Elizabeth’s folks’ house is in a suburban neighborhood just outside of Littleton. It looks like one that’s been here for a while, at least twenty years, but every bit that I could see was well-maintained.
I follow Elizabeth out of the car and up to the main door, which she enters without knocking, and I keep pace with her.
“Is she okay?” she asks the minute she sees a beautiful woman who looks just like the woman I love, if not for a few more wrinkles that are barely noticeable.
“She’s calmed down some, never woke up, poor thing.” Her mom has blatant concern in her tone, and though it’s dark in here, I can tell she looks like her daughter when she’s worried. “I’d go on up, hon. I laid some sleep clothes out for you, maybe just stay the night.”
“I will.” Elizabeth starts up the stairs, then stops. “Oh, Derek! I’m sorry. I have to take care—”
“Don’t even worry about it, go. Let me know if I can do anything,” I interrupt, giving her a smile I hope she can tell is genuine.
She smiles back and is off, racing up the stairs to her main purpose in life. If anything, it makes me fall for her harder.
A throat clears, and I turn my attention back to her mother, whose father is now standing behind her.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I’m Derek Fowler.” I reach out a hand to her mother, who takes it gently.
“Valerie. This is Birdie’s dad, Roger.”
Shaking his hand, I give him a nod. “Pleasure to meet you both,” I wave a hand at the stairs. “Wish it wasn’t for this reason.”
“You and us both.” Valerie waves a hand down the hallway and says over her shoulder, “Come, have a cup of something.”
Unsure if I should make myself scarce given the late hour or follow Valerie’s orders, I stand there long enough that Roger gives me a nod. “Come on, son. You earned a drink.”
I follow, not sure how I went from clubbing with friends to immediately meeting Elizabeth’s—the woman of my dreams—parents.
Their house is absolutely gorgeous. Since it’s built in a generation that used real material, there are wood fixtures on everything, all shined and sparkling like someone took great care of it.
The kitchen looks custom with white granite countertops and a large island, and barstools slid underneath the edge. Roger gestures to one and takes one a couple down from me.
“Thank you,” I say to Valerie, who hands me a beer.
“Thank you for bringing her home. I’m sure that’s the last thing you wanted to do.” Roger’s words sound like a bit of a threat, or a question I’m not sure how to answer, so I try honesty.
“I have no problem with it. The minute she saw your name on the phone”—I nod at Valerie—“I knew I’d do what I needed to get her to Rora.”
“Rora seems fond of you,” Valerie answers, looking me over. “Says you let her stay up past her bedtime when you babysit.”
I smirk a little and say, “Well, yeah.”
“Babysitting is supposed to be fun,” Roger says, agreeing with me.
“What’s your intention with our girls?”
I blink at Valerie’s serious expression, wondering how I got Elizabeth 2.0 interrogating me, or rather, Elizabeth 1.0.
“Well, I very much like Birdie, she’s important to me,” I start, thinking back over the last few weeks. Every waking moment is filled with thoughts of her. “Rora is a bonus, in my opinion. But I’ve been taking it slow.” My rush to comfort them on not pushing their daughter doesn’t seem to work when Valerie shakes her head.
“Derek, I say this with love, honey.” She leans against the island, and I glance at Roger, who’s watching her with fondness. “If you wait for Birdie to make a move, you’ll be old and gray before it happens.”
For a few long seconds I absorb what she just said, and then I blink in confusion and say, “So you…wantme to pursue her?”
“For weeks we’ve heard nothing but ‘Derek this’ and ‘Derek that.’” She scoffs, waving her hand in front of her. “And now we finally get to meet this infamous Derek, and it’s not because she made the move. It’s because you were man enough to come here and take care of her tonight.”
“Birdie needs a push,” Roger states, looking at me. “If you’re serious about her, if you think that you can handle her and Rora, the package deal, then don’t let her string you along. Take action and take a chance.”
It’s the words I’ve been needing to hear. My friends may needle me constantly about women, and Birdie in particular, but they do it all with such frequency that I never know when to take their advice.Iwas the one who gave advice, not the one who took it.
