“No, no. Of course I?—”
He arches a brow, shutting down my denial.
“I…” I exhale, my whole being sagging. “Nope. But I am glad you’re here. It’s good to see you.”
It’s good to see you?For fuck’s sake. The man has taken you to Pound Town and back, and that’s all you have to say?
“How’s Kane?”
“You can ask him yourself,” he says, his voice kind and even. “But not yet. Right now, I want to know why you’ve been avoiding me.”
“I’m not avoiding you. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel that way. I just wanted to give you space and?—”
“I don’t want space.”
My breath catches. “What?”
Tucking a strand of dark hair behind his ear, he clears his throat. “I mean, we’re, uh, we’re good. Kane is good. I’m good. We’re good.”
“That’s…good.” I chuckle.
One side of his mouth kicks up. “He got a part-time job washing dishes at Bubbe’s Nosh Pit.”
“Oh yeah?” Smiling, I find Kane, who is rearranging the magnets on the refrigerator with Bea. “That’s…good.”
With a laugh, Ezra collects my hands and angles in close. “Hey, let’s not make this awkward. We said we’d see how it went when we got back to the city, right?”
“Right.” I figured we’d have more time to date and fool around before he met my family. Yes, definitely more fooling around.
With his hand at my lower back, he leads me into the dining room, which was a major selling point for my parents when they were shopping for an apartment. The table they chose for the center of the space extends to fit the entire group, plus some, and the floor-to-ceiling windows bring in a ton of natural light and give us an incredible view.
My dad and Asher flank Ezra at the table, and Joey forces me to sit across from him. She guides Kane to sit on my right, then plops into the seat on his other side. Brunch is served family-style, and each time one of us takes a bite of Ezra’s french toast casserole, a moan echoes off the walls.
“I hope you’ll share this recipe,” my mom says, holding her fork aloft.
“Of course, Mrs. Greer.” He’s speaking to her, but he’s looking at me.
I squeeze my thighs together at the memory of being called Mr. and Mrs. Greer when I was discharged from the hospital.
When he winks, I’m certain he’s thinking the same. “It’s my mother’s, so I can’t take all the credit.”
“You’ll have to bring her next time. I’d love to meet her.”
Heart lurching, I jerk my head toward my mom. She’s never shown interest in the parents of the people I’m dating.
“So, Kane,” my dad says. “What do you think about the Big Apple?”
“Dad,” I laugh. “No one calls it that.”
“I want an apple,” Bea shouts from across the table. She migrates from my brother’s lap onto Ezra’s.
Asher murmurs an apology, and Ezra smiles, whispering “no worries.”
“It’s loud,” Kane answers my dad’s question. “But it’s interesting. Thanks for asking, Mr. Greer.”
“Please, call us Ethan and Rachel.” My dad waves a hand, dismissing such formalities.
“So, Ezra, how do you like teaching middle school?” my mom calls from the head of the table.
