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Standing from the couch, he holds out his hand for me to take. “You have clothes. Nice ones, even,” he adds, eyeing me as I stand before him. “And you can shower here. I could use some company in there, if you’d like.” When all I give him in response is an arched brow, he continues on as if my protests are completely pointless. “And when I told my mom you were here last night because I was hurt at the game, she was very thankful. Not at all suspicious. Not that there was anything to be suspicious about, anyway.” He winks, popping a kiss to my cheek. “So really, you have no choice. She’s ordering brunch as a thank you for you taking care of me and because she’s really happy to see you again after all these years.”

“But–” I protest.

“Nope,” he stops me before I can really say anything. “You can’t let her down and we both said we wanted to get to know each other better. And there’s no better way to do that than to spend a few hours with my parents. They’ll tell you everything.”

I quickly shower and then we’re on our way to his parents’ house. Bubbles of nervousness turn over and over in my stomach. There’s no hiding the anxiety I feel over making a fool out of myself. But when we step out of David’s apartment and he twines our hands together, my butterflies soar away on the soft breeze.

When he opens my door for me, comfort evaporates my jitters completely. After sliding into his seat, he leans over to my side, kisses my cheek, telling me, “You look beautiful.”

Those three words combined with his easy and carefree attitude help me feel more at ease than I thought I could have been. Any worries I had, fly out the window with the warm summer air.

Yet the second we pull up to his parents’ house, my nerves return in full force. They live in the same house they did all those years ago. Which means my old home, the one I only lived in for a few months before it nearly burned to the ground is right next door.

“I’m sorry,” David apologizes, taking in the look of surprise on my face. “I didn’t even think about that.”

“That’s okay.” Taking a deep breath, I calm myself. “It’s fine, really. It was so long ago.”

Before we can say any more on that topic, David’s parents step out their front door, waving at us from their wrap-around porch. “You ready for this?” Leaning in to me, he smiles before kissing my cheek.

I nod. “Yep, let’s go.”

Fake it till you make it.
I coach myself, taking another calming breath as I step out of the car.

“Oh, my goodness,” his mom gasps, descending the few steps of the porch. Holding my hand in hers, she smiles brightly at me. “It’s really you. It’s so good to see you again.” She pulls me into a hug, squeezing the life out of me.

“Okay, Mom.” David steps next to us, dropping his hand to my shoulder. “Let her breathe.” Draping his hand on my shoulder, he pulls me to his side. “Told you she was a hugger,” he says, not at all trying to hide his words from his mom.

“Hi, Mom,” he greets her with a wide, boyish smile on his face. Stepping to her side, he kisses her cheek. Moving away from his mom, he extends a hand to his father, greeting him with the handshake-slash-backslap thing. After his dad says hello to me, he pulls David into the kitchen, his explanation of what happened with the water fades as they walk away.

“Come out back.” His mom loops her arm through mine. “I have some bagels and coffee set up out there. I can’t wait to catch up.”

“Me, too, Mrs. Andrews.”

Waving away my formality, she says, “Shush now. It’s Penny, okay?”

“Okay.” I nod as we walk to the back gazebo.

By the time we have our mugs prepared, David and his father walk out to meet us. Seeing them next to each other gives me a clear picture of what David will look like in thirty years or so. It’s as if I’m catching a privileged glimpse into the future and it puts a dreamy smile on my face.

“What?” David asks, a self-conscious tone to his question as he takes in my look.

“Nothing,” I deflect. Handing him a mug, I say, “I made you another cup.”

We all sit around the small table, preparing our bagels. Just as I’m sinking my teeth into an everything with veggie cream cheese, Penny says, “It’s been so long, Grace. Tell us everything.”

Shooting David the side-eye, I realize his plan all too clearly. While his mom might very well spill every juicy detail about him to me, she’ll also get me to share a good deal as well. He shrugs, digging into his bagel as I place mine back on the table.

“Everything is a lot,” I attempt to deflect, but Penny is having none of it.

“How are your parents? Where are they? Where did you go after the fire? We never heard from you again,” she goes on and on and I wonder how she’s getting any oxygen into her lungs.

“Mom,” David tries to interject. Meanwhile his father sits there, enjoying his meal seemingly unaffected by his wife’s rambling. I guess after all those years he’s used to it. That thought makes me smile for some odd reason.

Covering David’s hand with my own on the table, I say, “No, it’s okay. Really.” After a sip of coffee, I try my best to encapsulate the last eighteen years into a few sentences. “After the fire, we moved to South Jersey where my Uncle Henry lives. Dad landed a really great job and so we stayed there. After high school, I moved to Manhattan for college. And that’s where I ran into David. We bumped into each other at a bar and well, here we are.” Looking over at David, he has a mesmerized look plastered to his face. His arm draped over my shoulder is warm and comfortable, as if that’s where it belongs.

“What did you study in school?” his father asks, putting his empty plate on the table.

“Literature. Mainly American lit, with a teaching certificate. Minored in developmental psychology, Mr. Andrews.”

“John. Please call me John,” he insists. “That’s really impressive. Any luck on the job front yet?”

“Not really.” Shrugging, I try not to think of the implications of possibly not finding a job. “I’ve sent my résumé out to pretty much every school in Manhattan and on Long Island. The most I can do now is hope for someone to bite.”

“They will. They’d be foolish not to,” David cuts in, a proud look in his eyes.

Luckily, John takes the break in my life story to ask David a few questions about the kitchen remodel. Listening on, I’m beyond amazed at his knowledge. It’s clear that he’s best friends with his father and that they both respect each other very much. Penny chimes in every now and then, offering her opinion on finishes and the overall design. She asks me my opinion on colors and tiles, easily including me in the conversation.

When we’re all done eating, she excuses herself. And a few minutes later, she’s walking back out to the table, her arms filled with a stack of photo albums. “Looks like it’s my turn to divulge all,” David jokes, leaning in so only I can hear him.

Pulling her chair up next to me, Penny opens an album and points out a few pictures from David’s youth. A Halloween here, an elementary school graduation there. As she flips over the page, she laughs. “And here you can see, middle school was . . . well, let’s just call it an awkward phase.”

Chiming in from the other end of the table, John adds, “Took the kid about three years to grow into his feet. Earned him the nickname Bozo for a while.”

I can’t contain my laughter, letting it burst from my mouth, spilling everywhere. David elbows me in the side. “You know what they say about big feet,” he whispers so only I can hear him as his mother opens another, more recent, album.

Gasping in shock at his overt words, I can’t put together any kind of response. However, I instantly remember what his body feels like beneath mine.

There’s definitely something to that myth.

“Oh and this one. This one is my favorite.” Penny’s words cut through my steamy thoughts. Clutching her hand to her chest, she points at a picture of David in a navy blue suit. Looking more closely at it, I realize it’s a picture of him on the day he graduated from the fire academy. Standing behind her son now, Penny says, “We were so proud of you that day.” She smiles at him, and then excuses herself to make some more coffee. John walks with her, leaving just David and I outside.

“You know,” he says as I continue to flip through the rest of the pictures from his graduation day. “I thought of you that day.”

“What? No you didn’t.” Disbelief colors my words.

“I did,” he asserts. Tucking his finger under my chin, he turns my head to his. His eyes capture mine. “You might not have been there with me physically, but in my head and my heart you were. Because, Grace,” his voice changes on my name, becoming more serious somehow, “I wouldn’t have become the man I am without you.” His lips brush against mine softly. It’s not a hard kiss of passion or need like before. Rather it’s one of affection and appreciation. “And now, having you here with me, actually sitting next to me, letting me touch you.” He pauses, grazing his thumb over my lip. “It’s almost more than I can handle.”

“Ahem,” John clears his throat behind us. “You’ve got two seconds before your mother comes out here and sees you like that. And we all know she’ll never let up if she does. Hell, she’ll have a wedding planner over next week. So knock it off, will ya.” It’s impossible not to laugh at John, especially after witnessing Penny’s excitement firsthand. And when she settles back into her seat, even though I miss David’s warmth right at my side, he reaches under the table and laces his fingers together with mine.

When we leave a few hours later, I realize I learned so much about him through his parents’ stories.

But I learned even more about his character from the way he helped his father with the busted pipe; from the way he insisted his mom take it easy and let him take care of the dishes; from the way he promised he’d be back at their house tomorrow morning to help with the contractors; in the way he held my hand the entire ride back to the train station.

And in the way he kissed me goodbye on the platform, making me feel like the most important person in his life for those heated seconds.

And so, as I sit on the train heading back to my apartment, I get lost in thoughts of everything I still don’t, but can’t wait to know about the man who is quickly working his way into my heart.

Achy and sore beyond all belief, I want nothing more than to close my eyes. After two days of helping my parents with their kitchen, I’m thankful something was screwed up with the flooring. It’s not that I mind helping them out. I’d much rather be exhausted and over-worked from helping them than have them be taken advantage of. But between helping them and trying to let my leg heal, my body can only take so much.

Even after a hot shower, I still feel the knots pulling in my shoulders, the after effects of two days’ worth of ripping up old tiling. But there’s no rest for the weary, especially in my life. Despite having the opportunity to study quite a bit during the not-so-busy shifts at work, I still need a good cram session at home. And that’s exactly what’s on the agenda today.

“Glasses on. Let’s get this shit done,” I say aloud, needing to motivate myself. Uncapping the bright yellow highlighter, I open the six-inch three-ring binder and get down to business.

The words begin to blur together. The highlighter may as well weigh a ton because holding it steady in my hand becomes impossible. When my glasses slip from my nose, I know I’m fighting a losing battle.

That’s when my phone buzzes on the table. With Grace’s name flashing across the screen, I’m instantly awake.

“Hey,” I answer cheerfully.

“Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Oh, my god,” she rambles on with breathless delight.

“Grace? Is that you? Are you okay?” Her lack of a greeting has me a little concerned.

“Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Oh, my god,” she continues on, clearly not hearing a word I’ve just said.

“Either something really amazing happened or you’re having the orgasm of a lifetime and you felt the need to call me and rub it in my face.” I knew that would work because the
oh, my gods
stop. “And if you are having an orgasm, I hope it’s the self-inflicted kind because otherwise, that’s just plain old mean,” I joke, imagining her face twist in a mixture of mock-horror and humor.

Paying no mind whatsoever to my comments, she blurts, “I have a demo lesson. Me. They called
me!
They had the spot filled and then the candidate backed out. Their back-up had already taken a job so they called me! There’s only a few days of classes left, so they want to do the interview and the demo on the same day. The
same day!
Can you believe that?”

“Holy crap! That’s amazing, Grace. Where? When?” My excitement over her news is rivaled only by the knowledge that she wanted to share her enthusiasm with me.

“Tomorrow. Holy shit.” Realization flows through her words. “Tomorrow at ten in the morning. I need to get to work. And then figure out the train schedule. I can’t be late and screw this up. But I still don’t even know what I’m going to do.” Her ramblings are exasperating and she’s getting way ahead of herself here.

“Grace,” I say calmly into the line. “What school?” I ask, even though I already have an idea.