The two of us jump away from each other and look over to see my uncle Matthew standing there, looking both shocked and excited. “Um, they have arrived,” he says over his shoulder.
Chapter 20
Jillian
“They have arrived,” the man says over his shoulder, and his shock and excitement quickly change when he sees my face. “Why is she crying?” He looks over at Michael. “What the hell did you do to her?” He doesn’t wait for any of us to answer. Instead, he shouts again over his shoulder. “Max, your son is making his woman cry,” he says, and I’m about to step forward when I feel Michael put his hand on mine.
My eyes go to his. “This is the crazy,” he mumbles, and I shake my head, looking back at the guy who stands there with his hands on his hips.
“She’s crying, and she looks scared,” he accuses, and all Michael can do is chuckle from beside me.
“I don’t look scared.” I look at Michael. “I’m not scared,” I mumble to him. The sound of feet rushing toward the door has my eyes going big. “I’m fine,” I tell the man standing there.
A woman and a man join him, and I know right away these are his parents. His mother is so beautiful as she stands there with her hair loose and curled at the ends, wearing jeans and a cashmere ivory sweater. I take one look at her outfit and make a mental note to discuss clothing with her. She looks at us, first at me and then at Michael. “What do you mean she’s crying?” the woman says, and I know that this is Michael's mom. They have the same shaped eyes. Her hand goes to her mouth in shock. She looks at me and then looks over at Michael. She glares at him as she hisses, “What did you do to her?” She comes out of the doorway to join us in the hallway. I see another man standing behind her, and I know for sure this is Michael's father. “You had one job. One.” She holds up her finger at Michael, who stands exactly like the other guy with his hands on his hips.
His father comes out and puts his hands on his mother’s shoulders. “Jesus Christ,” he says, looking at me and then at his son. “What the hell did you do to her?”
“Are you okay?” His mother comes forward to me and puts her hand on my arm, and she squeezes. “Did he hurt you?”
“Oh my God,” Michael says from beside me. “Seriously, you think I would hurt her?”
“Well, why is she crying, Michael?” the other man asks, shaking his head. “What did you teach your boy?” He looks over at Michael's father.
“That is all Grant in him.” He crosses his arms over his chest.
“You two,” his mother says to the two guys, “knock it off.” Then she turns back and looks at me. Her eyes so warm and loving, and I’m about to say something when my stomach does a little flutter.
At least, I think it’s a flutter, but then it comes back more like a smashing wave, and my stomach starts to rise, and I look over at Michael with my eyes wide. The panic takes over as the heat rises up my neck. “Bathroom,” I say fast, and he just looks over at me. “Bathroom.” He must see that I’m going to be sick because he swings into action.
“Move!” he shouts to all of them, moving them aside as he runs with me into his house. I don’t have time to look around before I slam the white door behind me and make it to the toilet. The water from the car comes right back up. It’s a good thing my hair is up in a braid. I sit on my knees and close my eyes, trying to get my breathing under control. “In through the nose, out through the mouth,” I say right before I dry heave into the toilet. Closing my eyes, I put my arm on the toilet seat and lay my head down as I slip from my knees to my butt.
I look around, and it just makes it even worse. I’m sitting in what has to be the nicest bathroom I’ve ever been in. The floor is a white marble with gray lines in it, and it’s so shiny I can see my reflection. The marble flows all up the walls to the ceiling. The big floor-to-ceiling window lets all the light in with a big tub right in front of it. It looks like it can fit at least three people.
I look over and see the long white counter on the other side of the room with two white marble sinks and gold faucets. A long gold-framed mirror hangs over it. A glass vase is in the middle of both sinks. The bottom of the vase is gold, and it holds white flowers. There is a small white tray on the side of each sink with soap and hand towels. I’m afraid to touch any of this, and I close my eyes as I hear his words again. “I play for the Dallas Oilers.” The minute he said that, everything clicked. I really wish I could call my sister and tell her because I feel like it’s a dream.