Page 91 of Pucked Up

She laughed harder. “We did. Put a sheet on. I’m going to put you on a FaceTime.”

“I—” The call disconnected, and I looked up at Boden, feeling a bit frantic. “My parents want to meet you.”

“Oh. That’s…”

“Right now.” The FaceTime began to chime, and I grabbed my sheet, pulling it up toward my chest.

“Right now?” He looked like he wanted to throw up.

I answered the call, holding it close to my face so they couldn’t see anything. “I will ring you back intwo minutes.” I ended the call before either of them had time to say a word, then dropped my phone on my lap. “My love?”

Boden took a huge breath. “Yeah. Yes. I’m alright.”

I held my hands out toward him and watched as he slowly made his way over, his arms slightly out for balance as the sides of his feet dragged over the floor. He didn’t fall until he reached the bed, his arms bracing his body on the mattress.

It took him a moment to pull his legs up, and then he crawled up toward me and collapsed on his side, curled into mine. “Hello.”

He scoffed. “Hello? Really?”

“They’re going to ring me back in a moment. They’re terrible about boundaries sometimes, but I won’t answer if it’s not something you’re ready for.”

He took a deep breath. “Will they like me? I mean, did they love Reid a lot?”

“Yes, and yes. They also want me to be happy, and no amount of loving or missing Reid will bring him back.” I brushed a collection of bedhead curls off his forehead. “They’ll like you because I do. Then, later, when they have a chance to know you, they’ll love you because you’re worth loving.”

He bit his lip, then said, “Will you turn the captions on so I don’t miss anything?”

“You never have to ask twice.” I opened my settings and turned on the captions, then looked at him one more time. “Just say the word.”

“Call them.”

It rang only once before my dad’s face filled the screen. His brows were high, his eyes squinting behind his glasses.

“Pull the phone back, Papa. We can see everything you have up your nose.”

“Oh.” He sat back, and then my mom squeezed her face into the frame.

Boden made a soft noise. “You look just like her.”

“He speaks French!” my dad said, looking like Christmas had come early. “You speak French? Did Hugo teach you? Your accent is very good.”

Boden’s ears reddened. “Ah. I spoke French from birth. I was born in Quebec.”

Both of my parents looked delighted. “So no awkward English at the dinner table,” my mom said. “It was never my best subject at school, you know.”

Boden laughed. “Yeah. My mom doesn’t speak more than a few phrases in French, and she hated when I’d come home after a long summer in Montreal and hardly spoke a word of English to her.”

My parents beamed at me. “So, you’re the man my son is in love with,” my dad said.

“Thank you very much for that, Papa. I didn’t need this morning to be more awkward.” I held Boden a little closer to me. “It’s new.”

“Then we won’t ask about rings,” my dad said.

I was going to murder them both. Living as an orphan would suck, but needs must.

Boden, however, just laughed. “Ask me in a year.”

“I will,” my dad said with a grin.

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