I don’t know why I’m this nervous. I mean, I can be awkward around new people, sure, but this is my boyfriend’s family. The same boyfriend who barely talks about them except to say, ‘they’re a bunch of nutcases, but in a fun way.’ What the hell does that even mean?
We’re cruising in our technology-enhanced, rented black Honda Civic. This car is fully loaded, with Apple CarPlay blasting some absurdly specific Spotify daily mixes. We haven’t talked much about his family. Instead, it’s all about his last game. They lost by three, bringing the Hawks to a 4-4 record, which isn’t great, but Carter’s still riding high. He didn’t score any touchdowns, but he ended up with 100 rushing yards and four catches for 25 yards. His stats have been great lately.
He keeps telling me that the Hawks are definitely going to extend him. And I always nod, in agreement. But in the back ofmy mind, I know how messed up these teams can be. He might have to settle for a team-friendly, one-year deal, whether he likes it or not.
I glance at him from the passenger seat and say, “So, babe, tell me about your parents. I feel like I should know something. I can’t go into the Elliot nest empty-minded.”
Carter shifts a little in his seat, one hand still on the wheel. “My mom’s Debi, my dad’s Scott. Been married 25 years. They have their off days, but they’ve always been best friends. They bicker all the time, but clearly it works, since they are still together. My dad’s a handyman who fixes kitchens and really anything anyone asks. My mom’s an organizer. She labels everything, color-coded closets, the whole thing. She even has a few hundred thousand Instagram followers, which is an insane thought.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Do they live alone?”
He laughs. “They wish! Both my brothers still live there. Dustin’s twenty-four, Chase’s twenty-two, and both work in different Tech startups. We love fucking with each other, which can get annoying. They joke about asking me for money all the time.”
“Must be nice, saving all that rent,” I say with a half-smile.
Carter glances at me. “It’s a trade-off. I loved living with them, but they also annoyed the shit out of me. Now that I’m out, we get along better.” Carter laughs, “I cannot count the number of times my mom yelled at me for having a single sock on the floor, like why does it matter?”
I laugh. “So you’re basically the golden child.”
Carter chuckles. “I should be! I paid off their house with my rookie contract.”
I blink. “Wait, what?”
He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “Yeah. They raised me, and it just felt right. I am a giver, what can I say?”
I smirk. “Wanna pay off my dad’s house too? Maybe Rachel's house as well?”
He grins. “Ask me again in a few months, depending on whether I get this contract extension or not.”
I smile, settling back into my seat, loving life. “Are we stopping for dinner or are we doing something else?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, my mom’s making my favorite meal. It’s this meat, broccoli, cheese, and rice thing. No idea what it’s actually called, but it’s amazing.”
“I’ll eat anything,” I say. “Legit anything, but my only request is, just no ketchup or mayo.”
Carter laughs. “I got you, bae.”
For the next couple of hours, we let Spotify carry the mood, occasionally pausing to talk about football, the cafe, or the Christopher Street rental he keeps bringing up. He’s obsessed with the idea of me renting that space.
“You’d kill it,” he says for the third time. “Good music, good food, good coffee, and I know you’ll fill it out easily.”
I want to believe him. But 1,800 square feet feels huge and maybe too big for me.
Still, he looks at me like I’m crazy anytime I say that. And part of me loves his confidence in me. It makes me feel like I am making the right decision with this cafe and that I can actually do it.
Right at 8 p.m., we pull into the driveway of his childhood home. It’s a good-sized house and way bigger than what I grew up with. Through the backyard, I catch a glimpse of a nice-sized pool.
I know the pool is closed for the season, but I cannot believe he has a freaking pool.
And then I hear barking; high-pitched, excited insanity coming from behind the gate.
Peeking through the slats, I see three tiny dogs jumping up along the side gate, with such excitement. They appear to be three different-colored Miniature Schnauzers, I think.
“You have dogs?” I ask, turning to Carter in shock.
He smiles, smug. “I wanted to surprise you. They’re my pride and joy. I hate that I don’t see them anymore, but I grew up with them. The white-colored schnauzer is my best friend.”
I shake my head, grinning despite myself. “Of course they are.”
