weston. And wearejustfriends,” I say.
Mom’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. The only friends I ever bring down here are Elena and Maddie. Weston is obviously a very new addition to my life, and it probably doesn’t help that he’s aguy. It’s not great timing, him walking into my life immediately after my breakup with Luca. Admittedly, I can see why Verity is skeptical.
“Well, hi, Weston. I’m Erica,” Mom says, a little uncertainly. She offers her hand for Weston to shake, and he does so firmly while handing her the newspaper from the porch. “I hope you’re hungry, because it’s burritos for lunch.”
“Gracie’s been raving about your burritos the entire drive,” he says, and Mom grins proudly. She’s a great cook, and if anyone ever said otherwise, her feelings would absolutely be hurt.
Samuel pokes his head around the kitchen doorframe, a dishtowel over his shoulder. Before he can get a word out, Weston steps forward to shake his hand. “And you must be Gracie’s father. Nice to meet you.”
