Elastic Hearts (Hearts #3)(60)

“I’m fine,” I said with a smile. “Come meet the people responsible for making the hottest man you’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Nicole laughed beside me. “Oh my God.”

I shrugged. Before I could say anything else, my mother walked toward us with a huge smile on her face, light eyes trained on Nicole.

“Hi. I’m Hannah, Victor’s mom. It’s so nice to meet you, Nicole,” she said, walking up to her and giving her a hug. Nicole smiled, a little blush on her cheeks when she pulled back. She gave me an embarrassed glance that I’d never seen and wish I could record and watch forever.

“It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for having me over,” she said.

“Of course. Make yourself at home. Thomas. We have a guest,” my mom shouted, taking Nicole by the hand and dragging her forward.

“Mom, she’s not going to run away, you know,” I said.

My mom looked over her shoulder and shot me a pointed look, mouthing the words “shut up.” I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me. I mouthed the word “client” as a reminder, and she shrugged. I walked behind them and into the kitchen, where my dad also greeted Nicole with a hug.

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“Argentina,” she said, smiling.

“Argentina. Beautiful place. Hannah and I have been there a couple of times. Great people. I’m Puerto Rican, and when I lived back home I made some connections in Argentina,” he said as way of explanation.

“Oh, that’s so cool. What do you do?” Nicole asked.

“I’m an orthodontist. It was cooler before I decided to slow down and stop traveling.” He laughed when my mom nudged him in the ribs. “But of course that means I get to spend more time with my lovely wife,” he said, pulling my mom into a side hug.

“You guys are gross,” Estelle said. “Also, I set the table.”

“Let’s eat,” my mom said.

We sat around the table, Oliver and Estelle on one side, me in my usual seat across from them, and Nicole in the normally empty seat beside me, while my dad sat at the head and my mom at the other end.

“I hope you eat carbs,” my mom said, bringing out the first dish: waffles. Estelle stood and went to help her.

“I eat everything. Do you need help?” Nicole replied.

“No, no. Stay right there. I don’t want Victor to have an early heart attack because we made one of his girl . . . friends work the first day he brought her over,” my mom said.

I tucked my hand under the table and reached for Nicole’s hand over her lap. She jumped at the notion, and I ran my thumb over her soft hand. I wanted to pull her close and kiss the hell out of her. Our fingers threaded around each other as if on autopilot, as if we held hands every day. It felt . . . right. It reminded me of what I had told Corinne about why I had never settled down. I couldn’t deny that the ease I felt with Nicole by my side, with my family, felt right.

“What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?” I asked.

“Eight in the morning. It’s supposed to be a twelve-hour day,” she said. I leaned closer to her.

“Would you mind leaving your car here today and picking it up tomorrow after work?” I whispered in her ear. Her eyes widened as I backed away. She shook her head, then leaned in and whispered in mine.

“I don’t have extra clothes, though.”

“Neither do I. We can stop somewhere along the way.”

She smiled, a big, happy smile. “Okay.”

Breakfast was great. Oliver talked about the kids at work. I tried not to talk about work at all, which brought on a conversation about what a workaholic I was. Nicole talked about her job, which had Estelle and my mom enraptured. My mom practically begged her to design a dress for a friend’s daughter’s wedding.

“She’s been looking everywhere for somebody. Don’t you think this is the perfect solution?” she asked when I told her to please stop.

“That’s not what Nicole does,” I said defensively.

“I can,” Nicole said. I looked at her, trying to read her and make sure that she was okay with it. She didn’t know how annoying my mom could get about things she wanted to get done.

“She can be difficult to work with,” I said, squeezing her hand a little. “You have a lot on your plate.”

“I can handle everything on my plate.”

That smile accompanying the words with made me want to be everything on that goddamn plate. Once we were done eating, my mom, Nicole, and Estelle went off to the office room to talk about the dress, and my dad, Oliver, and I went to the living room to watch college football.

“Are we on for tomorrow?” Oliver asked every weekend and every weekend for over ten years I’d always responded a solid yes. This time, I hesitated. Sure, I’d have Nicole back in time for work, but I also had to meet with Quinn, and that was a priority to me.

“I’ll have to let you know in the morning,” I said. Oliver balked.

“You’re . . . kidding.”

“I have work to do tomorrow.”

His eyes widened. He looked around, at my dad, who was dozing off on the recliner, the television, as if Lee Corso had the answers to whatever question he had, and finally he looked at me again, jaw still dropped.