AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“It makes a lot of sense, sweetheart. And I think instead of focusing on how you got here, just enjoy that you are. Don’t look back at the paths you could have taken. Focus on what’s ahead.”
I nod. “I am. Or I’m trying to, at least.”
“Good.”
The sliding door opens and my dad steps inside. “We need an offload tray, Miriam.”
My mom nods, then turns to rummage through one of the lower cabinets.
I glance at my dad. “Everything…okay out there?”
His neutral expression doesn’t change. “Phillips isn’t terrible with a grill. Picked it up faster than penalty kills.”
“His name isAidan, Dad. Which you know.”
“I know, honey. And if I ever call him that, you’ll know that things arenotokay.”
I take that to mean my dad is still claiming Aidan as one of his players, who he always refers to by their last names. That there’s some affection there, buried beneath his obligation to interrogate any guy I date.
“He’s…important to me,” I say.
My mom hands my dad a metal tray. “Here you go, Anthony.”
My dad hands it to me. “Take that out to Phillips. He should be able to handle it.”
It sounds like another tiny endorsement.
After I take the tray, my dad doesn’t let go.
“No guy will ever be good enough for you,” he tells me. “Not my stubborn, brilliant, beautiful little girl. But…” He smiles. “You could do worse than Phillips. A lot worse.”
I swallow. Nod. “Thanks, Dad.”
He nods back. There’s still a lump in my throat as I head outside with the tray clutched in one hand.
I feel so lucky. So loved. So much like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Even the chilly, damp air doesn’t extinguish my good mood.
“I flipped everything again, so…” Aidan glances over, registers it’s me, and then straightens from the grill. “Oh. Hey. What happened to Coach?”
“He sent me out here. I think it’s a vote of confidence in your barbecuing skills.”
“Oh. Okay. Cool.” He lifts the lid of the grill to survey the cooking meat. “Is there a thermometer somewhere? I think it’s done, but I really don’t want to fuck this up by feeding your parents anything raw.”
The only other time I’ve ever seen Aidan this nervous was the morning he asked me to be his girlfriend. He was rambling andfidgety the whole drive here, talking about going bowling with Harlow and Conor next weekend. Mentioning the voicemail his dad left him and the paper he has due on Monday.
And now? Fiddling with the burners and frowning at the food? He looks vulnerable. So far from the suave guy lounging in that stone hot tub, staring up at the stars like a fallen god.
“I’ll grab a thermometer,” I say.
“Great, thanks.”
I turn to go, then turn back. I’ve spent the past week debating when, where,howto say this to him. Maybe he didn’t mean it, that night. Maybe it will freak him out.
But Aidan has a talent for pushing me out of my comfort zone, so I let him draw me out once again. Even if he doesn’t feel the same way, I want him to know this is howIfeel.
“Hey, Aidan?”
