“You look beautiful. Stop fussing.” Vincent glanced at me out of the corner of his eye as we drove down the side street that led toward his parents’ house. “Your hair is perfect. Your face is perfect. And your body ...” He waggled his eyebrows. “Fucking perfection.”
“You’re not a reliable source.” I shot him a glare. “You look at me like a boyfriend, not like a boyfriend’s family.”
“Babe, it’s not like you haven’t met everyone here already. You’re going in with every advantage. My brother-in-law is your best friend. My sister is one of your good friends. You know my mom and dad.” He paused. “Oh, and Frankie loves you already. She talks about your super cool apartment all the time.”
I groaned. “Great. Your eight-year-old niece thinks I’m nifty. That’s changes everything. And you’re missing the point, Vincent. Your family all knows me as Liam’s friend. Now, today, they’re meeting me as Vincent’s girlfriend—the one he’s been dating for months but never brought around, and what’s that about? Why didn’t I come over sooner?”
He shook his head. “No one’s going to think that. If anyone gets blamed, it’ll be me. Trust me, in my family, when all fails, blame Vincent.”
“That’s not true.” I frowned. I’d noticed before how Vincent spoke about his family—with love, of course, but also with an undercurrent of exasperation and frustration. It wasn’t anything I could relate to, since I didn’t have any siblings.
“I’m not having a pity party. That’s just the way it is.” He lifted one shoulder. “And my point is that they’ll all love you for being wonderful enough to take on the grump. So you don’t have anything to worry about.”
I rolled my eyes and gazed out the window, taking in the trees and blooming bushes of the pretty suburban neighborhood. Spring had more than sprung, and the days were getting both warmer and longer. I’d driven down here on Friday night after work, and yesterday, while Vincent had worked at the restaurant, I’d spent the afternoon on the beach, catching up on my reading before finals. It was the first time I’d spent an entire weekend in Seagrove City; while I’d spent the occasional Friday night or Saturday with Vincent, I always went back to Philadelphia before Sunday morning.
But this time, I hadn’t. I was on my way to my very first family supper with the DiMartinos. And I was unreasonably nervous about it. As Vincent had pointed out, I already knew everyone who would be at the house. Ava and Liam were going to be there, so I’d have the moral support of people who were friends. I’d always looked at Ava’s family as warm and welcoming, even if they were a tad overwhelming en masse, so why had that changed now that I saw them as Vincent’s family instead?
He turned a corner and slowed as we approached the two-story gray house with the well-kept yard. There were already two cars in the drive and another alongside the curb in front, and Vincent parked behind that one, in front of the house.
“Okay. Let’s do this.” He opened his door and climbed out before coming around to my side to offer me a hand. “You all set?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I grasped his fingers and let him pull me to my feet. “Damn, I should’ve brought flowers or wine or something. That’s what people do when they go to someone’s house for the first time. They bring something. I know this. How did I forget?”
“Amanda, this isn’t a dinner party with the governor. This is a family meal. No one expects you to bring anything. You just go in, yell hello ... and then every pitches in until the food is on the table. It’s not fancy, and it’s not a big deal.” He rubbed his hands up and down my upper arms. “Just relax and be yourself. You’re pretty incredible, and anyone who doesn’t see that isn’t worth your time.”
I gave in to my nerves and let myself lean against him for a few seconds. Vincent was strong and steady, and when his arms wrapped around me, I felt so utterly safe and protected. It was an unfamiliar sense, because I’d always relied on myself and stood on my own feet. My parents had always been there for support and encouragement, but I’d prided myself at an early age that I could do anything on my own. The idea that now I didn’t have to be alone—that I could rely on Vincent—was a new and heady feeling. Now I had someone else who I could count on when I needed him, someone who wasn’t going to make me less or hem me in when he held me up.
“Hey.” He nudged my chin, forcing me to look him in the eye. “You’re Amanda Simmons, and nothing and nobody scares you. Didn’t you tell me that last summer?”
I smiled a little. “That sounds like something I would’ve said. But maybe I was an idiot. Or just too cocky.”
“No, baby, I’m the cocky one in this relationship, remember?” He smirked, and I couldn’t resist lifting my lips up to kiss him. I meant it to be just a light brush, but he gripped my arms and held me to him, coaxing my mouth to open as his tongue made lazy forays against mine.
“Mmmmm,” I hummed against his lips. “This is lovely but making out in the front yard isn’t going to win me any points with your mom. We should go in.”
“Yeah, I know.” He gave my ass a playful smack. “I might have to tell Ma that you were molesting me in front of the whole neighborhood, if she asks what we were doing out here.”
My eyes went wide in horror. “You wouldn’t.”
He shrugged. “Probably not. Unless she starts in on me and I need to throw someone under the bus.”
“Nice, Vincent.” I threaded my fingers through his as we began to make our way across the yard. “So how many girls have you brought home to meet your family?”
He slid me a glance that was speculative and apprehensive at the same time. “Counting now? Today? One.”
I came to an abrupt halt. “What? You’re kidding, right? I’m not the first woman you’ve introduced to your family. No way.”
“But you didn’t ask that. You asked how many I brought here. Sure, my parents and my brother have met women I was sleeping with. But I’ve never brought a woman here, home, for Sunday dinner with the whole bunch of them. You’re the first one.”
“Why?” I needed to hear this from him. I wasn’t normally an insecure woman, but I’d found that with Vincent, I craved his words of affection and reassurance. I needed to know how he felt—to hear it from his lips.
“Easy. Because you’re the first woman I’ve fallen in love with and wanted them to all meet.” He smiled down at me, and the truth of what he’d just said glowed in his eyes. “I love you, Amanda. And for me, that makes all the difference.”
“Me, too,” I murmured. “I’m glad I’m the first with you at something. But it does kind of up the ante for me, you know? They won’t have any comparison. They won’t think,well, at least she’s better than that skank he dated a few years back.”
“Oh, Jesus.” Vincent shook his head. “I’m supposed to be sorry now that I didn’t bring home some losers so that you’d look better to my family? Trust me, sweetheart. That’s not how it works. And you don’t have to feel like you’re Joan of Arc going to the stake. No one’s going to burn you alive. Just relax and have fun.”
He didn’t give me any more time to second-guess or whine. Instead, he dragged me up the small side porch to a screen door, which he opened. Standing aside, he gave me a mock bow. “After you, St. Joan.”
