Page 80 of Love Me

That’s what he gets for kissing me like that with no intention of finishing what he started right away.

I do a quick fix of my lipstick in the mirror next to my door before we head out.

My parents live only a few blocks away from Diego’s parents’ home. We grew up on the outskirts of Williamsport. Returning here with him feels familiar and new at the same time.

“Don’t look so nervous, baby,” he tells me, taking my hand in his and kissing my knuckles. “We’ve done this hundreds of times.”

“Not like this,” I remind him.

“We’re still the same people,” he replies, looking over at me.

I stare into his eyes for a long while, letting his sturdy gaze reassure me.

I love you.

We’ve said those three words to one another many times over the years. I’ve meant it every single time, but this one is different. I can’t say it out loud. Not yet. Even to him. There’s still so much uncertainty.

Not to mention the declaration he made earlier today to my parents.

“They’re probably waiting for us.”

As soon as he says that, my parents’ front door opens. My father’s standing there, arms folded across his broad chest. I remember that pose every time I brought a boy home while in high school.

I stopped bringing any boys home after I went away to college. Though I defended the losers I dated to Diego, deep down I knew they weren’t worth my time. Nor were they worth being introduced to my parents.

The last guy I introduced to them was my ex-fiancé.

“Hey, you two,” my mother says, brushing past my father before he can even greet us.

I suspect she does it to stop him from being all overprotective.

“Hey, Mom,” I murmur as she pulls me in for a hug like she hasn’t seen me in weeks instead of hours. I somehow get the sense that she hugs me like this because she’s afraid she won’t see me again for a long time.

“Come in,” my mother says, pulling my father, who’s eyeing Diego up and down, inside of the house.

“Diego!” my brother Damian shouts as he barrels down the steps.

“You don’t see me standing here.”

My kid brother gives me a half-smile. He reminds me so much of my dad when he smiles like that. He’s practically our father’s carbon copy.

“Sorry, sis.” He wraps his long arms around me.

I sniff him. “Are you wearing cologne?”

“He put too much of it on,” Avery says as she rounds the corner, her face wrinkled in disgust. “He smelled up the whole upstairs bathroom.”

“Shut up,” Damian barks at her.

“What did I tell you about talking to your sister like that?” my father asks, silencing the entire argument with one question.

Damian mumbles an apology to Avery before taking Diego by the arm.

“It’s been a minute since we played a game together. Let’s go a few rounds before dinner,” he tells Diego, pulling him toward the TV room which is down the hallway.

“Yeah, why don’t we have some guy time?” my dad says, slapping a palm to Diego’s shoulder.

I don’t miss the way he tightly grips it either.

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