Page 53 of Your Rule to Break

Zack can call me baby whenever he wants.

We pull into thedriveway, and Zack smiles as he says, “I love coming home.”

It’s a brick two-story house, with white paint and a wraparound porch—rocking chairs and all. The house sits back, farther from the road, purple flowers and greenery decorate the front.

A wave of nostalgia hits me. This reminds me of Michigan.

My childhood home now belongs to another family, with new kids, where they’ll make new memories. That house also had a porch. I find myself aching for a home I can’t go back to.

Zack reaches for my hand as he looks back. “You ready?”

I nod, and he swings open the door to his childhood home.

A wave of comfort hits me, the air slightly cooler than outside, with wafts of butter, parmesan cheese, and garlic. My mouth waters at whatever is being cooked for dinner. I don’t have any dietary restrictions, and if Zack is excited to eat here, it must be good.

“Mom, we’re here!” We take our shoes off at the door and then round the corner from the hallway into the kitchen.

Zack’s mom squeals as soon as she sees us. She’s wearing a classic white linen shirt with dark jeans as she stirs something over the stove.

“Zack! Emilie!” She comes over and hugs us both at the same time, her head in between ours.

“Let me see you,” she says, stepping back and literally taking me in from top to bottom. “Ah, it’s so good tofinallymeet you. Zack is always gabbing about you. Now I know why.”

It's hard not to blush.Zack is always gabbing about you.Was that before or after the fake dating turned into whatever the hell this is? A speck of nervousness flutters in my chest.

Her eyes are blue, like the water you dream of when you’re going on vacation. Her hair is almost the same color as Zack’s; a dark blonde, one that people try to re-create at the salon but can never get right. She’s stunning, just like I thought she’d be.

“I’m Mackenzie, you can call me Mack.” She rests her hand on my shoulder before walking back to the stove, moving whatever’s in the pan with a wooden spoon. “Grab a seat, dinner’s in probably twenty. I made a pitcher of Aperol Spritz for dinner. I remember Zack telling us how that’s your go-to, and I thought to myself, when’s the last time I had one of those?”

I'm going to melt from the sweetness.

“Zack, check the pantry. Got something for you.”

He yells, “Hell yeah!” from what I'm guessing is the pantry and walks out with a massive box of Pop Rocks.

“You’re the best.” He kisses his mom on the cheek before bringing his ginormous box of candy to the bar, setting it down.

I can’t help but raise an eyebrow. “I feel like I'm missing something.”

“We used to bribe Zack with Pop Rocks to go to football practice when he first started playing. If I’m remembering correctly, it might’ve been flag football. Then it just turned into something we kept doing—”

“We should’ve invested in that company. Bought some stock or something.” A man walks in from the outside. He must be Zack’s dad.

“I’m Chris. It's great to finally meet you.” He puts his hand out for a hand shake, which I take him up on. “Somehow, we’re still buying our NFL-playing son his favorite candy in bulk—at least, whenever we see it.”

“Thank you for having me for dinner.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem. We’ve been excited ever since it’s been on the calendar,” he says before going to stand behind his wife, wrapping his arms around her from behind. He kisses her cheek, and it’s like I can hear her smiling from here.

I’m a firm believer that my parents don’t love each other. They may have at one point, but it feels very past tense for as long as I can remember. They respected each other enough to maintain a marriage, but there was never kissing, affection, or walking in on them doing something intimate—thank god. Seeing Zack’s parents like this has my cheeks aching from smiling. It’s lovely.

For a second, I think about what it’d be like growing up in a home like this.

“Your favorite daughter is here!” someone calls as the door shuts. She walks into the kitchen and claps her hands when she sees me. “You came! You’re real!” she squeals before hugging me.

“This is Riley. My sister. Myonlysister,” Zack laughs, while popping an olive in his mouth from the carefully constructed charcuterie board sitting on the bar.

Riley is gorgeous. This family has the good genetics or something because wow— even Chris is what you’d call a daddy. The man is a silver fox and ridiculously hot. I wonder if he was blonde like Zack when he was younger?

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