My expression pinched. “Can we not talk about my parents while I’m in this position. That’s just weird.”
He rubbed my upper arms. “Fine. We’ll talk about mine.”
“Uh…” That wasn’t what I meant. At all.
“You should meet them,” he added.
Double uh.
My eyes got huge, which must have been hilarious to Caleb, because his body racked with silent laughter as he tried comforting the fear from my body.
“They’ll love you,” he promised. “But I want this to be out there. I meant what I said before. The world needs to know that you’re mine. I can be very territorial.”
I got what he was saying, but the idea of telling our parents made me feel like I was reverting to high school. Why did admitting that I was seeing somebody seem so terrifying to admit?
Probably because the first time I ever admitted to my parents that I was interested in someone, I got pulled into the safe-sex talk…in the middle of Walmart, where everybody could hear. What worse place to receive the birds and the bees talk than Wally-world? It seemed cruel.
“Why don’t we invite our parents over for a barbecue?” he suggested. “I’m pretty decent at using a grill.”
There wasn’t any space for a grill at my building. The front lawn had a small hill right out front, and no space for families to hangout.
“Where would we do that?”
He shifted under me, hands resting on my hips. “I actually found a place right outside of the city limits. It’s a three-bedroom, two-bath on a good piece of land. There’s plenty of space to have our families over for a get together.”
His words stunned me. “You’re moving to Oakland?”
“Outside of it, unless that’s a problem?”
Quickly, I shook my head. “Not at all, I just didn’t know you were planning on moving here.”
What did that mean for us? Did he look into the area because it was near his friends? Me? Our families lived close to an hour away, so it wasn’t because of them. And unless he had a job prospect in Oakland, there was nothing else here for him to stay close to.
“We haven’t exactly been on the same page since we first met,” he pointed out. “In fact, I think we’ve had two, maybe three, decent conversations since knowing each other.”
I cringed over the facts. “God, we suck.”
He snorted, squeezing my hips. “Nah, we’re just sorting things out. But if we should consider planning something if we want to do this.”
I nibbled my bottom lip, ignoring the way my body shook over the thought of being around his family. I’d seen his parents before as Iris’s friend. It was different when we’d be announcing to the world that I was practically sleeping with their son.
Internally, I groaned. “Don’t you think we should wait? I mean, what if the place you want doesn’t work out?”
“Are you scared?”
I deadpanned. “My dad owns a gun.”
He grinned. “Good, so does mine. They’ll have a lot to talk about.”
I sat back, fidgeting with my hands as I studied his calm expression. “You’re not afraid my dad will shoot you? Or threaten castration? Or tell you that he’ll use chemicals you’ve never heard of to get rid of your body if you ever hurt me?”
He shrugged. “Not the first time I’ve been shot at, remember?”
Okay, he had a point. But I doubted chemical warfare or castration was as much of a threat overseas like it was with an angry father.
“My dad knows people with pigs, Cal.”
He blinked in confusion. “Pigs?”
I solemnly nodded, leaning closer to him and speaking in a hushed tone. “Pigs eat everything. Everything.”
“So, you’re telling me that if your father asks me to join him for a walk in a pig pen, I should say no and run the other way?” he guessed.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
He patted my thigh. “Duly noted. So, are you in? I’m not scared, and you shouldn’t be either.”
I licked my bottom lip, running my fingertips down his jaw. I soaked in the moment, listening to our hearts sync. The apartment was quiet, peaceful. I moved off his lap and slid into the spot next to him, tucking my legs under me.
“Let’s do it,” I agreed, giving him my best smile. It may have looked like I’d just had a stroke, but it was meant to be genuine. “After all, I doubt you’d just settle for making this Facebook official and calling it good.”
He linked our hands. “Oh, our virtual friends will know too. But I doubt our parents would be okay with knowing either of us are involved with the other over social media.”
Begrudgingly, I agreed. If Mom found out I was dating someone from anybody but me, she’d blow up my phone. The last time I’d forgotten to tell her something important, she hounded me relentlessly about how she’d give me the silent treatment if I didn’t give her the details. It seemed like a contradictory threat, but I wasn’t about to tell her that when she was worked up.
If it hadn’t been for one of her friends who worked at the hospital, I wouldn’t have had to admit that I’d gone to the emergency room after breaking my nose and two fingers trying to do yoga.
Mom wasn’t surprised over the fail.
Then again, neither was I.
“Are you excited to move on from the service?” I asked quietly.
“I’m looking forward to seeing where life takes me next. I just hope it isn’t a pig pen.”
I snorted, smacking his chest. He chuckled, resting his cheek on my head.
“Thanks for everything today,” I told him tiredly, feeling my eyelids grow heavy.
“You know I’ve got your back.” He kissed the top of my head. “Even if it cost me another pizza and a serious case of blue bal—”
“Uncle Cal,” a tiny voice called from the bedroom. The door creaked open and Andy came out, rubbing his eyes.
Caleb got up and walked over to him, kneeling to his level. “What’s up, buddy? Can’t sleep?”
“Is Daddy gonna’ be okay?”
Caleb picked him up, settling him on his arm. “Your dad is perfectly fine. You’ll see him tomorrow. How about I tuck you back in?”
“Can you sleep with us?”
Caleb glanced over at me, uncertainty pinching his eyebrows. I gave him a nod of encouragement, fluffing a pillow at the end of the couch to show him I was fine.
“Goodnight,” I said to both.
“Goodnight, babe.”
He kept the bedroom door cracked open after he carried Andy inside, and their muffled murmurs were what I fell asleep listening to.
How You Know It’ll Work:
He includes your cat in important life decisions
Tiny carvings of my name in the old wooden table held my attention as I traced the sloppy letters with my finger. A steaming cup of hot chocolate was placed next to my hand, drifting my focus upward to Mom.
“Your father wanted to sand that over,” she told me, sitting down at her usual spot.
I wrapped my fingers around the Pug mug I’d given her last Christmas. The dog was wearing a Santa hat and smiling. “He wasn’t very happy when I carved my name into it.”
She laughed, sipping her coffee. “No, he was not. But I informed him that he wasn’t allowed to sand over it until after I was dead.”
I blew on the scorching liquid. “How’d that go?”
“I’m fairly certain he looked to see if I had a life insurance policy,” she answered casually.
We stared at each other, and then broke out laughing.
She patted my hand. “So, what brings you here, darling? Something tells me it isn’t Swiss Miss hot cocoa, since you prefer that awful sweet caramel crap from Dunkin.”
I gasped. “How dare you.”
She rolled her eyes.
I took a sip of my drink. “Maybe I just wanted to say hi.”
She eyed me doubtfully. “You never have this much time to come visit. Your father and I know how bus
y your work schedule is, or we would have come seen you.”
I fidgeted with my hands, a dead giveaway that I was there for more than just a quick hello.
“It’s funny you should mention seeing me,” I hedged quietly, shifting in the wood chair. It creaked under me. “Because I actually was thinking of having you and Dad over for a barbecue.”
She leaned back. “A barbecue?”
I nodded.
She cleared her throat. “Paisley, do you really trust yourself near an open flame? Remember when you tried making me a birthday cake all those years ago?”
I huffed. “That was, like, ten years ago. And the firemen put out the flames before they did any serious damage.”
“Babe, your father had to repaint the walls.”
I glanced at the coat of grey paint. “You guys always mentioned touching them up anyway.”
She chuckled.
I waved my hand in dismissal. “Anyway, I’m not the one who would be grilling. So, you know the food will be edible.”
She straightened up. “Who’s grilling?”
I clicked my tongue. “Just…a guy.”
She squealed so loud my ears rang. Waving her hands suddenly, her coffee slushed over the sides of the cup. That was when you knew she was shocked, because nobody purposefully wasted coffee without serious consequences in this household.
“A guy?” she repeated, grinning.
When she was excited, her eyes flashed the same color mine were daily—hazel with little flecks of green. I looked identical to Mom, pale skin and all. Same nose, eyes, dark brown hair, and freckles. Only Mom was shorter, standing a cute five feet even.
Whenever Dad or I would tease her about it, she’d make sure we knew that a two-by-four could take us down to her level easily.
We always left her alone after that.
I finally answered, “Yep.”
“A guy is cooking you food?” she repeated.
I looked at the carvings again. “Well, he’ll be cooking us all food if you agree to come over. It isn’t at my apartment, but—”
She abruptly stood up. “Praise puppy Jesus. You’re living with a man. It happened. Oh, the girls at the salon are not going to believe this.”
Confusion arched my brow. “What are—”
“Staci swore you were a lesbian, but I told her she couldn’t be more wrong,” she cut me off, grabbing the phone book and landline from the shelf by the table. “I mean, I’d love you even if you were one, but I know you better than that.”
She started flipping through the pages.
“Mom, what are you doing?”
She stopped, looking up at me. “Calling Staci, obviously. She can’t brag about how her daughter is engaged to be engaged to a doctor like it’s the only news in town.”
I grabbed her hand when she picked up the phone to dial out. “Would you stop! This isn’t some big thing. And I’m not living with Caleb. We’re just having a barbecue at his new house.”
“Oh, what a precious name. Caleb.”
Were her eyes watering? They totally were. My mother was officially the person who cried over the mention of a boy’s name.
I backpedaled, crossing my arms and resting them on the edge of the table. “Staci really thought I was gay?”
“Oh, sweetie. A lot of people did.”
I gaped at her.
“But not me!” she added quickly.
This conversation took a really weird turn. I wasn’t that surprised though, most of the conversations Mom and I had ended way outside the box from where they started.
“So, this boy,” she pressed, putting the phone down and leaning forward. “How did you two meet? And if you’re not living together, why host a dinner at his house?”
This was why I wanted to talk to her alone. She’d want to play twenty questions, which would really be closer to fifty. And when she was satisfied, which was rare, she would promise not to gossip about it and then not so subtly text thirty people the news.
The last time she did that was when I mentioned being interested in Tyler. But now? I had no idea what I was in for. A tagged Facebook post, a group text with my family, or maybe she’d hire a sky writer to announce to the world that I wasn’t gay after all.
“Remember Iris? Caleb is her brother.”
“She’s a pretty girl,” Mom recalled. “Do the looks run in the family?”
Was that her way of asking if he was hot?
Cocoa forgotten, I answered, “Uh, yeah.”
Her grin was huge. “When is the barbecue?”
I picked at the napkin in front of me. “Next Saturday at noon. Do you think you guys can make it?”
She made a disgruntled sound. “Darling, even if we had plans, you bet your ass I would cancel them. Do you know why?”
“To spy on me and Caleb?”
She laughed. “No. I mean, yes, that too. It’s just you’ve never wanted us to meet anyone you’ve liked before, Paisley. I’d like to think that means this is something special.”
I parted my lips, but nothing came out.
I’d always held back telling them about people who came into my life because I was afraid of what they’d think. My parents weren’t judgmental people, but they could tell when somebody was playing me long before I did. If they ever met Nathan or Tyler, they’d force me out of my fantasy.
They would’ve saved me from getting hurt.
“He is,” I agreed after a long moment.
She found my hand and squeezed it. “I speak for both your father and I when I say that we’re happy for you.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
She withdrew her hand and grabbed her coffee, pulling it toward her lips. “So, tell me more about this army man.”
I blinked, noting her sly lips.
“I didn’t tell you he was in the army…”
She gave me a nonchalant shrug. “Dave Chen mentioned it when I picked up dinner the other night at China 19. I guess he mentioned seeing dog tags on Caleb when he delivered to your apartment…”
I was silent.
Fucking Dave Chen.
Staring at Caleb’s front door suddenly made me wonder what kind of realm I was about to walk into. Narnia? Hogwarts? The Hunger Games? With Iris there, it might just come down to a WWE match for the last hamburger.
Caleb’s hand found mine. “You look like you’re going to puke.”
Straightening my blue sweater, I went through a mental list before stepping inside. I’d remembered pants. Check. Shirt. Check. Underwear, despite Caleb telling me they were optional, was a check. The nagging feeling in the back of my head told me I was forgetting something.
I glanced down at my feet, clenching Caleb’s hand.
“Ow,” he muttered, withdrawing like I’d actually hurt him. “What’s wrong?”
Wiggling my toes, I shook my head in disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me I was wearing two different shoes?”
His eyes traveled toward my feet. The ballet flats were both black, but one had a little bow on the top, and the other was a quilted design.
He snorted when he saw the two designs.
He picked me up at my apartment. I was pretty sure it was just an excuse to get me alone, because we spent ten minutes making out in his sedan before leaving. If Caleb hadn’t distracted me, I might have noticed my shoes sooner.
I smacked his arm. “This isn’t funny!”
“It’s kind of funny.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I whined.
“Why would I pay attention to your shoes?”
“You’re always checking me out!”
He thought about it, and then nodded. “Valid point, but it’s not your shoes I’m checking out.”
I backed away from the door, tightening my hand around my purse. “I can’t do this.”
He stopped me, gently tugging me forward. “Pais, they’re just shoes. It can be a new trend, like mismatched socks.”
I deadpanned. “This isn’t the 2000s.”
&nb
sp; “Styles always circulate. Remember that lady at the fair who was wearing neon tights and animal print?”
“She was part of the 80’s throwback booth.”
His lips twitched. “Well…they still make clothes to fit the theme.”
Huffing out a sigh, I glanced back at the door. “They’re going to think I’m an idiot.”
Rubbing my arms, he slowly guided us toward the front door. “Babe, you’re with me. You can’t possibly look like one while I’m around. I’m sure if they do notice, which I doubt they will, they’ll chalk it up to nerves. That’s cute.”
Puppies were cute.
Kittens were cute.
This situation was not cute.
He tapped my chin. “Just take your shoes off. Some people do that when they’re inside.”
I groaned. “But the barbecue is outside.”
He swiped his palm down his face. “You’re exhausting.”
“But you love it.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I froze. The only time I used the L word was with my parents or Mashed Potato. For such a tiny word, it meant a lot.
Caleb stared at me, something flashing in his eyes. “I do love it.”
He made it sound like we weren’t talking about my talent to exhaust him anymore. My heart pounded in my chest when he pulled me into him, brushing our lips together. It was like he was trying to tell me something that he couldn’t put to words yet.
The door suddenly opened, and a deep chuckle that sounded a lot like an older version of Caleb’s cut through the silence. “Well, I imagine you’re what he has to tell us about.”
Heat blasted my face as I backed a safe distance away like we’d just been caught doing something we shouldn’t have been. Caleb chuckled at my red cheeks, hooking his arm around me and drawing me into his side.
“Nice to see you too, Dad.”
They clapped each other’s hands.
Their resemblance was definitely a family trait. His blond hair was peppered with grey, and his eyes crinkled with crows feet when he smiled. Even their up-to-no-good smirk was identical.
He held out his hand. “You must be Paisley,” he said, when I made no effort to speak.
My throat thickened. “Uh…” Name. What was my name? “Yes! Me. That’s…I’m her. Paisley.”
Way To My Heart Page 17