Justin’s quiet, his shoulder pressed against mine as we gently rock back and forth.
“That was okay, right? It wasn’t too overwhelming?” I ask.
“No. It was fine. I mean, your parents are great.” He runs his hand along the side of the swing. “I’m just wondering if you want to meet my mom.”
My stomach does a complicated twist.
“I’d love to meet her,” I say.
And so we have our second meet-the-parents event for the day.
Justin’s mom, Julie, is lovely, and she wraps me in a hug before I can even introduce myself properly.
Her apartment is small but filled with cheerful touches. She fusses over us with sweet tea and what appears to be every baked good within a ten-mile radius.
“I’m just so happy to meet someone who makes Justin smile like this,” she says, studying us with eyes that match her son’s exactly. “I spent so many years worried about him, you know?”
“Mom,” Justin protests, but there’s no real objection in his voice.
“But now, I think he’s going to be just fine,” she says.
I like her certainty.
“I hope we’re both going to be just fine,” I say, meeting Justin’s gaze. He smiles back at me.
“So, do you enjoy living in London, Andrew?” Julie asks, refilling our tea glasses with the kind of focused attention thatsuggests she’s trying not to seem too eager for details about our life together.
“Yes, I love it. It’s an incredible place,” I say. “Although the weather could do with a slight upgrade.”
“Hey, rain is just London’s way of making sure we appreciate the three days of summer we get each year,” Justin says with a smile.
“I’d love to visit sometime,” his mom says softly.
“You absolutely should,” I say.
“You’d love all the history,” Justin adds.
We chat more about some of our favorite tourist attractions, and Justin’s mom’s smile grows wider and wider as we share stories about our adventures around London before we move on to talking about her work.
When Julie goes to the bathroom, Justin shifts closer to me, linking our fingers.
“I think she might like you even more than she likes me,” he says.
“I think it’s because I laughed at all her craft store stories. Though, to be fair, that one about the glue-gun incident was genuinely hilarious,” I reply.
Justin laughs, and I can’t help leaning forward to kiss his smiling mouth.
Our kiss starts gentle but deepens quickly, his mouth warm and certain against mine. His fingers thread through my hair, and I melt against him like I always do.
When he draws back, his eyes are dark. “So, I’m thinking maybe we should get a bed & breakfast for tonight? Unless you want to experience the joy of another single bed?”
“A bed & breakfast is a good idea,” I agree breathlessly.
Justin grabs his phone and begins to scroll through it.
“There’s a decent place just off Main Street,” he says just as his mom returns to the room.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that, honey. Accommodations can be so expensive.”