Page 98 of Faking It For Real

"No, Gabriel. I'm disappointed. We raised Mia to value honesty above all else."

My eyes burned with unshed tears. "I know, Mama. That's why we're telling you now. Because what we have is real, and we didn't want to build it on deception."

"The beginning was...unconventional," Ethan added. "But my feelings for Mia are the most honest thing in my life. I love your daughter. That part was never fake."

My mother's expression remained stern, but my father suddenly chuckled, surprising all of us.

"Elena, do you remember your Aunt Carmen and Uncle Mateo?" he asked, turning to my mother.

Her brow furrowed. "What about them?"

"They celebrated their thirtieth anniversary last year, yes?" When my mother nodded, my father continued, "And how did they meet?"

A reluctant smile tugged at my mother's lips. "That's different, Gabriel."

"Is it? They married for his immigration papers—a completely practical arrangement. And now they're one of the strongest couples in the family." He leaned toward the camera. "Mia, Ethan, the beginning of a relationship is just that—a beginning. It's what you build that matters."

"But the dishonesty—" my mother began.

"Which they are correcting now, by their own choice," my father pointed out. "That shows character, Elena."

My mother sighed, her expression softening slightly. "Your father has a point," she admitted. "And I suppose our own courtship wasn't exactly romantic at first, was it, Gabriel?"

My father laughed outright. "Trips to the grocery store where you barely spoke to me, arguments over the best brand of canned beans—very passionate, very romantic."

"Wait, what?" I looked between my parents in confusion. "I thought you two fell in love at first sight at that community dance."

My parents exchanged amused glances. "That's the story we tell at parties," my mother explained with a small smile. "The reality was that your father was your uncle's annoying friend who needed a Spanish tutor for his community college class."

"I was not annoying," my father protested. "I was charming."

"You were persistent," my mother corrected, but her eyes were warm with affection. She turned back to us. "The truth is, mija, love rarely follows the path we expect. Sometimes the most genuine connections grow from strange beginnings."

Relief washed through me. "So you're not angry?"

"Disappointed that you didn't trust us sooner, perhaps," my mother admitted. "But not angry. Never angry with you, Mia." Her expression softened as she looked at Ethan. "And not with you either, Ethan. The way you look at my daughter—that cannot be faked."

"No, ma'am," Ethan agreed quietly. "It really can't."

After we ended the call, I collapsed against Ethan's chest, emotionally drained. "That went better than I expected."

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "Your parents are pretty amazing. They really get it."

"Get what?"

"That sometimes the most real things start in unexpected ways." His arms tightened around me. "Now we just have to survive telling my family."

I groaned dramatically. "Can we please wait until tomorrow for that particular horror show?"

"Absolutely," Ethan agreed. "I'd say we've earned a break. Pizza and bad movies?"

"You really do love me," I laughed, reaching for my phone to place our usual order.

Telling Ethan's family proved surprisingly less dramatic than we'd anticipated. We drove to his parents' suburban home the following weekend, rehearsing our explanation during the entire journey. But the moment we nervously shared our story in their pristine living room, Emma—Ethan's younger sister—burst out laughing.

"I KNEW something was weird!" she exclaimed, pointing triumphantly at Ethan. "You've spent your entire life avoiding anything resembling commitment, and suddenly you're bringing a girl home for Christmas? It was totally suspicious."

"It wasn't suspicious," Ethan protested. "It was... unexpected."

---