I groan. "My papa wants me to come work for the family construction business. Moretti and Son. He's been planning it since I was born."
"But you're going to med school."
"Which he doesn't know about."
Gavin blinks. "He doesn't know?"
"Every time I try to tell him, he starts talking about all the things he's going to teach me, and I just..." I rub my face. "I don't want to disappoint him."
"Doc." Gavin squeezes me. "You're going to be a doctor. That's not a disappointment."
"That's what my sisters say."
"Smart sisters."
"The thing is, Gabi, my oldest sister, she's basically been running the company for almost a year now. She's amazing at it. She's the son he wanted. But he can't see it because he's so fixated on me."
"So you telling him about med school would actually help her."
I pause. I hadn't thought about it that way. "Yeah. I guess it would."
Gavin kisses my forehead. "Sounds like Sunday dinner is going to be interesting."
"That's one word for it."
"Hey." He tilts my chin up. "Whatever happens, I've got you. Okay?"
"Okay."
He grins. "Now. Tell me everything I need to know to charm the pants off your parents."
So I do. While I dig through my closet for something presentable, I give him the rundown: names, personalities, potential landmines. He listens attentively, asking questions and filing away details as if he's studying for an exam.
I settle on dark jeans and a soft gray sweater that my mamma bought me last Christmas. She'll notice. She always notices.
"Okay," Gavin stands, stretching in a way that makes his shirt ride up and momentarily derails my train of thought. "I need at most twenty to shower and change. Come with me?"
"Yeah. Sure. Twenty minutes."
He kisses me, quick and casual, like it's something we've done a thousand times.
Twenty-three minutes later, I'm not counting, I'm watching Gavin button up a dark green Henley that makes his shoulders look approximately eight miles wide. His hair is actually styled, and he's clean-shaven for once.
"You clean up nice," I manage.
"Gotta impress the future in-laws."
"They're not—we're not—" I sputter, and he laughs, pulling me in for a kiss.
"Relax, Doc. I'm teasing. It's going to be fine."
It's not going to be fine. I can feel it in my bones.
The drive to my parents' house takes twenty-five minutes, during which Gavin quizzes me on everything I told him earlier, making sure he's got it all straight. By the time we pull into the driveway, he's ready.
I'm not.
"Ready?" he asks.
