Rock Bottom Girl(88)
I laughed again and wiped at the corners of my eyes. “I had no idea you would get along so well with them.”
“They won’t hate me for this?”
“Are you kidding? You’re their people, Jake.” I rolled to my side and pressed a hard kiss to his cheek. “This was really great.”
“You’re really great,” he said, suddenly serious. He cupped my face in his hand and kissed me long and slow.
My lady parts sent up flares of interest. I opened my mouth for him. This was a real kiss. All of this felt too real. I was in over my head, but I didn’t feel interested in saving myself. I was content to drown.
“Cake’s cut!” my dad yodeled from the kitchen.
“Come home with me tonight,” Jake said roughly.
“Again?” We had work in the morning. I needed my coaching gear and lunch.
“Come on, Mars. Don’t send me home alone.”
“Aren’t we moving a little fast?”
“What other speed is there?”
52
Marley
I tried to run off my nerves about meeting Jake’s mother. Four slow miles later, I still had a bellyful of anxiety, but I could afford all the calories that a birthday dinner entailed. So I considered it a win.
I showered, changed my outfit four times, and did a reasonable job on my hair and makeup thanks to the tutorials my team posted on our message board.
“Meeting the parents is a big deal,” Natalee had explained sagely.
They explicitly told me not to half-ass my preparations. I felt obligated to post a picture of the finished product for their approval.
The picture was met with a series of thumbs-up emojis and several “You’re going to be late!” messages.
I swung by Jake’s house and picked up my two handsome dates for the evening. Jake was sexy as sin in jeans, a tight waffle-weave shirt, and a down vest. I wanted to strip him naked and lick every inch of his spectacular body. But we were running a little late. After a very thorough kiss, he and Homer—wearing a celebratory bow tie—joined me in my car, and we headed across town with Jake directing me to his uncles’ house.
We pulled up in front of a classy, two-story brick home with a portico and creative landscaping. I took my time checking my makeup and grabbing my purse.
“You don’t have to be nervous,” Jake said from the passenger seat where he was watching me with amusement.
“I’m meeting your mom,” I insisted. “If I weren’t nervous, I’d be considered a sociopath.” Andrea had walked me through my nerves yesterday at school, and I wished I would have retained more of what she’d told me. Something about me being an adult and a nice one at that. So I should go into the situation expecting to like them and be liked in return.
It made sense at the time. But now that we were here, I wasn’t so sure it was a good strategy. I should have brought everyone scratch-off lottery tickets or cash. People liked people who gave them cash, right?
“The sooner you get out of the car, the sooner I can put a beer in your hand,” Jake said.
I was out from behind the wheel and on the sidewalk in a flash.
Jake was still laughing when he opened the front door without knocking or ringing the bell. Homer, obviously at home here, ran in the direction of the scent of rich food.
Two toddler-aged kids hurled themselves at Jake, screaming in what I could only assume was delight.
He picked them up like sacks of potatoes and submitted to their sloppy kisses and squeals of joy.
“Someone help! I’m being attacked by rabid children,” he called.
Adeline poked her head out of a room and padded toward us barefoot. “You’ve been vaccinated, right?” she said, pulling the smaller kid off Jake. The foyer filled with people, and I was shuffled through introductions, handed sticky children, and promised alcohol.
“I’m Louisa,” Jake’s mom said, introducing herself over the din.
“Happy birthday, Louisa. I’m Marley,” I shouted back.
His mom was delicate and fine-boned. Her wardrobe taste trended toward affordable athleisure, and I felt an instant kinship with her when she shoved a beer into my hand and pointed me in the direction of the appetizers.
There were kids everywhere. The adults congregated in the kitchen near the trendy trays of appetizers.
I’d met Max at poker. He wasn’t wearing the Queer t-shirt tonight. Instead he was in a rumpled long-sleeve tee. His hair was still damp from a shower. Lewis introduced himself by pushing a delicate cheese wonton-like thing into my hand, and I fell madly in love with him. He was the fashionista in the family apparently, dressed in charcoal slacks, a dark purple shirt, and suspenders. My players would adore him, I decided.
The house was a perfect balance between Lewis’s style and Max’s love of gadgets and order.
Rob, Adeline’s husband, refilled drinks and then corralled the kids at a table in the kitchen for gourmet kid-sized grilled cheese sandwiches.
I could have felt awkward, standing in the midst of a chaos the rest of them were so comfortable with. But with a cold beer in my hand and Jake’s arm around my waist, I felt anchored. Almost relaxed.
The Weston family was bigger than mine. Slightly less dignified. Zinnia would raise eyebrows over the kids’ food fight. And the argument that broke out between Rob and Max over eighties rock ballads. But to me, it made them normal.