What I want to say though?They’re going to love you almost as much as I do.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
ELLIE
I’m stillshaky from the drive, but having my hand firmly in Matt’s grasp is bringing me some much-needed comfort. It’s also giving me the chance to ogle his massive house as he brings me to the front door. I knew it would be big, but wowee. I would do one of those impressed whistles if I knew how.
The redbrick exterior has ivy crawling up and around the windows and their black shutters. A matching black front door is centered, giving the house a symmetrical look that screamsclassic. The big brass knocker and matching lampposts add to the traditional look and feel. It looks old, but in a way that saysold moneyrather thanoutdated.
I guess I should’ve known it would be big and beautiful—heiskind of rich. I had forgotten that over the past several weeks. Matt doesn’t really do anything that makes you think he has money. Not that this house is ostentatious, but I guess I wasn’t expecting it to be so…perfect. Like those houses on the fronts of magazines, the ones you can only dream about owning one day. It also looks more like a house you’d see in New England over Minnesota—a realization triggering homesickness so suddenly it makes my knees weak.
I wish I could snap a picture and send it to my mom. She loved those damn magazines.
Matt squeezes my hand as we reach the door and looks to me with a smile. And like some kind of tailor-made cure, my homesickness fades as suddenly as it came on. “Ready?”
I do my best to swallow the nerves and give him a nod.
The first thing I see when we go inside is Matt’s mom. I know people always compare men to their dads, but Matt is the spitting image of her. The dark hair, the forest-green eyes, the straight nose…it’s so clear where he gets his beautiful face from. And his mom’s hair might be heavily threaded with gray now, but I’ve also noticed a few more of those coming in Matt’s hair too. Not that I’d tell him.
“You must be Ellie,” she says, walking over. She envelops me in a hug so warm it makes my eyes sting. No one hugs like a mom. “Oh gosh, aren’t you just the cutest thing,” she sighs. “Come sit!”
Shirley moves toward the L-shaped couch in the living room and settles on the side against the floor-to-ceiling windows.Wow.
“Matt has told us so much about you, but he did not mention those freckles. My goodness, you must get a lot of attention.”
My face gets hot and I try to refrain from covering my cheeks with my hands.
Matt groans and gives me an apologetic look. “Should I go put that in the kitchen?”
I look down at the polka dot plant I brought, its pretty pink leaves tempting me to keep it for myself. I’d probably kill it though. I’m a little bit more of a fake-plant lady. It was tricky getting someone from the shopping app to get the right one, but they did a good job picking. Matt has sent me a few pictures of his plants over the past month like a proud plant dad and Iwanted to get him one he didn’t have yet. I reluctantly hold it out. “The instructions say to make sure it doesn’t get too soggy.”
“Not too soggy, got it.” Matt grins at my instructions and takes the plant from me. He turns back to his mom, who’s been waiting patiently on the couch a few feet away from us, big smile firmly in place. “Mom, do you want to take Ellie on a quick tour while I set this in the kitchen and find Dad? I’m sure he’s down by the water even though it’s freezing,” he grumbles fondly.
“Oh! Of course. Here, let me take your jacket first. Then we can go look around,” she says. Despite it nearly being April, I’m still in my heavy parka thanks to the never-ending winter here.
Matt gives me a wink and then disappears, off to the kitchen, I’m guessing. Shirley returns without my jacket and leads me in the opposite direction.
“I keep telling him to decorate, but he never listens. Try not to hold it against him,” she says conspiratorially, giving me a wink just like her son did moments ago.
I laugh at what she said and the obvious similarity between them. If she’s anything like Matt, I think we’ll get along great.
“So how long are youguys in town? Are you doing anything specific while you’re here?” I use the cloth napkins Matt set out to wipe my mouth. He made lasagna and now he’s officially on the hook for cooking sometimes becauseyum.
“Oh, just going to the games mostly. We’re probably staying until he breaks the record, so our timeline is up in the air. We’ll wait to book a return flight until after,” Peter, Matt’s dad, tells me. He’s got lighter gray hair and a rounder face, his eyes a light blue. It seems like all Matt got from him was the tall stature and deep voice.
I think about what he said. “Record?” I look from him to Matt, whose cheeks are getting pink.
“You didn’t tell her?” Shirley chimes in.
Peter looks up from his food to Shirley and then Matt.
“It’s not a big deal,” Matt says, waving his hand dismissively. I hear his dad cough. “They come to town for most milestones,” he says to me.
“That’s so nice,” I say, a little distracted. Record? Milestone? Matt hasn’t mentioned anything, but then again, he’s definitely picked up on my distaste for hockey and probably wouldn’t volunteer that kind of information. Or maybe he’s just being humble? Either way, the thought makes me sad. I should try harder to ask him about his job—his passion. I need to do better. I clear my throat. “What’s the milestone?”
Matt finishes chewing with his eyes on me, a contemplative look on his face. “A thousand assists,” he says casually.
A thousand sounds big, but I don’t really know anything about hockey statistics. “Wow, that’s cool,” I say, hoping it doesn’t sound too dumb.
