“What I really want is to go back to five minutes ago, when everything was going so well, and you were being so perfect with my nieces that I was considering having you put a baby inside me when we get back to your place.”
Although it’s a joke, the words have a lot more weight than I intended, especially since we haven’t talked about children yet. Jake’s a little troubled too, and I internally scold myself for piling on more complications to this already tense moment.
“Well,” he says after a while, “now I want to go home and pretend we’re doing that. We’ll call it training before the real thing.”
I release a breathy and reassured giggle. We’re on the same wavelength, as always, and no matter what happens, things will be fine between us.
“I love you, Jacob Clarke,” I assert, framing his dashing face between my hands. “And I know in my heart that as long as we stick together, things will be fine.”
“I love you, Genevieve Kensington. And again, Australia is a great alternative if tonight goes to shit.”
“I’d face the venomous snakes, human-eating sharks, and crawling bugs for you.”
“And I’d face your parents. A much harder task, if you ask me.”
I laugh again before pulling him in for a kiss, recharging our courage and strength.
As we head back to the others, I see Jake rolling down his sleeves. “That’s useless, wombat. Unless you can wear gloves and a turtleneck.”
“Shit, why didn’t I think of that?”
I take his hand, interlocking our fingers together. “Don’t hide who you are. Be exactly as I love you.”
“Your parents won’t appreciate it.”
“Then they’ll miss out on someone fantastic.”
When we enter the living area, Malory comes to us with an apologetic look on her face. “Gen, I’msosorry. I thought Ger texted you, and he thought I did. We’ve been so busy with work, the girls, and Camellia’s therapy that it completely slipped our minds.”
“We’re good, I think. Jake will be his charming, lovable self, and my parents might act like sensible human beings for once in their lives.”
“Okay, great. Because they are coming up right now,” she says with a wince.
My heart drops down to my stomach, a dreadful shiver crawling up my back under the dress. My skin there is probably covered with a rush of cold sweat, and I hate the ghastly feeling twisting my guts. Why must things be so complicated?
Gerry is out of sight, probably waiting for our parents in the entryway, and we sit back on the couch with Mal. Jake’s hand is still in mine. His iron hold is unrelenting, but he doesn’t squeeze or hurt me.
“How did you two meet, by the way?” Mal asks, probably trying to jump-start a conversation as we wait.
Jake and I exchange a slightly panicked look, both realizing our mistake. Why didn’t we think of that? Why didn’t we come up with some elaborate lie to explain how two people as different as we are ended up in a relationship?
Weirdly enough, the front door opening saves us from this uncomfortable moment. The relief instantly dies when I hear Vivienne’s voice. “Can you believe this traffic? Next time, we’ll take the helicopter,” she pesters from the hall.
“Maybe it’s a good thing we didn’t fly out to DC after all,” Father adds.
I only realize that I’m clamping Jake’s hand when his thumb gives me a soft caress, so I loosen my grip. As soon as they come into view, preceded by Gerry, I nervously spring to my feet, ripping my hand away. My heart’s hammering in my chest as I watch them come further in, and it suddenly stops when their attention narrows on Jake. He stands once they’re near, and I guess he has clammy palms as well when he wipes them down the front of his pants.
Mal’s the first one to greet them, and then it’s my turn to offer a single kiss to my mother and father.
“This is—” My voice breaks, cut off by my nerves. “This is Jacob Clarke. I’m—We’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months.”
I don’t even think I’m breathing as they take him in, their haughty looks assessing him from head to toe. Mother’s eyebrow quirks up with judgment, and my father’s lips stiffen into a thin line.
Jake’s the one courageously breaking the silence. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Kensington. You’ve raised a wonderful woman,” he diplomatically says, pressing a hand in the middle of my back and extending the other one to shake theirs.
My father takes in the tattooed forearm and knuckles for a few seconds and eventually shakes Jake’s hand. Then my mother does the same, and I’m amazed that they aren’t already voicing their discontent.
The girls compliantly come when their mother calls for them, and horror appears on Mother’s face.
