Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 121755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Mom turned to Robbie, who I belatedly noticed was staring hard at Gabe. “What do you think? The Botanical Gardens? The Japanese Friendship Gardens? I know! We’ll walk Papago Park!”
Robbie stopped staring at Gabe and slipped into his I’m-in-the-city-and-I-just-wanna-do-my-time-without-murdering-anybody mode, so he just grunted.
Mom pulled her phone out of her bag. “Here, I’ll show you your options and you can decide.”
I pressed to Gabe’s side.
“See,” I said softly. “It’s fine.”
Gabe didn’t stop scowling at his father.
“We’re not done talking about this,” he threatened his dad.
“I suspect not,” Mike said to his son, but he was smiling.
Gabe grabbed my hand and dragged me to the staff room.
Once we were there, he pulled me in front of him and asked, “You okay?”
“Well, that has to linger around the top zone of the weirdest, most awkward meet the parents in history…”
When the wrath reentered Gabe’s face, I went on and fast.
“But it’s done. Mom will look after them. Robbie will grunt occasionally to confirm he’s still alive. And I’ll see if I can make a booking for dinner. What do you think? Chelsea’s Kitchen? Maybe Trevor’s? That’s a bit more casual. Mom and Robbie aren’t fussy. So anywhere would be fine with them.”
“I’ll figure something out, cupcake.”
“All right.” Since he wasn’t over it, I said, “They’re just worried about you.”
“I’m a grown-ass man.”
He sure was.
“And my parents are worried about me too,” I pointed out.
“And you’re a grown-ass woman.”
True.
“So, say you had a son who endured what you did,” I began.
Bizarrely, at my opener, his eyes lit with interest and his hands came to my hips.
“Or a daughter who went through what I did. What would you do?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t drive ten hours and disturb my son’s woman at work.”
I didn’t believe him.
“You sure?” I pushed.
“Babe.” He sighed. “I hear you. And it’s sweet, you bein’ nice about this. But what they did is not okay. I’m pissed at them, but I’ll get over it. I’m pissed at Luke for abetting it, but I’ll get over that too. I’ll be over it by dinner so we can have a nice meal. But none of that takes away the fact I gotta have a chat with them, not only about how I expect them to treat you, but how I expect them to respect my choices and understand I got a brain in my head, so I’m not gonna make the same mistake twice.”
I could see why he’d need that, so I nodded.
His fingers flexed on my hips. “Now, you want kids?”
Yikes!
So, apparently, we weren’t going at the speed of light with this relationship.
We were going Star Trek Enterprise warp speed.
I mean, we’d been there for all of three days, and we’d done the meet-the-parents.
Now we were talking kids.
“Yes,” I answered.
“How many?”
“Well, I’d like to see how I feel pregnant before I make a firm choice on that, but if pregnancy doesn’t totally suck, two.”
“Two works.”
That didn’t sound definitive.
“You want more?”
“I have a sister, and I like having a sister. So I’d like a boy and a girl. If that doesn’t happen the first go, I wouldn’t mind trying another time. But if you’re done at two, then we’ll stop at two.”
If you’re done…
Then we’ll stop…
Not “my woman” or “my wife is done.”
Totally warp speed.
“You think Lucia would set me and the boys up with some of those fried things I saw on their table?” Gabe asked.
Okay…
Shoo.
He seemed to be getting over his parents showing and the kid talk was done so…
Onward.
“I think that can be arranged,” I answered.
“Awesome,” he muttered, and dipped in for a kiss.
I happily accepted his kiss (it was wet this time, only a little, but it was a nice little).
We headed out.
He went to the restaurant.
I went to Lucia.
Our parents (and Luke) ordered the Bolognese and decided on a gender split: the women to the Botanical Gardens, the men to some Harley dealership (and this meant Robbie spoke words while we were gone).
They left and SC was normal again, or as normal as SC could get.
Lucia had no problem with me baking while she cooked after my shift was over.
So oddly, even after that latest drama, life was good.
Actually great.
Regardless that my relationship was going so fast, my hair was metaphorically on fire.
Later that night, after Gabe wisely took us to The Porch for dinner (casual, hearty bar food, sports on TV everywhere, quiet enough Mom and Shelby could gab, sporty enough Mike could keep an eye on all the scores, lowkey enough Robbie was comfortable—see! Gabe was a miracle worker!), we wandered into his house.
Mike had finagled his wife being a worried, protective mom into a very long weekend at the Biltmore resort.
Mom and Robbie were staying at mine.
Arthur had reported he’d have a full brief on Amy and Dexter and his crew tomorrow.
This was good, because Duane shared that the drops were supposed to take place on Saturday night, so we’d have time (though, not much) to find out who we were dealing with, also time to plan whatever it was we were going to do.