“You can smell that I...” Her cheeks burned.
“Missed me? Yeah.” He bumped his hips to hers. “And you canfeelthat I missed you, too.”
Sophie was lost in the kiss, crisp air, warm scents of chocolate and pastry teasing her nostrils, and Jesse’s hard bulge teasing something else.
“Jess-eee! Bring that girl inside! It’s thirty degrees out there! You’re not even wearing a coat!”
They sprang apart at the sound of the voice. “Ah. That’s my mom.”
“I guessed,” Sophie smiled. “Do you think she’ll like me?”
“I think she’ll love you.”
MRS. SMITH, (PLEASEcall me Grace), looked like she should have been Jesse’s grandmother, not his mother. Although her face was youthful and her smile was beautiful, Sophie couldn’thelp notice the signs of age around her eyes and in her hands. That must be so hard, Sophie thought, watching yourself age, but your child is stuck in place. Not growing up and starting a family, finding a career, getting all the accolades. Always living in the shadows in case someone asks too many questions. Speaking of questions, Grace was clearly bursting with them. They made small talk over the chocolate and donuts, but as soon as the plates were carried to the sink, Grace seemed to zero in on the couple clasping hands at the table.
“Jesse?”
“What, Mom?”
“Did you bring Sophie’s things in from the car yet?”
“No, I’ll go get them.”
Sophie started to rise. “Oh, I can—”
“No, dear, let Jesse be a gentleman. He hasn’t had the chance to squire a lady around town in years, much less play the host.”
“Oh, God, Mom. Don’t embarrass me.”
“It’s my sacred duty,” she kissed the top of his head fondly as he rose from the table and she reclaimed her seat.
“Well, please don’t embarrass Sophie, then,” Jesse gave his mother a stern glare that ended with a hopeless smile.
As the door shut, Sophie swallowed.
Grace swallowed as well, fiddling with the wedding band she now wore on her right hand, slipping it up and down the space under an age-swollen knuckle. “Jesse was so excited you were coming here. And he’s excited to go visit your family in Philadelphia, too.”
“My parents can’t wait to meet him.”And interrogate him. If Daddy’s bad cop routine doesn’t work, Mom will just stuff him full of Armenian food until he talks.Sophie smiled nervously.
“It’s... nice that you don’t mind his lifestyle. Jesse told me not to call it that. I’ve tried calling it his ‘special diet’, ‘disadvantage’, or his ‘disability’ and he told me not to say that, either.”
“I love Jesse. I don’t plan to stop loving him because of his needs, his lifestyle, or his diet. He’s smart and sweet, and he’s an amazing person. You couldn’t have raised a better son. Really,” Sophie said, impulsively reaching for Grace’s hand.
“Oh, thank you! Thank you. I... I was shocked when it happened. Sometimes I wondered if I was selfish, being happy that he was here when his life could never be the same.” Her eyes flickered, mouth tightening. “Oh, and his father... Well, it was hard for all of us.” Grace tilted her head, faded blue eyes surveying Sophie quizzically. “But you know about that, don’t you?”
“Soph, there are a bunch of gift bags in the trunk, am I allowed to touch those?” Jesse returned, brushing snow from his hair.
“I’ll get them!” Sophie jumped up.
“I’ll get yours!” Jesse grinned as he sprinted up the stairs.
“I’ll put on the Christmas music!” Grace moved much more slowly from her chair.
Sophie couldn’t tell if it was from age or disappointment.
AN HOUR LATER, AFTERgifts were exchanged and gushed over, Jesse and Sophie sank back into the floral-patterned couch. The long drive and tension of meeting new people, combined with the cozy house and the feel of Jesse’s comforting arm around her shoulders were threatening to send her to sleep. More to stay awake than to make conversation, she tried another attempt at small talk. “Oh, Georgia from the Pine Loft says to tell you hello. I met Mr. Minegold, too.”
“What?” Jesse sat up, knocking her out of her comfy nest against his side. “You met Mr. Minegold?”
