Stumbling Into Love

  “Fine. I’ll leave it alone.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Whatever.” I pout, and he smiles, then kisses it away.

  “Are you excited about tomorrow?” he asks.

  My stomach instantly fills with nervous butterflies. His mom and stepdad are flying in. Christmas is in three days, and since I only have one client in the morning, I stupidly agreed to go with him to the airport to pick them up.

  “So totally excited!” I lie.

  “Liar.” He kisses my forehead. “It will be fine. My mom will love you.”

  “If you say so.” I kiss his scruffy jaw, then smile when my stomach growls. “Are you going to keep kissing me, or are you going to cook me dinner?”

  “I don’t know. I like kissing you.”

  “Me too.” I kiss him again and again.

  About ten minutes later, when my stomach growls loudly, he finally pulls away.

  “So what are you making anyway?” I ask him as he grabs a pepper and starts to chop it up.

  “Tacos.”

  “Yum.” My mouth waters, and he smiles at me. “Did your mom teach you how to cook?” I ask, picking my drink back up.

  “She did. After the summer of hot dogs, she taught me. She figured that I would need to know how to cook for myself so I could do it while I was at my dad’s house. The first thing she taught me how to make was fajitas. The second was lasagna.”

  “My mom never taught us how to cook. I think she secretly liked keeping us dependent on her for food.”

  “I’ll teach you.” He smiles at me, and my heart does some weird double beat.

  “You will?”

  “Of course. I’m not the best cook, but I know the basics. I can show you those.”

  “Well, I know nothing, so you are already a million times better than me.” I laugh and take another sip of soda. I love this. I love how easy things are between us. Spending time with him is like hanging out with my best friend. That’s something I’ve never had with anyone before him.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asks as he pulls a pack of tortillas out of the fridge.

  “How easy this whole relationship business is with you,” I admit.

  I watch as his face gets soft and his eyes get warm.

  “Have I told you today how much I like you?” he asks.

  My heart skips and my stomach tingles.

  “Not today.”

  “I like you a lot.”

  “Good. Because I like you a lot, too.”

  I reach forward, grab hold of his sweater, and pull him toward me. Kissing him once, I let him go and then hop down off the counter to help him finish up dinner.

  We eat while watching TV. Then we head to bed for the night, where we do a lot more than just sleep.

  “Calm down.”

  “You calm down!” I snap at Wesley as his hand tightens around mine. I wonder if he’s afraid I’m going to run away like a coward. I might. “I think this is too soon. Don’t you think it’s too soon for me to meet your mom? Isn’t that something couples do after they have been seeing each other for months and months? Sometimes years and ye—”

  His mouth crashes down on mine, and his tongue slips between my parted and stunned lips. Cupping my cheeks, he tips my head to the side to deepen the kiss. It makes me forget that we’re in the middle of a crowed airport where hundreds of people can see us.

  “It’s not too soon,” he growls, pulling his mouth away from mine.

  “Okay,” I breathe as my eyes flutter open. “I’m just a little bit scared.”

  “I know you are. I knew you were this morning, because you asked me a million times what you should wear, if you should wear makeup, and how you should do your hair.”

  “It wasn’t a million times,” I mumble.

  He grins. “Okay, a hundred thousand times.”

  “Whatever.” I blow a strand of hair out of my face.

  He runs his thumbs across my cheeks.

  “Worst-case scenario, my mom hates you. So I never talk to her again.”

  “Your mom wouldn’t be very happy with that plan, sugar pants,” a woman says from behind me.

  I close my eyes and groan internally, realizing the woman is his mom.

  I force myself to open my eyes, then turn with Wesley to face his mom and her husband. I don’t know what I was expecting his mom to look like, but the blonde standing across from me who looks a lot like Michelle Pfeiffer wasn’t it.

  Letting me go, Wesley greets them with a joint hug before stepping back and placing his arm around my waist.

  “Mom, I’d like you to meet Mackenzie. Mackenzie, my mom, Monica.”

  She smiles at him before looking at me.

  “It’s so nice to meet you.” I stick out my hand.

  Her eyes drop to my outstretched hand, and she rolls them before pulling me in for a tight hug, saying close to my ear, “We don’t shake hands.”

  “It’s nice to finally meet you,” I whisper as her arms tighten around me.

  “You too,” she whispers back, letting me go and taking her husband’s hand. “Mac?” She pauses, tipping her head to the side, studying me briefly. “Can I call you Mac?”

  “Of course. Everyone does—except Wesley,” I say.

  His arm wraps around my shoulder, and his lips touch the top of my head.

  “Mac, this is my husband, Peter.”

  “Nice to meet you, Peter.” I smile and try to give him a handshake, but once more I’m pulled in for an unexpected hug.

  “Nice to meet you, Mac.”

  “You too,” I agree as he lets me go.

  “How many bags did you bring, Mom?” Wesley asks as he tucks me right back under his arm.

  “Just two,” she says.

  Peter clears his throat.

  She glares at him. “Fine, three. But one of them doesn’t even count—all it has in it is my makeup and meds.”

  “What about my bag? You took up all its space by shoving your shoes in there.”

  “You can’t complain about that now. You should have complained when we were home and I was doing it. Now it’s too late.”

  “I’m not complaining, doll, just pointing out that you have a lot more stuff than you say you do.”

  “Well, I had to bring gifts for my son and his girlfriend.”

  My eyes widen. I haven’t gotten her anything for Christmas. Thank goodness I still have a shopping trip planned with Libby and Fawn for tomorrow. It’s something we’ve done every year since we were old enough to go out on our own.

  “Let’s go see if your bags have come out. While we wait, you can tell us about your flight,” Wesley suggests, leading us all toward baggage claim.

  He keeps a tight hold on my hand—he’s probably more afraid now than ever that I’m going to take off on him. To be honest, for once I’m not thinking about it. All I can think about is the fact that Wesley has made it a point to remind me over and over that I mean something to him and that he has chosen me and will keep on choosing me.

  “Are you doing okay?” he asks against my ear.

  I tip my head back to look at him and smile. “Totally okay.” I squeeze his fingers, then lean back against him.

  I listen as his mom tells us about their trip, and I do it smiling, too.

  Chapter 8

  THE GIFT THAT KEEPS ON GIVING

  MAC

  I knock on Miss Ina’s door. I wait for her to answer for a minute, then knock again and press my ear to the door to see if I can hear her coming. I haven’t seen her in a few days, and I’m honestly a little worried. “Miss Ina?” I knock again.

  “Child, if you don’t stop knocking on my door and give me a few minutes to walk across the room to answer it, I’m going to beat you with my walker when I open it up,” she grouches.

  I let out a relieved breath and smile.

  “Hurry up!” I shout.

  I hear her huff on the other side, which makes my smile even bigger.

  “Why did I have to c
ome along for this?” Libby asks.

  She’s next to me, standing with her arms crossed over her chest.

  “Because I thought it would be nice if you were here when we invite her over to Christmas dinner. She’s alone.”

  “She really did put a spell on you, didn’t she?”

  “I told you. I like her.” I shrug, then knock again just to annoy Ina.

  “What’s so important that you need to wake me from my afternoon nap?” Miss Ina answers as she finally opens the door.

  I grin, then give her a hug that she tries to pull away from. I don’t let her get far.

  “You’re coming with us on Christmas.”

  “No, I’m not.” She shakes her head and attempts to shut the door, but I block it with my foot before she can.

  “Yes, you are. I even ordered us a car service for the morning of so we don’t have to take the train out to Long Island.”

  “Child, I’m staying home on Christmas. Now go on.” She tries to shoo us away.

  Before, that might have worked, but now I know that she’s a big softie. I’m not going anywhere.

  “Miss Ina, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but the day you made me tea and let me cry on your shoulder and then sleep on your couch is the day you and I became friends. I don’t let my friends sit alone at home on Christmas, so Christmas morning you will be coming with me and Libby to our parents’ house—even if I have to break into your apartment and drag you with me.”

  I smile, and she glares at me. Then she glares at Libby.

  “I should call the law on you two for harassing me.”

  “Do it.” I raise a brow, and she huffs again.

  Libby tenses at my side, not knowing that the woman is all bark and no bite.

  “Fine,” Miss Ina says, finally giving in. “I’ll come—but only because I want to.” She shakes her head as she starts to shut the door again, but I move my foot back in to block it again.

  “Promise me.” I hold out my pinkie toward her.

  “I should have left you to cry in the hall,” she says.

  I don’t move anything more than one eyebrow, which I raise.

  “Fine. I promise.” She slaps my hand, then slams the door.

  “She’s still scary,” Libby says, taking my arm and pulling me along with her.

  “I heard that! I’m glad you think so, seeing how your sister’s forgotten!” Miss Ina shouts through the door.

  I laugh along with Libby as we head up the stairs to our apartment.

  After entering, I kick off my shoes and sigh. “It feels like I haven’t been here in forever,” I say as we plop down on the couch next to each other. I haven’t been home for weeks. I’ve been spending all my time with Wesley, but with his mom and stepdad sleeping in his bed while he’s on the couch, I won’t be staying with him again until after Christmas.

  “You haven’t, and it’s a lot quieter without you around,” Libby says.

  I look at her and instantly feel guilty for not having been home much.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Honestly, it’s been nice.” She smirks. “Do you think that you and Wesley are going to move in together sometime soon?” she asks, sounding way too hopeful. I pick up one of the pillows and hit her with it, making her laugh. “Seriously, though. What are you guys planning on doing?”

  “I don’t know. It will probably be a while before we take that step. Our relationship has been moving too quickly from the beginning, and I think that we need some time to get to know each other before we make any big commitments.”

  “That’s probably smart, but then again, you have been with him every day and every night. It doesn’t make sense to live here, paying rent, while spending all your time there with him.”

  “True.” I hug the pillow to my chest. “But if I was to move out, do you think you could afford this place on your own?”

  “Yes, Mom.” She rolls her eyes. “Plus, I’ve been tucking away the extra money I’ve been making at Tony’s the last couple weeks.”

  “How’s it been, working there?”

  Ever since the day I told Libby about Tony being in the hospital and Antonio needing help at the pizza parlor, she’s been going in a few days a week to help out with waiting tables and answering the phone. Antonio said they didn’t need help, but she went above his head and talked to his mom about it. I’ve also gone in a couple of times to pitch in, but Libby seems to have it under control. Mrs. Moretti adores her, which I think annoys the crap out of Antonio.

  “It’s fine.” She shrugs, then fiddles with her hair.

  That’s something she’s done since she was little—whenever she’s not telling the truth.

  “Just fine?” I narrow my eyes at her, and she shifts in her seat.

  “Just fine.”

  “Is Antonio being nice to you?” I ask.

  She rolls her eyes at the mention of his name.

  “He’s being himself.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means he’s constantly complaining about my shoes, my clothes, and the fact that I wear makeup.”

  “Don’t let him get to you.”

  “I won’t,” she says, but I can tell by the set of her shoulders that his opinion bugs her.

  “I’m sorry that he’s being a jerk.”

  “Don’t be. His opinion of me doesn’t matter.” She waves my comment away. “I like his mom, and his dad is very sweet. So he can suck it.” She stands up. “I’m going to take a bath then watch a movie. Do you want to watch a scary one with me?”

  “I’ll make popcorn,” I answer.

  Watching her walk off toward our bedroom, I can’t help but wonder what the hell is going on between her and Antonio. Her reaction was not normal. They have always bickered, but now I wonder if there isn’t a little bit of attraction between them.

  My cell phone starts to ring, and I lean forward and grab it off the coffee table.

  It’s Wesley. “Hey,” I answer when I put it to my ear.

  “Hey.”

  “Did you get your mom and Peter settled?” I ask as I relax back against the couch. Tucking my feet under me, I pull a blanket over my lap and get comfortable.

  “Yeah. Now I’m heading to the station to meet Levi. We have to work for a few hours.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, just work,” he answers.

  I know by his tone that he’s not going to say anything more about it.

  “I miss you,” I say.

  There’s silence on the other end.

  “Do you?” he asks after a moment.

  I can hear the smile in his voice, which just makes me miss him even more.

  “Yeah.”

  “I miss you, too.”

  “That makes me feel a little less crazy,” I admit, smiling, then smiling wider when he laughs.

  “My mom is crazy about you.”

  “She is?”

  “She is. I knew she would be. She said that she loves you for me. That she couldn’t have chosen better herself.”

  “That’s good, right?” I ask, feeling hopeful.

  “That’s better than good. She’s looking forward to meeting your family on Christmas.”

  “Oh.” I deflate, slumping back into the couch. “Let’s not get our hopes up, then. You and I both know that my family is crazy. She might change her mind about me after meeting them.”

  “It will be fine.” He laughs, then I hear a car door slam.

  “Did you just get to work?”

  “Yeah, baby. I’ll call you in the morning.”

  “Be safe.”

  “Always. Night, gorgeous.”

  “Night.” I hang up, then press the cell phone to my smiling lips.

  “What are you so happy about?” Libby asks, coming out of the bedroom wearing a robe. Her hair is tied up in a bun on top of her head.

  “Wesley’s mom likes me.”

  “Are you really surprised by that?” she asks, going
to the kitchen.

  She grabs a wineglass, then opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of white wine, filling the glass to the brim.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t know what to expect, honestly.”

  “Everyone likes you. Even Miss Ina, who I’m pretty sure hates everyone. So I’m not surprised.” She takes a sip of wine, then holds the bottle up between us. “You want a glass?”

  “No, thanks.” I shake my head and she nods, putting the bottle back in the fridge. “Did you already take a bath?”

  “Not yet. I’m filling the tub now. I just wanted a glass of wine.”

  “Cool.” I yawn, covering my mouth. Then I reach forward for the remote. “If I’m asleep when you get out, just wake me up.”

  “Will do.” She heads into the bedroom.

  I turn on the TV and lie down, then promptly fall asleep.

  When Libby does come out and wake me up, I’m only able to make it halfway through the movie The Ring. I can’t keep my eyes open, so I give in and go to bed.

  “Good morning!” Fawn says in a singsong voice as she walks into the apartment without knocking, making me jump out of my skin.

  “Sheesh! You scared the crap out of me.” I hold my hand over my pounding heart.

  She smiles. “Sorry. I didn’t even think twice about using my key.” She shrugs, then holds up a bag. “I brought bagels.”

  My stomach, which has been silent all morning, growls. My mouth waters when I see the all-too-familiar name printed on the bag.

  “Please tell me that you brought smoked salmon cream cheese,” I beg, forgetting all about being scared moments ago.

  “I did!” She smiles and sets the bag on the counter.

  Pulling out the toaster, I plug it in, then dig out one of the “everything” bagels from the bag and cut it in half.

  “You’re here already,” Libby says groggily, coming out of the bedroom.

  Fawn looks at her when she comes over to kiss her cheek.

  “Levi was out all night. He came in early this morning, so when he came to bed I got up so I wouldn’t bother him,” Fawn explains.

  Libby makes her way past me and toward the coffeepot that finished brewing moments ago.

  “Levi’s already back to work?” Libby asks.

  “Last night was his first night back. The doctors told him that as long as he doesn’t push it, he should be okay.”