The door flung open as Michaela yanked it right out of my hands. “She’s here! Andwiththe boyfriend, damn it.”
“Hah!” Leroy appeared by her side. “You owe me twenty. Michaela bet me that you’d break up with him between Friday and tonight,” he explained with a grin.
“Willa? Let me see this man of yours.” Dad squeezed between Leroy and Michaela and eyed Eng up and down. We were still standing outside the door, blocked from entering by my enthusiastic family.
“Dad, this is Eng. Eng, this is my father, my sister Michaela, and my brother Leroy.” The orc had made a list on his phone which he studied this weekend in an attempt to memorize my various siblings, their spouses, and their children. I’d informed him it would be worse at Christmas with aunts, uncles, and cousins here as well.
Eng stiffened and straightened his shoulders. “Good evening, sir. I am happy to meet you.”
“Sir?” Dad barked out a laugh. “There’s no sir in this house. You can call me Mr. Filipkowski until you marry my daughter, then you can call me Dad.”
Eng extended the whisky. “This is for you, Mr. Filipkowski.”
My father swooned like he’d been presented with the Holy Grail. “Whisky? And my favorite brand? Okay, forget the Mr. Filipkowski, you can go ahead and call me Dad. Or Peter, if you prefer.”
“Dad, let them inside for goodness’ sake.” Charlene nudged my other two siblings aside. “Get in here you two. You’re letting all the heat out.”
I laughed at my sister parroting one of Dad’s stock phrases.
Charlene grabbed Eng’s sleeve, pulling him inside. “I’m Charlene. I take it Willa already introduced you to Leroy and Michaela and Dad. That’s Trey over there, and Terrance. Then that’s James, and Jamie, and Jacob, and Joshua…”
I squeezed through the doorway and shut the door as Charlene recited a litany of names that I guarantee Eng instantly forgot. He clutched the pie as if his life depended on it, and nodded, looking around with a dazed, somewhat terrified expression.
The house was bursting with people. The television blared a football game. Someone was singing off-key. Someone else was yelling about green beans. One of my nieces sprinted by wearing a cowboy hat.
“This is chaos,” Eng murmured.
“This is my family,” I giggled.
“It’s Enzo!” my grandfather shouted, struggling to rise from the sofa.
“Enzo?” I asked, because from his excited greeting, it was clear my grandfather knew Eng.
“That’s what he calls me,” Eng grinned, stepping forward to gently pat the elderly man on the shoulder. “Piotr! I’m sorry I have not been by to the pub for liquid breakfast or to play games with you and the others.”
“Because you’ve been busy with work and with winning my granddaughter’s heart.” The old man’s eyes suddenly narrowed. “Wait a minute. What happened to that girl you were dating before? The one where you screwed up and she never wanted to see you again. Because I don’t want my Willa to be some kind of rebound.”
“The female I told you and the others about is Willa,” Eng hastily told him. “She has forgiven me for my screw up and has agreed to see me again.”
“Well in that case, welcome to the family.” Grandpa pounded Eng on the biceps. “When’s the wedding?”
“Holy crap, Willa. This is your hockey player? The goalie? Look at him. He’s built like a container ship.” Trey reached out a hand to shake Eng’s.
“Is that Willa? Did she bring her man?” Mom and Grandma emerged from the kitchen. “Oh Lord, is thathim?”
Good grief. Football had been abandoned, my siblings and their spouses, and their children all crowding around us.
“Mom, Grandma, this is Eng. Eng this is my mother and grandmother.”
“Ooo, he’s a big one, isn’t he?” Grandma pushed her way through the crowd then stood and eyed Eng like he was a prized livestock animal. “Look at those shoulders. And those arms. I’ll bet he could carry a lot of groceries.”
“He could,” my mother mused.
“Mmmm.” Grandma reached out to poke at Eng’s arm. “Strong boy. Good for heavy lifting. Can he cook?”
“No, ma’am. I am very good at ordering food at restaurants.” Eng shifted awkwardly.
“Then you better get your credit card ready because you shouldn’t expect Willa to do all the cooking once you’re married,” Terrance commented.
