Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 70037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
With the table set, and the food that needed to be heated back up warmed and waiting for us to dig in, I watch Gaston pull into my mom’s driveway with my stomach in knots.
“Is he here?” Mom asks as she pulls the ham from the oven and carries it to the table.
“Yes.” I start toward the back door but stop and turn to look at her. “Please be on your best behavior.”
Her brows come together. “Since when am I not on my best behavior?”
“I don’t know.” I raise my hands in the air. “Since when do you decide on a whim to go on a cruise and admit you enjoy gambling?”
“Right.” She laughs. “I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.” She crosses her heart. “Now, go get your guy.”
I let out a breath, open the door, and head down the steps as Gaston gets out of his car, holding a bouquet of flowers. When I see them, my nervousness starts to slide away and my heart warms.
“Hey,” I say softly once we’re toe to toe, and he grins as he captures me behind my neck with his free hand and tips his head down as I lean up and touch my mouth to his.
When his lips leave mine and my eyes open, I find him studying me. “You okay with this?”
“Yes.” I rest my hands against his abs. “I’m a little nervous, but I want you two to meet.”
“It’s going to be all good.”
“I know.” I look at the flowers and then him and raise a brow. “How did you manage to get flowers on Christmas Day?”
“Cammy.” He smirks, looking pleased with himself. “She bought three bouquets for the table, so I asked if I could have one to give to your mom.”
“You really are an overachiever. You know that, right?”
He chuckles, kissing my forehead, and then turns me into his side, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “I just want to make a good impression.”
“Like you could ever make a bad impression.” I wrap my arm around his back and walk up the driveway. When we reach the back door, I step into the house before him and find my mom trying to pretend like she hasn’t been looking out the window since I walked outside. Her eyes smile as she takes in Gaston and the flowers he’s holding, and she comes toward us.
“Mom, this is Gaston. Gaston, my mom, Dorothy.”
“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” He bends to kiss her cheek; then he passes her the flowers when he leans back.
“You too.” Mom’s smile is so big I’m afraid her face might crack. “Thank you for these. That’s very sweet of you. I hope you’re hungry.”
“Starved.” His hand finds mine, and he gives my fingers an affectionate squeeze.
“Honey, take Gaston and get settled at the table. I’m going to put these in water and get our drinks.”
“I can help,” I tell her.
“I got it.” She waves me off. “What would you like, Gus? I have tea, wine, and I might even have a beer somewhere in the back of the fridge.”
“Tea is fine,” Gaston tells her, and she nods, then looks at me. “Wine?”
“Yes, please. Thanks, Mom.”
“No problem. Go get seated. I’ll be there in just a minute.”
I lead Gaston to the table and smile as he holds out my chair before sitting next to me. I look at the table and my mom’s place setting at the head of the table, feeling a little melancholy all of a sudden. I haven’t reached out to my father since our run-in at the grocery store, and I honestly don’t know if I will. But this moment, with Gaston meeting my mom, makes me wish things were different—that my dad was meeting him too, that my parents were still together, and that I would get to experience them sitting down to a meal with the man I’m pretty sure I’m in love with. It’s sad I will never get to experience that, and heartbreaking when I think about having kids one day and them maybe not ever having a relationship with their grandfather.
“You okay, baby?”
Gaston’s question pulls me from my thoughts, and I turn my head to look at him. “Yeah, just thinking about my dad.” I shrug, and his expression turns stormy. Even with him encouraging me to reach out to my dad, he’s pissed that my father hasn’t tried to contact me. If I’m honest, I’m pissed at him too. I feel like if he cared about me at all, he would have called to make sure I was okay and to see when we could meet to talk about things.
“Fuck,” Gaston growls angrily, and I know I shouldn’t have said anything.
“I’m fine. Just ignore me.” I pat his thigh, and his eyes narrow on mine. “Seriously, I’m fine.”