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Not a good look.
“We can grab breakfast on the way,” he says, and pecking me on the lips he tells me not to worry. Sounding like an engineer watching his latest creation hum to life.
We’re on the road soon enough, only stopping briefly for a take-out breakfast, which is delicious.
Everything here just feels better, tastes better. Or maybe it’s just the company I’m keeping?
Either way, it helps settle my nerves but I still try one more time to see if I can’t handle some of this on my own.
“Could you at least give me an hour before they get home?” I ask him, almost begging before he simply takes my hand and kisses it while he drives.
“What do you need time for?” he asks me directly. “We don’t have to make love in front of them. Just say hi and bye, you’re an adult.”
I have to agree with him.
If only it was with someone else’s parents though…
The thought of even seeing my dad again is awkward enough. Then there’s the whole Michael seeing where I actually live thing.
Ugh.
It’s unbearable on the one hand, but on the other like having a loose tooth out or a cast taken off. Best to just get it over and done with, I’ll deal with the fallout later.
The ride to my mom’s feels like it goes a hundred times faster than the ride we took to get to the beach house.
I give Michael directions once we take the turn off and I notice his disapproving look darken as we drive through the neighborhood, finally turning onto my street.
“Oh shit,” I mumble to myself.
“What is it?” Michael asks, filled with concern.
“They’re already here.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Michael
I feel for Natasha, I really do.
The effect this is having on her isn’t so good, and it’s hard to watch her grow so anxious.
But I’m not gonna live in the shadows. She’s my woman now. Not a girl anymore and the sooner her parents, Suzanna, and everyone else sees that the better.
Okay, so maybe having her folks waiting for her once we arrive isn’t ideal, but we’re all adults here.
Aren’t we?
Natasha tells me to park a few houses down, and when I stop she asks me to wait in the car.
Politely ignoring all her instructions. I help her out of the car after opening her door for her.
“You look beautiful,” I remind her, kissing her before she eases her hand back from mine, smoothing out her dress, and walking briskly up to the front door.
I look around the slightly overgrown yard. I grew up in worse places, but this isn’t where Natasha belongs.
Not anymore.
She’s waiting by the front door, almost like a guest when I see her mom’s face peering out through the curtains.
I hear her shriek of recognition from inside as I hear the low thud of hurried steps before I finish waving to her from outside.
I thought it was Natasha who was nervous about her folks coming home.
The sounds from inside, high and low voices, tell me that obviously, Renee wasn’t expecting to see me arrive with her only daughter.
Or was she.
The front door peels open, and I see Renee first, with open arms as she grabs a hold of Natasha, followed by the man I assume is her father.
He’s not what I pictured at all. More like a gym buddy that jerks his head in recognition.
Like we’ve already met and have known each other for years.
I can feel Renee’s eyes on me, shining with something more than surprise when I decide to join them at the front door. Reaching it in three long steps.
She grabs a hold of me and seems to pull everyone into the enclosed living room space, which makes the train we were all on just yesterday seem spacious.
Before I can be introduced, Natasha’s dad hugs her, and I notice her returning it a little awkwardly.
“How have you been, baby girl?” he asks, his eyes shining, but with the tears of a dad seeing his little girl all grown up.
Natasha seems more than embarrassed, but also a little confused.
And I have to admit, if this is the reception she was so worried about, I must have missed something important somewhere along the line.
“I’m Neil,” her dad says suddenly, clapping me on the shoulder and shaking my hand.
“Michael. Michael Stapleton,” I reply before I take a seat, meeting his intense eyes still fresh with emotion.
Renee laughs aloud, almost like a schoolgirl, teasing me about having to introduce myself.
“We know all about you Michael, we were on the train together,” she says, nudging her husband Neil as if to let him in on the secret everyone seems to be aware of except us.
Natasha glances around. “Where’s Suze, Mom?” she asks, but Renee seems distracted.
“Oh, she bumped into us on the way out,” she says.
“Literally,” her dad Neil pipes in, rolling his eyes.
