“Ready?”she asks right after I press the button to shut off the engine.
“As ready as I’m going to be.”
“It’ll be fine.I already told them a little about you, so—”
“Wait, what?”
“Judah, it’s fine,” she says, reaching for the door handle.
“No, wait—I need to make sure we’re on the same page.What have you told them?”
She smiles, her cheeks dimpling when she responds, “I told them I love you.”
“You did?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Did you tell them about—you know…?”
“I didn’t mention anything about your health, Judah, because that’s nobody’s business but ours.”
“Okay.”
She leans over, plants a kiss on my lips, then wipes off the gloss with her thumb and says, “Okay, let’s go.”
We get out, head to the door.Her mother opens it quickly and says, “There’s my baby.How are you, darling?”
“I’m good, Ma.How are you?”
“I’m doing just fine, baby.And who do we have here?”
I smile and say, “Good evening, Mrs.Pemberton.I’m Judah Westinghouse.”
“Hi there,” she says, bypassing my extended hand for a hug instead.
“How you doing, babygirl?”Her father says emerging from the kitchen with a dish towel.
Autumn hugs him and then he turns his attention to me and says, “Judah Westinghouse—the man my daughterloves.Bring it in, son.”
Son.
I’m beyond confused.I didn’t think they’d be this receptive of me, but so far, we’re off to a good start.
“Come on back and have a seat,” her mother says.
We walk into the dining room where her parents have everything laid out – food, place settings – it all looks fancy.And the dining room is decorated with black and teal accents.They have a lovely home.I can feel the love here.
We fill our plates and start eating.Her father says, “So, my daughter has told us a little about you, Judah.Why don’t you fill in the blanks and tell us a little about yourself?”
“Well, um, I live in Arden.I have a degree in economics—just landed a good job here in Asheville, actually.”
“Are your people from Arden?”
“They are.”
“That’s interesting.I went to school with some Westinghouses.What’s your father’s name?”
“My father’s name is Presly.”