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“Don’t you think about it. I’m sorry if I did something to scare you.”
“No, you didn’t, not really.”
“All right, then let’s get up to the house. If I know my mother, she is probably standing at the front window wondering what we are doing out here.”
“Oh, god, do you think she saw me freak out?”
“Probably not, but don’t worry about it, okay?”
How could I not worry about it? Wes was bringing me to meet her parents, and I had attacked him for the second time. I was mortified.
He opened my door, and before I climbed in, he kissed my forehead. “You’re safe. You’re both safe here.”
He would never know how much that meant to me, and I tried to regain my composure as he climbed into the other seat. He drove down the driveway, and a man came out of the barn as we parked.
“That’s my dad.” Wes waved at him through the windshield. He was an older version of Wes, only with shorter hair, and a little thicker around the middle, but not by much. “Okay, Marisol, we’re here.”
“We are?” She pulled her headphones off and glanced around. “I don’t see a pizza store.”
“It’s inside the house.” He told her.
Marisol grew quiet, “Who lives there?”
“That is the house that I grew up in. My mom and dad live here.”
“They do?” Suddenly her voice sounded a little excited. “Whoa, do they have horses?”
“Yes, they do. Do you want to see them?”
She squealed, “Yes!”
I winced at the high-pitched tone, “Inside voice, Marisol.”
“Sorry.” She replied quickly.
Wes and I got out, and he came around the car and opened the back door, leaning in to help Marisol get out. He lowered her to the ground, and she tried to look past him. Her smile froze as it landed on his father, and she shifted behind his leg.
“It’s okay, Mari,” I told her and put my hand out to her. She took my hand but stayed behind Wes until he stepped forward.
Wes and his father hugged, “It’s good to see you. You let it grow in.”
Wes touched his beard, “Yeah, I’m not sure I like it. I might shave it soon.”
He turned toward me, “Dad, this is Charlotte and her daughter Marisol. Ladies, this is my dad, David Young.”
I stepped forward and had to release Marisol’s hand to put mine forward. His grip was strong, but gentle at the same time, and his eyes were just as kind as his sons. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Young.”
“The pleasure is mine, Charlotte, and please call me David.” He turned his kind eyes to Marisol. “Hello, young lady.”
I turned to take her hand again, but she was wrapped around Wes’s leg.
“Can you say hello to Mr. Young?”
She bit her bottom lip, and then whispered, “Hi.”
Wes turned and picked her up, “Do you want to go see the horses before we make pizza?”
“We’re gonna make the pizza?” She asked him.
