“So . . . am I coming?” he asks, after a couple of beats of silence where I’m having a slight panic attack.
“Do you . . . want to?”
“I’m not gonna lie: this might be the worst dinner invite I’ve ever had,” he says.
I laugh. “I’m sorry. Okay, let me do this right. Would you like to come to dinner with my family?”
“Hmm. Let me think about it.”
“Luke,” I chide.
“Will they care?”
I shake my head. “No. They always make way too much food. I’m sure Gigi would love to see you again.”
And now I’m thinking about what Gigi might do. The woman is a wild card.
“Okay,” he says. “I’d love to come to dinner with your family.”
I get off Alameda as soon as I can and head toward my parents’ house, feeling apprehensive and, honestly, a little sick to my stomach.
I couldn’t try to take back the offer again, could I? No. I’m stuck now.
It only takes us five minutes to get there, and it feels like my heart is going to race out of my chest as I park and we get out and walk toward the door of the ranch-style home with the white siding and painted black shutters.
“So this is where Claire Archer grew up,” Luke says as we approach the door, an appreciative smile on his face.
“Yep, this is it.”
I take a breath before opening the door and walking inside.
Luke follows me through the kitchen and living room and out the patio doors, where we find my mom, Gigi, Ryan, and Sienna all sitting at the wooden outdoor dining table, my dad at the grill with his back to us.
They all fall silent when they see us.
“Claire?” my mom asks, standing up from her seat, a confused look on her face.
“Hello,” I say, waving at my family. I’ve literally never greeted them with a “hello” in my life.
“Who’s with you, Claire-Bear?” my dad asks. He’s turned toward us now, tongs in one hand and a lobster mitt in the other, wearing his “License to Grill” apron.
Oh gosh.
“Everyone, this is Luke,” I say. “And, Luke, this is everyone. My dad, mom, brother Ryan and his girlfriend Sienna. And you remember Gigi.”
“How could I forget Gigi?” he says, a smile on his face as we walk closer to the table.
Gigi looks up at him from her seat, shading her eyes with her hand. “I’m hard to forget. Come have a seat by me, Luke,” she saysbefore turning to Ryan, who’s currently occupying the seat next to her. “Move it, kid.”
Ryan laughs as he and Sienna get up and move two seats over so Luke can sit next to Gigi and I can take the one next to him.
“Sorry,” I whisper to him as we sit down.
“For what?” Luke leans toward me, whispering back.
“Just . . . it’s a preemptive sorry,” I say.
“So, Luke, how do you know Claire?” my mom asks.
