♥♥♥

My mother was visible through the front window, her eyes scanning, processing, and reigning hell before we even opened our doors and got out. Any feisty part of my personality had undoubtedly been a product of her genes. I gripped Brad’s hand and whispered premature apologies as we climbed the front steps. The door opened, and there she stood.

My mother was beautiful; there was no disputing that. Slim and tall, she had curves where it counted, wrinkles noticeably absent despite her hours in the sun, and bone structure that models would die for. Her eyes skipped right over me and fixated on Brad. “Julia, who is this?”

Here goes nothing. “Mom, this is Brad. Brad, this is my mother,” I dutifully recited, squeezing past her and hugging my father, who waited patiently inside. He gripped me tightly, pressing a kiss to my cheek before surveying me approvingly.

“You look good, sweetie. It’s nice to have you home.” My father, thinning hair carefully combed into place, wearing a sweater from the seventies paired with pressed gray slacks, shook Brad’s hand with a friendly smile.

Mother, suddenly remembering her manners, ushered us into the living room, where we sat—me perched nervously on an ottoman, Brad relaxing easily into the couch. We had a moment of peaceful silence before she opened her mouth and flames came out.

“Julia, what’s going on? I wake up this morning to a note from you—you stayed godknowswhere last night—and then you show up with—no offense—a complete stranger! And Luke is nowhere to be found, his truck gone when I woke up this morning!”

“Debra, calm down.” My father interrupted her, reaching over and patting her arm—an action that earned him a glare of Arctic proportions. “Julia just got here. Let her relax for a bit.”

“I’m not calming down until I know what in God’s name is going on!” She balled her hands into fists and turned to me, eyebrows raised.

I took a deep breath and stood. “Mom. As I said on the phone—I broke up with Luke over two months ago. He shouldn’t have been here; he was trying to track me down because I wouldn’t return any of his calls. I spoke to him last night and told him to leave, which is why he isn’t here this morning. He shouldn’t be back again, so please don’t respond if he calls you.”

My last sentence was too much for my mother, whose mouth opened and closed like a large mouth bass. “Don’t respond? Julia, what has gotten into you? You can’t break up with Luke—the boy is in love with you!”

“That’s all well and good, but I didn’t want to marry him, Mom. And I would hope that you, as a supportive mother, would stand by me in this decision.” That shut her up, and she closed her eyes briefly, clasping her hands in an effort to remain composed.

Then Brad spoke, and the shit-storm hit a whole new level. “Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, I apologize for the—”

“I’m sorry, but who the hell are you, and why are you here?” My mother stood, crossing her arms and staring stonily at Brad, intent on steamrolling him into submission. She had no idea who she was up against.

Brad had the nerve to chuckle. “I, Mrs. Campbell, am Julia’s fiancé.”

My mother gaped, glared at me, glared at Brad, and then stepped forward and grabbed my hand. The ring, its size and brilliance, momentarily stunned her, and I saw a wave of emotions cross her face. I knew what she was thinking: my youth, Brad’s age, Luke’s absence, her impressionable little daughter standing before her. I gently pulled my hand back before her thought process moved too much further along.

My father stood, joining the party and clapped his hands together. “Well. Now that that’s all settled, how about we move to the kitchen for breakfast?”

Chapter 11

My mother hadn’t planned on an uninvited breakfast guest; she had expected me, alone, listening to her logical persuasion until Luke returned to his proper place at the table. His cereal, Coco Crisp, stared at me from above the fridge, an adolescent irritation to my already frayed nerves.

Mother scurried, her sneakered feet moving around the kitchen at a frantic pace, the fridge, cupboard, pantry, and then fridge again, all becoming victims to her furious search for something to serve to this man—this much-too-old man who was professing ownership of her daughter. I could feel her nerves; they matched pace with my stress, competing for superiority in the small room. I worriedly met Brad’s eyes across the table.

He had sat at the head, following the directive of my mother, but I could feel her disorientation with his seat, a place she normally took. He was, as always, calm and relaxed, and I twisted a napkin under the table as I listened to my father speak with him.

“... it’s a Chevy. An Impala. I’ve been working on it for a few years now, but just recently begun to dedicate proper time to it. Luke ...” my father paused, his eyes meeting mine across the table. “Luke’s been helping me these last few days, which is the most I’ve done to it in a while.” He coughed and took a sip of coffee.

My mother approached the table at a sudden pace, setting a plate of cold bagels and assorted cream cheeses in front of us. “I’m sorry for not being better prepared; I normally try to keep appropriate food on hand for guests ...” She grimaced, her anguish equally divided over the food choices and the stranger before her, and sat down next to me with a heavy sigh.

“This is wonderful, Mrs. Campbell. He grinned at her, that devastating, gorgeous grin that diminished his fierce features and instantly endeared anyone to his cause. I watched my mother, saw the surprise on her face, and she glanced down quickly, taking a sip of coffee with a shaky hand.

“Mr. De Luca, how long have you been seeing Julia?”

His hand reached out, covering mine, and he gave me a small smile before turning to her. “Two months, give or take. We met through work. My firm had the pleasure of having Julia as an intern.”

The emotions showed clearly on her face as the words flitted through her mind. Two months. My firm. Attorney. “I see. Julia ... reports to you?”

He laughed. “No. I work in family law. Julia was the intern for our corporate law department. We met in passing one day.”

Family law. My mother’s eyes shuttered slightly at that sentence, and I grinned despite myself. I knew what she was envisioning, bedraggled lawyers carrying worn briefcases to and from court, fighting back child-support cases for broke, deadbeat dads. I was grateful for the table hiding my hands, my ring hidden.

“Two months?” My father’s voice came out confused. “Why the rush to get engaged?”

My mother suddenly gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth and looking at me in accusation. “Julia!”

I laughed out loud, knowing what she was thinking, the laugh bubbling out of me and spilling, uncontrollably, onto the table. “God, Mom, I’m not pregnant.” Her face watched me suspiciously, traveling from my face to my stomach and then back to my smile. “I swear.” I looked at my dad, at his pale face. “Dad, I’m not. We’re not getting married until after I graduate in August. We’ll be engaged for a year.”

That announcement relieved her, and she sank back into the chair. “This ... it’s just a lot to take, Julia. I still don’t know why you had to go and break it off with Luke. That boy loves you so much.”

I met her eyes with a warning look. “Mom, that bridge is so far crossed it is ridiculous. I am in love with Brad. I am marrying Brad. With or without your blessing.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Julia. Don’t be dramatic. Of course you’ll have our blessing.” She reached over, rubbed my forearm reassuringly, then turned to Brad. “Now, Brad, what does your family think of this? Have they met Julia?”

My world fell apart right there, with her predictable response, and I begged him with my eyes to have the correct answer to her innocent question.

“I am not close with my family,” he said casually. “They are aware that I am engaged, and Julia will meet my family at Thanksgiving. That is, of course, if you will allow me to borrow her for that holiday?” He grinned sheepishly, and Mom did her best to respond.

“Well ... we wouldn’t want to stand in the way of your plans. Certainly, I’d want your family to get a chance to meet her.”

“I don’t have to, Mom.” I looked up, suddenly aware of the potential parachute before me, ignoring the bemused look Brad was sending my way. “I mean, I know you and Dad like to have me here for Thanksgiving ...” Please. Please. Please.

My flag of distress was ignored by all parties. Mom shrugged, waving her hand casually. “Oh no, Julia. We’ll probably spend it with the neighbors anyway. Go. Get to know his family. That’s more important, especially with a wedding coming up.” Brightness suddenly lit her face. “When is the wedding?”

And with that one thought, Mom fully became Team De Luca. I should have known. My mother, the one who had wanted so badly to plan a fairytale wedding despite Luke’s and my limited budget. Fuck the fact that her loyalty to Luke had, moments before, seemed boundless. Fuck the fact that she knew nothing of Brad’s family. The wedding was the crack that Brad’s easy charisma and my father’s support fully broke open. Three stale bagels and two rounds of hugs later, she became fully cemented as our new biggest fan and we were headed back to our world.

One ex-fiancé and family introduction down.

One terrifying Thanksgiving and whoknowshowmany of Brad’s exes ahead.

Chapter 12