MICAH
Lifting a hand,I knock on Peyton’s front door.
On the other side, a thump sounds. Followed by Peyton saying “shit” and Reese laughing at whatever happened. The lock disengages a second before the door flies open.
“Hi,” Peyton huffs out. “I’m not ready.”
I step in and shut the door. “No worries, I’m early.” I check her head to toe and bite back laughter. “You okay?”
Reese laughs again and Peyton rolls her eyes. “Fine. Just bumped the wall trying to put my shoe on.”
Peyton wanders down the hall to her room and I follow in her wake. Inside, I close the door and sit on the bed. For a moment, I track her rapid-fire movement as she plucks clothes from the closet and dresser, then stuffs them in the bag she brings to the house.
Tonight, she put on a golden maxi dress and black flats that peek out when she walks. Her hair is down in thick, soft waves and stops an inch or two below her mid-back. A light layer of gloss makes her lips shimmer. And with each pass in front of me, I inhale my favorite scent—Peyton’s coconut mint.
She stops within reach and looks around the room. “Got that and that,” she mumbles to herself. She carries on, ticking things off on her fingers.
I lift my hands and grab her hips. “Hey,” I say and tip my head back to see her better. She stops and meets my gaze. “Something wrong?”
“No. Just making sure I have everything. I think I have everything. What if I forget something?” The words spill from her lips faster than her movement around the room.
I rise from the bed and pull her into me. Releasing a hip, I bring the hand to her cheek and caress it with my thumb. “Are you nervous about tonight? About meeting my parents?” Her eyes widen just enough for me to know the answer is yes. “You have nothing to worry about. Mom can be a little much at times, but Dad levels her out. Plus, if she says anything I don’t find appropriate, I’ll open my mouth. She gets excited.”
“What if they don’t like me?”
What a ridiculous question. Who would not like Peyton? Petty bitches of the past, but no one else.
“What if they love you?” I counter, biting my tongue so I don’t add “like I do.”
She huffs and a few strands close to her lips fly up and tickle my face. But I don’t brush them away. Instead, I relish all the contacts and connections we share. Leaning in, I press a chaste kiss to her lips and come away with glossy coconut on mine.
“C’mon. If you forgot anything, we’ll figure it out.” I take her hand in mine and weave our fingers together. With my free hand, I shoulder her overnight bag. “Ready?”
After a deep breath, she nods. “Yeah. Let me grab my purse.”
We say good night to Reese, hop in the truck and toss her bag in the back cab seating. Peyton picks a music playlist from my phone as I steer us onto the highway. The drive is spent with our fingers weaving in and out of each other’s and rock music quietly vibrating from the speakers.
Less than thirty minutes later, I park next to Shelly’s Beetle in Mom and Dad’s driveway. Surprisingly, Shelly isn’t in her car waiting like prior dinner nights. Maybe—hopefully—she tames Mom a bit before we step inside.
Inhaling deeply, I open my door then walk around to open Peyton’s. With her hand in mine, we stroll to the front door in silence. Peyton may be nervous to meet my parents, but I am nervous too. I am nervous Mom may be too eccentric or Dad too dull. Shelly may be a little extra tonight, too, but I doubt it.
After Mom’s declaration of wanting us to find happiness with another person, Shelly and I remain tight lipped when possible. Arranged marriages aren’t really a thing around here anymore, but I wouldn’t put it past Mom to try.
“Ready?” I ask as my hand hovers over the knob.
Peyton nods. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
I twist the knob and the door flies open with Shelly on the other side. “You guys making out?”
Please don’t let this be a precursor for the entire evening. “No, Shelly, we were not making out. This isn’t high school. I act like an adult when necessary.”
“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes at me, then gives Peyton a big smile and hug. “Glad you’re here. Maybe Mom will be less… maybe she’ll just be less.”
Peyton’s eyes widen as she death grips my hand. I stroke the top of her hand with my thumb in reassurance. “It’ll be fine. Quit freaking her out, Shell.”
“Sorry,” she says with a wince.
Inside the house, we follow Shelly toward the kitchen. Hints of garlic and cheese and bread float in the air. Mom asked if Peyton had food allergies, but didn’t tell me what was on the menu tonight. By the smell, I’d guess lasagna. Guess we will find out soon enough.
We round the corner and Mom stops whatever conversation she and Dad are having. She looks from me to Peyton, to our hands and back up to me. The warmest, gentlest smile lights her face as she walks toward us.
“Hey, honey. Glad you made it.” She gives me a longer than normal hug. “And you must be Peyton,” she says. “I’m Nicole. It’s wonderful to meet you.” Without permission, Mom hugs Peyton.
I stare at the embrace with shock and embarrassment heating my cheeks. Mom never hugs strangers. Ever. Peyton and I are in a relationship, but she has never hugged any of my past girlfriends the first time they met.
“Mom, let’s not scare her. Okay?”
Mom detaches her octopus tentacles from Peyton and takes a step back. “Oh, I’m sorry, dear. Don’t know what came over me.”
The oven timer goes off and rescues us from another round of awkwardness. “Be back in a minute,” I announce. “I’m going to show Peyton around the house.”
“Dinner will be on the table in a couple minutes,” Mom replies.