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“So, you’re meeting the parents tonight, huh?” Aunt Leanne asks before she shoves the club sandwich between her lips.
“Yeah. From what Micah’s said, they sound like nice people.”
“Then why do you look nauseous?”
Because I am. Because today has a lot happening and my body is on the fritz with how to handle it all.
“Ms. Jenkins pretty much told me she’s dying today.” It isn’t the sole reason for why I feel—and probably look—like garbage. But it is a major player in the game.
Aunt Leanne sets down her sandwich. “Oh, Peyton. I’m so sorry.” She moves to my side of the table and hugs me a moment before returning to her seat. “Do you think she meant it? Or is she just losing it?”
This crossed my mind more than once as I finished my shift at Gulfside. The possibility something triggered her to say what she said. A friend in the facility passing. A family member passing. Death changes people’s perspectives. It has certainly changed mine.
“Don’t know. Part of me feels she won’t be there in two weeks. But I pray she is.” I sip my drink and the cool liquid does nothing to settle the unease in my chest. “She said some pretty profound things today. Things people say when they aren’t sure another chance will happen.”
Aunt Leanne reaches across the table and takes my hand. “I’m glad you had today with her.”
“Me too.”
She gives my hand a gentle squeeze, then releases it. “Now, what can I do to make tonight less stressful?”
I shake my head and laugh. “Wish I knew. Not like I’ve never met the parents in previous relationships.”
“So, why the jitters?”
The answer crawls its way to the tip of my tongue. Ready to escape, but I restrain it a little longer. Right here, right now, with Aunt Leanne, isn’t the time to confess.
“Because everything is different with Micah.” And that little fact excites and frightens me equally.
