Eli winks, and my ovaries flutter. “I’ll be sure to write it down before you leave.”
“Is this beef?” Dad asks, jabbing at the meat with his fork.
“Yes, sir.”
“Delicious,” he says before taking a forkful into his mouth.
“And he didn’t burn the garlic bread. He’s a keeper,” Mom says while picking up a piece of bread.
Chuckling, Eli asks, “How long are you both in town for?”
“We leave after tomorrow night’s game,” Dad answers. “We can only catch one game. Unfortunately, I have a knee replacement surgery in a few days I have to prepare for.”
“Oh wow. That seems pretty serious? Old injury?” Eli asks.
“I used to play some hockey back in my day, and I took a stick to the back of the knee during an exhibition game. I have post-traumatic arthritis as a result, and the operation should provide more mobility and less pain. So we’re taking care of that.”
“Pacey mentioned you used to play.”
“Yes, that was back when we didn’t have all the protective gear you have now. We were real men on the ice.”
Mom guffaws. “More like real idiots.”
Eli and I both chuckle at the same time, which of course causes us to glance at each other, and the warmth I see in Eli’s eyes puts a smile on my face.
“What about you two?” Mom asks, butting into something she shouldn’t. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do when the baby gets here?”
“Not really,” I answer. “Still taking this all day by day. Because of the hockey season schedule, Eli hasn’t been able to go to a doctor’s appointment. Granted, I’ve really only had a few, but it’s all still new.”
“Do you have any ultrasound pictures?” Mom asks.
I wince. “I did.”
“You did?” Eli asks, looking surprised.
“Yes, but, uh . . .” I take a deep breath. “God, this is humiliating. I was at the park, looking at the pictures while eating a pretzel, and mind you, I hadn’t really had anything to eat all day because of nausea, and the pretzel was really hitting the spot. A gust of wind hit me, and the picture blew out of my hand and into the bay.”
“What?” Eli chuckles. “You never told me that.”
“Well, for one, it’s embarrassing. How great of a mom will I be if I can’t even keep pictures safe? And two, I didn’t want to disappoint you, so I didn’t mention it.”
Eli turns to me and places his hand on mine, his large palm covering my hand completely. “Penny, you’re going to be an amazing mom.” My mom audibly sighs. “And if you think about it, you kept the pretzel safe, which is most important, because of nutrients for the baby.”
“Wow,” Dad says. “Way to spin that, son. Well done.”
Eli keeps his eyes on me and says, “I mean it. You’re going to be amazing.”
Okay . . . well, slap me in the ass because I believe heart eyes are beaming out of me, right in front of my parents, over a plate of lasagna. My body and my mind are spewing all the love and affection for the man sitting right next to me. If it wasn’t for my parents sitting across from us, my hand would currently be down his pants, ready and willing to show him how incredibly grateful I am for him.
* * *
Eli setsa bowl of ice cream in front of me, fudge and cherry chunks included.
Is he trying to make me weak in the knees? Because he’s doing a really good job at it.
“I know it isn’t super fancy,” he says, “but Penny has been craving ice cream, so I figured I can’t go wrong with this.”
“Very thoughtful,” Mom says while picking up her spoon. “When I was pregnant with both kids, I craved Ruffles dipped in a milkshake. Joseph dry-heaved every time he watched me devour a bag with a large milkshake.”
