Ember’s head rested on my shoulder while she traced a circle over my heart, twirling her finger in the light hair that grew there.
“We should probably get up soon,” she mumbled, but her tone lacked conviction. “Mom texted last night. They’ll be here the twenty-third. That’s three days. We haven't started shopping yet.”
I sighed, though I didn't mean for it to come out so dramatic. I wanted to be excited for Ember's parents' visit, but I was nervous.
“Three days to turn this place into a holiday inn and convince your parents I’m not some mid-life crisis in human form.”
Ember lifted her head, chin propped on my chest. Her eyes were bright and amused. “Mid-life crisis, Nate… We just dealt with a whole town over this. You're not too old for me."
“Tell that to the mirror when I’m trying to keep up with a toddler in a few years.” I brushed a knuckle along her cheek and chuckled. “Your dad’s what—fifty-eight? He was probably hoping you’d bring home someone who doesn't remember dial-up internet.”
She snorted and then sighed, propping herself on an elbow. “Dad remembers dial-up. He also remembers when I was twelve and swore I’d never date anyone who owned more than one tie. You own three. You’re already overachieving.”
I rolled my eyes, but the knot in my stomach stayed put. “I just… I want them to see I’m serious about you. I'm not a predator or something…"
Once the idea had lodged itself in my brain, there was no getting it out.
I felt like everything my father had said to me had merit, and now it wasn't him I had to convince.
It was Ember's parents, and I wasn't sure what sort of people they were.
Ember shifted again so she could look at me straight on. “Listen to me.” Her voice was gentle.
I got the sense she was ready to use her Mom voice. “My parents aren’t blind. All they want is for me to be happy, Nate. After everything I went through, they won't care if you're Santa Claus. They just want me safe."
I swallowed. “And the age thing?”
She shrugged, a small, unconcerned lift of one shoulder. “Mom married Dad when she was twenty-three and he was thirty-one. That's eight years.”
She paused, then repeated, softer, “They just want me safe. And happy. You make me both."
I searched her face, looking for any flicker of doubt, but there wasn’t any. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” She leaned in, kissed the corner of my mouth. “Besides, I'm sure my dad’s already planning to interrogate you over eggnog."
I groaned, but the knot loosened. “Great. I hate eggnog.”
“Then lie,” she said, grinning. “Tell him it’s your favorite. He’ll love the honesty of your terrible taste.”
I laughed despite myself and felt better for opening up.
There was something magical about talking to her that always helped me feel better.
“Shopping,” I said, suddenly remembering. “We still need half the list. Your mom’s gluten-free, right? And your dad wants that weird bourbon that only comes in the blue bottle?”
“Gluten-free and the blue bottle,” she confirmed. “Also, Mom says no tree is complete without tinsel, even though it gets everywhere.”
I rubbed a hand over my face. “We’re those people now, who panic-buy tinsel on December twenty-second.”
“Welcome to adulthood,” she teased.
I stole one more kiss then rolled out of bed, offering her my hand.
She took it, and I pulled her up and out of bed.
No matter what her parents thought, I knew Ember and I were good for each other.
If we could convince my father to support us, we were just a few steps away from controlling the world.
