Page 11 of Meet Me in the Valley
I quicken my steps toward them, careful not to trip in these heels. They’re not very tall, but the slim-fitting olive green dress tapers in to restrict my movement just below the knees. It’s classy and sexy, and hugs my curves in all the right places.
“Dad! Mama!” I fly into Dad’s arms first as I bury my nose into the lapels of his jacket. It smells faint of cigars and cardamom, a scent that ties me to my dad no matter where I am. I melt in his arms, squeezing so tight he feigns suffocation, and it makes me giggle.
“Hi, Daddy.”
“Looking beautiful, sweetheart.”
I’m launching myself into my mother’s embrace next, squeezing her neck since she’s a lot shorter than me. I mirror my dad’s stature with his Irish and Scottish roots. But my olive skin tone, jet-black hair, and eye shape all come from my mama. I got her grit and attitude too, which made forveryfun times growing up while we went head to head.
That’s daughters for ya.
But I’ve been told I’m a perfect combination of the two of them.
“Sayang,” my mom coos in her native tongue. She calls me many pet names in Indonesian, butsayangis the most common—and my favorite. The way she says it is like a soft lullaby. I can’t contain my smile as I squeeze her tighter.
“Mama, you look so pretty. I missed you both so much.” I gather them both in my arms, initiating a much-needed group hug. It’s not until I’m in my parents’ arms that I realize how homesick I am. Texas has been my home for a long time, but nothing compares to this. Here in their embrace is the safest place I can be.
“Give me one second,” I tell my parents. “Let me be a good hostess and say hi to everyone.”
Mom and Dad smile as I pull away from their embrace, greeting the guests who walk in.
I give cheek kisses to Donovan’s parents, Grace and Caleb, and a giant bear hug to Audrey’s grandfather, Pop. Logan’s dad, Chief Harper, compliments my outfit as he spins me in a circle, threatening to arrest anyone who gets too handsy. He very much holds the effortless charm like his son has in spades.
Over by the bar, I see Wyatt searching for me, waving me over while holding a shot glass in the air.
I trot over to my parents, my smile wide and bright.
“Mom, Dad! Let’s go do a celebratory shot together before our guests of honor get here.” I don’t give them a second to respond before I clasp both of their hands in mine and drag them through the growing crowd to the bar.
A quick glance at my phone shows Logan should be getting here any minute now. “Jax, pour two here for my parents and three for Auds, D, and Logan once they get here, please!” I shout over the music that’s now flowing through the speakers, picking up the energy of the party. It’s not your most traditional engagement party—being in a bar and everything—but since they put me in charge, it’s going to be a helluva time.
Jackson pours all the shots, lining them up neatly on the bar. I grab two and hand one to my dad and the other to my mom. Before my mom can grab the glass, my dad is thrusting his hand out to block her, gripping my wrist.
“None for your mother. Not tonight.” His tone is stern, reminding me of the times I’d get in trouble as a kid for staying up too late on the internet.
“I can have one shot with my daughter, Daniel.” Suddenly, I’m a young child watching her parents in a cryptic back and forth. This sort of thing would have flown over the head of seven-year-old Tia, but almost thirty-year-old me catches the strange exchange as my eyes shift between them.
The energy changes, a sudden awkwardness clouding around us. My dad lets go of my wrist, his eyebrows pinching. “Not tonight, honey,” my dad murmurs, his eyes softening as he looks at my mother.
Time hangs between the three of us, almost like everyone is holding their breath. Since I’ve been home this summer, I haven’t really seen my parents interact this way. But then again, most of my time was split between my friends and working remotely. I break through the thick veil of tension.
“Dad, it’s okay. Mama can have one shot with me.”
Just as I go to grab my shot from the bar top, my dad snatches the glass meant for Mom from my hand, tossing it back like a champ. Not a single shudder in his body as the tequila makes its way down his throat. My mom and I share the same gaping look, and he lifts his lips in a smirk.
“Take your shot, Tia,” my dad grumbles, whisking my mom away toward the rest of the now growing party. I see my mom teasingly hit my dad on his chest as they find their friends to mingle with.
“Hey, come on! Are we doing this or what?” Isabel sing-songs, dragging my attention away from my parents. Shaking my head, I make a mental note to unpack whatever that was with them later.
Isabel hands me my shot as we naturally form a little circle with the boys. Raising our glasses in the middle, I make a brief toast. “To making sure we get Audrey and Donovan absolutely trashed tonight!” I’m only half-kidding, but that doesn’t stop the hollers of agreement from the rest of the group. If it’s one thing about us, we don’t back down from a party.
Throwing back my shot like I’m back at Logan’s fraternity house parties, the sting only gets worse the older I get. I grimace the second the alcohol slithers down my throat, desperately searching the bar for a lime to suck on.
I see the little plastic container filled with freshly cut limes, but Jackson beats me to it first, lifting the container over his head and holding it hostage.
“You ass! Give me one!”
“Don’t be a pussy! You already took the shot, just ride it out,” Jackson chuckles, with Kerry joining in.
