Page 78 of Loving Violet
Violet and I spent the day under the shade of a tree, watching the river flow and the birds fly by us. It was very peaceful, and seeing Violet lying down in a sexy one-piece bathing suit was the highlight of my day.
Now, after arriving back home, we all get ready to go have dinner with my parents. I’m on the couch watching Adrian play one of his video games waiting for Violet to finish getting ready. She’s been nervous about meeting my parents. I told her that they are going to love her but she still worries.
Violet comes into the living room a minute later dressed in dark jeans and a pretty, flowy, pink blouse. Her hair is down and straight today—she looks gorgeous.
“Does this look okay?” Violet asks, a hint of nervousness in her voice.
“Absolutely. You look beautiful,” I assure her.
“I want to make a good impression.”
I stand and walk toward her, standing close enough that I can whisper in her ear. “You look gorgeous, but you know I like it better when you’re not wearing anything at all.”
Violet laughs and playfully slaps me on the chest.
“I know. Let me put my shoes on so we can leave.”
As she walks away, I can’t help but smile.
We pile into the car, excitement and nerves swirling in the air like a tornado. I glance over at Violet, and she’s fiddling with the buttons on her blouse, her fingers moving so fast they could break a record.
“You’re going to be great,” I say, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “Relax.”
She lets out a small laugh, the kind that says she’s not even close to relaxing. “I hope so. What if I say something weird? Or worse, what if I spill something on their table?”
Adrian leans forward from the backseat, already the voice of reason. “Mom, don’t worry. Austin’s parents will love you. You’re, like, the nicest person ever.”
I grin at her. “See? Even Adrian knows it, and he doesn’t lie unless it’s about who ate the last cookie.”
“Hey!” Adrian protests, though he’s smiling.
To lighten the mood, I turn on the music and hand Violet my phone. “Pick something. DJ rights are yours.”
She hesitates before scrolling through the playlist, finally settling on something soft and easygoing. It works. Her shoulders relax, and she stops attacking her blouse like it owes her money.
When we pull up to my parents’ house, the farmhouse stands there like an old friend, its wide front porch welcoming us with its rocking chairs and colorful flower baskets swaying gently in the breeze. The paint might be a little chipped, but it’s part of the charm, like laugh lines on a face that’s seen a lot of joy.
Violet inhales sharply, and I can tell she’s bracing herself. I reach over and squeeze her hand again. “It’s going to be fine. You’re amazing. Ready?”
She nods, her nervous smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Before we can take more than a step, Adrian bolts from the car, yelling, “I’m gonna beat you to the door!”
I laugh as Violet watches him go, a mix of amusement and pure mom-mode worry in her eyes. “He’s fine,” I assure her. “Besides, it’s a good distraction. They’ll be too busy loving him to grill you.”
Her lips twitch into a real smile this time, and we walk up the path together. As we get closer to the porch, Violet tightens her grip on my hand. I squeeze back, silently letting her know she’s not alone.
It’s just my parents, I remind myself—but I can’t shake the feeling that this moment is bigger than that. It’s us, together, taking a step toward something that feels as timeless and steady as the house in front of us.
The door swings open, and my mom’s face lights up as she beams at us. "Welcome! Come in, come in!" she says, ushering us inside. She’s dressed comfortably in a loose white shirt and khaki shorts, her dark hair now streaked with white. Her eyes—just like mine—shine warmly.
The moment we step inside, the familiar smell of a home-cooked meal greets us. The aroma of freshly baked bread and roasted meat fills the air, and my stomach growls at the smell.
“Wow, your home is beautiful,” Violet says, her eyes wide as she takes in the surroundings.
“Thank you, dear,” my mom replies, beaming. “We’ve put a lot of love into this place over the years. I’m so glad you’re here.”
My dad steps into the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Ah, there’s my boy!” he says, giving me a hearty pat on the back. “And you must be Violet and Adrian. Welcome! Make yourselves at home.”
