Page 90 of Unexpected Boyfriends

Camellia bushes still grow in the corner of the yard, leaves dark green and glossy but it's too late in the season and only a few battered blooms hide amongst the foliage. We buried my cat under there when he died of old age. I was ten at the time.

The flower bed along the front of the house is full of pansies and violas and other winter flowers. I planted my first daffodil bulbs there when I was twelve.

And there’s the spot where I accidentally rode my bicycle off the porch, the soft earth and crushed flowers softening my fall.

A sheen of tears fills my eyes, and I swipe it away. Axel rests his warm hand over mine, comforting and reassuring. He doesn’t say anything, just lets me feel the emotions churning inside me, while showing me I’m not alone.

Taking a deep breath, I turn to him.

“Okay, let’s do this.”

We get out and walk up the driveway together. Axel has brought wine and chocolate, just like he did to my grandparents’ house.

It’s only when we’re standing on the porch about to knock on the front door, that I realize we haven’t discussed something important.

“How do you want me to introduce you?” I ask Axel.

Axel shrugs.

“However you’re most comfortable,” he replies. “I don’t think it’s going to make much difference. They’ll probably guess in any case.”

“Okay. Here goes,” I mutter under my breath, steeling myself.

I knock.

The door opens.

It’s my mother, thank god, and she silently takes me in her arms and hugs me.

“Welcome home,” she says, brushing the hair off my face. I think I see a trace of moisture in her eyes, but then she turns to Axel and her eyes sharpen and narrow. There's nothing friendly in that look.

I pull away, and step back beside him.

“This is Axel,” I say. “My boyfriend.”

Lines appear around her mouth as her jaw clenches, and she doesn’t offer her hand.

"Hello, Mrs. McMillan," Axel behaves as if he hasn't noticed, but he has - his polite smile doesn't reach his eyes.

She barely acknowledges his greeting and I almost hear the resigned sigh that Axeldoesn’tgive, as he offers her the wine and chocolates he’s brought. For an awful minute I’m afraid she’s going to dash them from his hands, but civility wins out and she accepts them from him with a clippedthank youand motions for us to come in.

Axel and I exchange glances. This is not going well so far, but what did we expect?

In the lounge, my father is reading his newspaper. He scarcely looks up long enough to grunt, “Well, here you are finally.” He doesn’t get up.

“Dad, this is Axel,” I announce, pointedly.

He looks over the paper at us. “So I see,” he says before returning his attention to the paper.

I open my mouth to tell him to stop being rude, but I feel Axel's elbow jab me in the ribs and he shakes his head.

Don’t worry about it,he mouths.

We’ve only been here a few minutes and already it’s a disaster. How are we going to survive a whole day of this?

Fortunately, my mother comes into the room just then to announce lunch is ready and we head for the dining room in awkward silence. Axel’s hand brushes mine as we enter the room. I’m grateful for the brief touch. It reminds me I’m not on my own.

My mother asks us to sit, and hands my father the wine Axel brought.

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