Page 71 of Hate the One You're With
“Food is just the beginning,” I tease, taking a bite of my own. “I’ve got a whole arsenal of tricks up my sleeve. Next, I’m thinking romantic walks, maybe some flowers—something subtle like a thousand roses or so.”
She arches an eyebrow. “A thousand, huh? That sounds like overkill.”
“Maybe, but I’m desperate here. I’m going all out.”
She shakes her head, smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I prefer determined,” I counter, leaning back in my chair, feeling more relaxed than I have in weeks. “Seriously though, I’m just happy you’re enjoying dinner. I wanted to do something special for you.”
“Well, mission accomplished,” she says, taking another bite. “You’ve definitely set the bar high. I’m impressed.”
“I aim to please,” I say with a smirk, then add, “But don’t get too used to it. I’ve only got a few recipes in my repertoire. After this, it’s all eggs and toast.”
“Oh, I’ll hold you to that,” she teases back. “But if this is what you’re capable of, I think we’ll be just fine.”
We continue eating, the banter flowing easily between us, and for a moment, it’s as if nothing has changed—as if we’re just two people enjoying a meal together, laughing, talking, and letting the world outside fall away.
Chapter Forty-Five
Caleb
Things I planto avoid in the near future: going to yoga with Emmersyn. Watching her bend and stretch in those tight leggings? Absolute torture. I spent the entire class trying to keep my composure. Never again.
Then there’s her book club. Her friends are loud, chatty, and overly invested in fictional characters. How my introverted, calm girl enjoys beingsurrounded by that chaos is beyond me. It’s like she needs a dose of noise to balance out her quiet.
And let’s not forget the time I let her pick out my clothes for date night. Neon pink? I looked like a walking highlighter. Lesson learned. We went to an escape room with a ’90s theme—because, of course, she thinks it’s “totally rad.” The best/worst part is that the place had black lights, and I was glowing in the dark like some fucking rave reject.
This weekend, we’re doing something different—something that could be positive, or it could blow up in our faces. We’re visiting my parents in North Carolina. As a bonus, Em gets to see her friend, who I affectionately refer to as my annoying sister.
“What if they don’t like me?” she asks, her voice tinged with nerves.
“They don’t like you,” I remind her, keeping my tone light. “But they know now that the reasons they don’t like you were all made up by their middle child. I’m hoping this time they’ll make the effort to get to know you.”
“But what if even with that effort, they still hate me?” she presses, worry creasing her brow.
“First of all, no one could hate you. You’re lovely,” I say, squeezing her hand. “Second, if they can’t see how amazing you are, then it’ll be their loss. Instead of gaining a daughter, they’ll lose a son.
“You can’t be serious?—”
“Em, you’re my life. My everything,” I cut her off gently, my voice steady. “I hope they welcome you because I want to share everything with you—my family, my past, my future. You always come first. Unless we have children, then?—”
“Children?” Her eyes widen in surprise.
“You don’t want any?” I ask, suddenly feeling like I’ve stepped into uncharted territory.
“We’ve never talked about it,” she admits, biting her lip.
“Well, what do you want?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“Probably more than one,” she says after a pause. “I don’t want them to grow up alone like I did.”
I kiss her forehead, pulling her into a hug. “We’ll plan our future together later. For now, let’s get through this weekend, okay? Meet the in-laws in person.”
She nods, and I can feel her relax a little against me. We reach my parents’ house, and I knock on the door. It swings open to reveal my mom, standing there with a polite smile, though there’s a hint of reservation in her eyes.
“Mom this is Emmersyn,” I say, keeping my voice warm and steady. “Em, these are my parents.”
My mom steps forward first, extending her hand with a polite but guarded smile. “Emmersyn, it’s nice to put a face to a name, finally,” she says, her tone courteous but still holding a touch of formality.
