Page 86 of Sweeter Than Fiction

“I’ll be right back, beautiful. I’m going to go grab our bags out of the truck.”

“Okay,” I say, continuing my tour to try to see how Donovan McDowell grew up.

There’s not quite as much stuff in here, but it has the same homey feel as the rest of the house. It’s a far cry from his stark white apartment back in New York. There are not nearly as many photos in here, but there are a few.

One of them is him when he was younger—elementary school age—wearing a baseball uniform. Another is of him in a tuxedo with a cute girl in a prom dress.

When he comes back in, I hold up the framed photo. “Should I be worried about this girl?” I tease.

“I doubt it. She’s a lesbian now.”

“She slept with you, and she decided to start batting for the other team? I have to say I’m a little shocked by that.”

He gives me a sly smile. “Back then, I wasn’t nearly as good at it.”

“You two were a cute couple,” I say.

“My mother insisted we frame the photo. She said it was the only time she’d ever seen me in a tux, and she was worried she’d never see it again.”

“What were you like in high school, Don?” I ask.

“I was pretty tall and lanky until about junior year. Then, I started to thicken up a little.”

I look him up and down. “A little?”

“Hey, I didn’t become the glorious specimen you see before you until I started doing manual labor for a living.”

I start giggling and lean up on my tiptoes to kiss him. “Your mom seems really great,” I tell him.

“Oh, just wait until breakfast. I’m sure she’s going to ask you questions like you’re being deposed. No, scratch that. She’ll make it much nicer than that. It will be like you’re on a late-night talk show.”

“Eh, I’m sure we will be fine,” I say the words, and I pray that they are true. I can tell how close Don and his mom are. What if she hates me? I would never make him choose between me and his family.

My head immediately starts to run wild with the what ifs.

Don takes note. “Abs, what’s wrong? Where did you just go?”

“Just hoping that your mom likes me.”

He pulls me close, wrapping his arms around my waist. “She’s going to love you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she has excellent taste.” He smiles at me. “And you’re amazing. Once she realizes how much I love you, there’s no way she can do anything but follow suit.”

It isn’t long before Denise is calling us for breakfast.

When we go back into the kitchen, I see that she has put out a full spread. Not only is there delicious-smelling bacon, but there’s also eggs and biscuits and gravy.

Usually, I’m not a huge breakfast person. Okay, let me rephrase that. I love breakfast food, but usually, when I do eat it, it’s for dinner. In the mornings, I’m basically a walking zombie, so I usually opt for coffee or an energy drink and some kind of protein bar or smoothie—not because I am trying to be health-conscious, but because I’m lazy, and those options are easy.

We sit around the small kitchen table and dish out some food onto our plates. Everything tastes amazing.

“So, Abby, how did you and Donovan meet?”

I give a small chuckle. “Well, we are neighbors. One day, after I had a really bad date with a jerk, he saw me crying and showed up at my door to make me feel better.”

She gives her son a pointed look. “And how exactly did you make her feel better, Donovan?”

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