“We’re supposed to be coming here to relax. What are you nervous about?”
“This is going to be weird.”
“Why? You’ve met my family a couple of times.”
“But not like this.”
His parents had driven down to Boston one day and they’d all had dinner together, about the time Wren had admitted to herself trying to keep a wall around herself hadn’t worked and she was in love with Grant. Several times after that, they’d met his parents—along with Grant’s brother, sister-in-law and their daughter—halfway between at different restaurants to visit for a couple of hours.
“What, because you haven’t been to the house?”
She sighed, looking out her window at the passing scenery. “No. It doesn’t matter where we see them. No matter what you say, your mother’s not going to forgive me for what I did. And you won’t know if she puts anything in my food unless you spend the whole time in the kitchen.”
“Wait. You don’t actually think my mom would do that, right? Like poison your food or make you sick or something?”
She laughed. “No. I’m aware it’s just a funny way of saying she won’t want me there, but will tolerate my presence for your sake.”
“Okay, just checking.”
“And we’re already running late.” She glanced at the clock again, and they were tipping past early afternoon.
“That’s not your fault.” He lifted a hand in a what are you gonna do gesture. “That would be the guy who decided to toss his cigarette butt off his deck into his neighbor’s recycling at two in the morning.”
“Maybe you should stop at that gas station.”
“I already planned on it.”
When they stopped, Wren took her time in the restroom while Grant topped off the Jeep’s gas tank. After splashing cold water on her face, she tried to smooth down her hair. It was nerves, she knew. She’d looked absolutely fine when she glanced in the mirror before they left and all she’d done was sit in the Jeep. There was no way she looked as frumpy as her brain told her she did right now.
Just nerves. The only thing she could do was have faith in Grant. If his mother wasn’t ready to accept Wren back in her son’s life, he wouldn’t bring her home with him.
Her stomach still got jumpy when he pulled off a back road onto a smaller back road, though. It was beautiful, with ice sparkling in the trees that separated the road from snow-blanketed fields, and Grant reached over and squeezed her thigh.
“I know you can’t possibly have to pee again already,” he said, “so you’re worrying over there. Stop. It’s going to be fine.”
Even though it felt as if it was about ten degrees, not counting the breeze, Don and Jill Cutter were standing on the front porch of the big, white New Englander-style house when Grant killed the Jeep’s engine.
“You ready?”
She gave him a nervous smile. “If I say no, what happens? Do we just sit in the Jeep for a while?”
“We can, but I’m not starting the engine again so you’ll get cold pretty quick.” He leaned across the center console and gave her a quick kiss, and it did help calm her a little. “Let’s go inside where it’s warm. And there’s food.”
He got out before she could respond and walked around to open her door. The cold was more intense here and Grant was right. It certainly got her moving.
“It’s good to see you again,” Don said, holding out his hand as they reached the top step of the porch. She shook it while Grant hugged his mother.
“Wren.” After looking at her for a long moment, Jill stepped forward and opened her arms. “I’m so glad you could come.”
It wasn’t the warmest hug she’d ever received, but it wasn’t a stiff formality, either. No doubt it would be a while before they forgave her for what she’d done to their son, but she was welcome here, nonetheless.
“Let’s get out of the cold,” Don said, ushering them all into the house.
With Grant’s hand at the small of her back, she got a brief tour of the downstairs. It was decorated in a classy, neutral style that was homey and welcoming, but not cluttered. It reminded her a lot of Grant’s apartment, just more spacious.
She couldn’t help pausing to look more closely at a grouping of family photos. There were several of Grant and his brother—they looked so much alike, and were both younger versions of their dad—at various ages. A few family photos, including a trip to Disney when the boys were young. And there was an old black-and-white photo of a woman posed with a man decked out in firefighting gear.
“My grandmother was a red phone operator,” Don explained when she leaned in to see it better.
