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I chuckled, brushing my thumb against his waist, wishing I could slip it under his shirt and feel his skin. “Let’s move some more. I’ll tell you what to do, and you be good and listen.”
“I…okay.”
I nearly forgot my parents were in the room with us while we danced. I told Parker what to do, step back or forward, and with which foot. It was a bit of a mess, the two of us stepping on each other and tripping over each other, but damn, it was fun.
“Ouch!” he said when he didn’t move and I crushed his toe.
“I told you to step back. You suck at this.”
I was surprised when he leaned forward and bit my pec. I dropped my head back and laughed.
“What’s going on over there?” Mom asked.
“Your son is being mean and making fun of me,” Parker teased.
“Elliott, be nice to your husband.”
“He bit me! Why am I the one in trouble?”
It kept going like that, song after song. We laughed and teased and let our bodies learn each other. This wasn’t what I’d expected today to be like. At all. My parents adored him. That wasn’t a shock. What surprised me was how natural everything felt. Cooking and dancing with him, letting Parker into this part of my life, something I’d never done with someone I was dating. It felt good in a way I hadn’t seen coming, and I was still trying to wrap my head around it.
When I thought about the first night we met, then Vegas and the pier, and now here, the one common thread was how much I laughed, how much fun I had with Parker. We had this burgeoning friendship and an obvious connection, one that had never developed this effortlessly with other men I dated.
“Oh my God. That’s enough for now. I suck at this.” Parker pulled away when the song ended.
“The main point is to have fun.” Mom hugged him.
“I took a secret dance class and didn’t tell Cat,” Dad admitted. “Then one day we went out, and I wowed her with my moves. If she hadn’t already been in love with me, that would have done the trick.”
“You guys are so beautiful together,” Parker said in unison with my playful, “Gag. You’re my parents. It’s so gross.”
“Ignore him.” Parker placed a hand on my mouth. “I think it’s sweet.”
I wondered if he realized he’d done that instinctively, if he realized that we were, in fact, friends now.
I licked his hand, and Parker ripped it back. “Ew.”
“You like my tongue.” I winked, and his eyes popped out of his head.
“Elliott Delgado Weaver. None of that around us,” Dad joked.
I laughed, reached for Parker, and pulled him close. It took me a moment to even realize I’d done it, that I held him, arm wrapped around him, and he let me. “We should probably head out. This one is usually off Sundays, but he’s going in tomorrow to bake a cake and then has to go to his friend’s house for their podcast.”
Something about what I’d just said snapped Parker out of this fairy tale we were pretending to be in. His back stiffened slightly, and he stepped away from me. “I had a wonderful day. Thank you so much for having me.”
Mom said, “I did too. And you’re family now. I was nervous Elliott didn’t bring you around because he knew I wouldn’t approve. No one is good enough for my son, you know, but you are, and I adore you.” Mom hugged him, and goddamn, her words twisted me up inside. But this had to be better than the other option—for them to know this was fake, and the hoopla that would follow.
“I adore you too,” Parker told her, not making eye contact with any of us when they pulled away.
“We need to exchange phone numbers,” Mom said, and they did.
“Welcome to the family, son. This had me worried with how it started, but I’m happy for the two of you. It’s what we’ve always wanted for Elliott—to settle down and be happy with a good person.”
He had? Dad had never told me that before, and suddenly, I was so thankful to have given him that, to have made him proud and happy. It was something I’d been too selfish to care about when I was younger, but yearned for now.
“I… Thank you, Malcolm.” Parker raised his arm and chewed his nail, something I’d never seen him do before.
“Thanks, Dad,” I said.
He gave me a smile, then asked Parker about the cake he would be working on the next day—one made with Kahlua, apparently.
Mom hugged me. “He’s incredible, mi niño,” she said softly, just for me.
“I know he is.” It was the truth, even if this marriage wasn’t one for love. “Thank you for accepting him…and me.”
