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Until I met Maria.
Out of every girl I’ve ever been with, none of them have ever made me feel the way she does. Like no matter where life takes me, coming home to Maria would make it all worth it.
Or, which may be more applicable to our situation, having her dad berate me and make my time in the office that much harder would be worth it.
The idea makes my stomach toss, but not as much as it has before. Because in the end, I know I’d have Maria.
“Lunch is served,” my dad calls out as he walks back onto the porch, balancing the boxes as well as a stack of paper plates in his hands.
“That smells amazing,” Maria says, and looking at her, it’s as if she has hearts in her eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted pizza so much in my life.”
“You don’t even look at me like that,” I joke as I watch her reach over to grab a plate and a slice of pepperoni.
“I’d be concerned for her well-being if she did,” Monica teases me in a cheery voice and a kind smile, completely opposite from the usual quick jab.
“At least I’m with someone,” I tell her, always ready to spar with Monica verbally.
“I’d sure hope so. You’re thirty-three,” she retorts, and that earns a round of laughter from everyone at the table.
“I’ll remember this,” I tell her before filling my mouth with a bite of pizza.
But it’s all in jest. No matter how much Monica and I get into it, she’s still family, and I’ve always loved my family. Though, I still can’t figure out how she’s the same baby I held in my arms when I was eighteen.
“So, you two, tell me more about what you and Tyler have been working on in the classroom,” my dad asks, and I already know that Maria is ready to go into an in-depth explanation.
While I thought Maria would get along with my family, a part of me still worried because I really wanted them to like each other. But seeing her engaging with my parents now, sharing laughs, and giggling with Monica, I know she’ll fit in perfectly.
Now, I just need to figure out how I’ll fit in with hers.
CHAPTER20
MARIA
“You don't have to continue with the volunteering if it's becoming too much to handle with your job,” I call out, observing Tyler as he paces around the room. He repeats the same phrases he's been practicing for an hour, fine-tuning his opening remarks for an upcoming trial.
While he rarely has to appear in court, he's currently handling a copyright dispute for one of his major clients. This, in addition to his help in my classroom, makes me feel guilty that he's working too much to compensate for the time he loses at the office.
“No, I'm okay,” he responds swiftly, returning to his speech rehearsal.
“They haven't violated any copyright laws because . . . because,” he trails off, jotting down a note on his pad.
With a sigh, I resume scrolling through my phone. I must ease my excessive worrying. I've been grappling with enough due to my stomach issues. I can't allow additional frustrations to aggravate me.
Even though I assured Tyler that I've been feeling well, I suspect something might still be amiss. Some mornings I wake up feeling queasy. Typically, it fades, leading me to stop stressing until the sensation resurfaces.
I don’t want to burden Tyler any more than he already is with his work. The field trip took him away from work for most of the day last week, and he’s been playing catch up ever since.
A small part of me wondered if I was pregnant. I almost went out to buy a test. But I got my period soon after, and I never burdened Tyler with the fleeting thought.
I also feel responsible because I’m the reason he’s overwhelmed with work. If it wasn’t for my father, he would not have been compelled to volunteer.
My father is another issue we haven’t tackled yet.
“I’ve been thinking that since I’ve met your family now, we need to talk again about mine,” I start. Tyler doesn’t stop his pacing.
It’s as if he didn’t hear a single word that came out of my mouth, continuing to mumble the same words to himself.
“Tyler, really. I know you’re busy, but” I’m not able to finish the sentence as Tyler quickly cuts me off.
