Page 48 of Lucky 22

Maybe because it’s my turn in the hot seat.

After the video comes the pageant scrapbooks. I haven’t seenthem in years, and now that I’m looking through them with Christian, I’mcurious what he thinks.

So, I ask.

“That is a lot of makeup,” he says with a laugh. “Ididn’t think young girls wore that much.”

“They don’t, but it’s a necessity when you’re competing.” Wejoke about my hair and some of the dresses, and even though it’s all in goodfun, I know this is something Christian would never let our kids do.

Oh, my…

Where on earth did that thought come from?

I quickly push it aside and sigh with relief when we’re donewith my pageant era and move on to my acting one. At some point, we stop fordinner. My mom and dad made the equivalent of a Thanksgiving feast to impressmy boyfriend. Bless Mom’s heart. And while we’re in the kitchen putting thefinishing touches on everything, she gives me a knowing smile.

“What?” I ask, fighting my own grin. “What’s put that lookon your face?”

“I like him,” she whispers like we’re best friends sharing asecret. “I really like him. I’m so glad you went to Tempe and claimed what’syours.”

“Mom,” I hiss, but end up laughing. “Don’t say that outloud.”

I already told Christian the story, but I think it wouldembarrass him to no end to hear her telling it to the rest of the family. Ittakes a little extra begging, but she finally agrees not to bring it up again.

As we eat, my dad asks Christian a million questions aboutbaseball, and I am more than happy to sit quietly and listen to him talk aboutthe sport he loves. He’s so patient as he talks and listens to everything Dadasks, and as I look around the table, it’s a little like the last piece to apuzzle.

He fits.

He completes our family.

We’ve talked about the future—our future—without reallypinning anything down, but this trip and meeting each other’s parents is a bigstep. When we get back to California, I know we’ll start taking our plans moreseriously. Especially since spring training will be here in no time. He’salready talking about it like he’s trying to prepare me, but I’m confident thatit won’t be a big deal. I’m already looking forward to watching him play andcheering him on, even though I know he won’t be as accessible as he’s beensince he returned from Tempe.

But it doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, whatever the scheduleturns out to be, I’ll be there. I am one hundred percent in this relationship.It’s not just the romantic times, it’s the boring, everyday times, too. Thegrouchy times, the sad times, the challenging times. I’m in.

I want to show Christian that I am here not only to supporthim and be his biggest cheerleader, but also to be there for him.

Like physically, in person, be there.

I know his family really loves him, and he calls them every day,but he doesn’t see them that much. His mom still teaches, his siblings work andhave kids, and his dad is the city commissioner. The more I get to know him,the more I realize how lonely his life is, and it makes me sad. One ofChristian’s favorite songs is “Here I Go Again” by Whitesnake. A song that isbasically about a man who feels like he’s a drifter, born to walk alone.

Well, that will never happen on my watch. I want to holdChristian’s hand and walk beside him down every stretch of that road he’sdreamed of. I don’t ever want him to feel lonely again. I want to be the personwho eases his worries, helps carry the weight when things fall apart, andstands there cheering him on when everything goes right.

This isn’t a role I’m playing or a version of myself I’mtrying on. It’s deeper than that. It’s real and lasting, and it feels likesomething I was always meant to be.

New Year’s Eve gets off to an uneventful start. Wereturned home late last night, and Christian kissed me goodbye after helping mebring my luggage into the apartment, promising to pick me up for the partytonight.

I sleep in, and then Jen and I meet up in the kitchen to eatcinnamon rolls and drink tea while we talk about our holiday trips.

Hers was a lot of the same old, same old, with only a hintof nagging from her mother about when she was going to find a nice guy andsettle down.

“Typical guilt-trip kind of trip,” she jokes. “How didmeeting the parents go?”

I tell her all about my observations of Christian’sfamily—especially his dad.

“I can’t believe you didn’t win him over. You’re usually sogood at that sort of thing.”

“I know. He’s a tough nut to crack,” I say. “But it willhappen. I know it.”

We laugh about Christian having to watch my Wonder Landvideos and seeing all the scrapbooks, but it’s all in good fun.