Page 114 of Love Undiscovered
Chapter 30
Chance
“Don’t be nervous,” I tell her as we walk up the front stoop. “They are going to love you.”
“I’m not nervous,” she says.
“Your palms are sweaty,” I say, feeling the dampness from hers on my palm.
“It's just because you’re holding my hand.”
I drop her hand from mine. “Is that better?”
“No!” she says grabbing my hand back. “Don’t you dare leave my side. Ohmigod. We need a safe word.”
We are standing on my mother’s front porch because I finally convinced Remi to come to Sunday dinner. I’m certain that my entire family is watching, and probably listening, through the window in the door. Remi wouldn’t know that, however. And I want her to feel safe and not embarrassed, so I let her continue.
“A safe word?”
“Yes. Like if I can’t take it anymore and I just have to get out of there, I can work a word into conversation and you can make up an excuse that your family will believe so we can leave without hurting their feelings.”
“You aren’t going to hurt their feelings. My family is so low key, you could tell them that you are sick of their company and leave and they’ll all still invite you back with open arms at the next get-together.”
“You aren’t helping. That’s not a concept that I can get my head around. What I can get my head around is that this is all going to go terribly, and I need a safe word for when I’m ready to leave since you refused to let me drive myself. Which is actually fine, that’s what Uber is for, right? And it’s not like I’m socially awkward or anything. I have a master’s degree in chemical engineering for God’s sake.
“I’m a news junkie. A girlie-girl who loves fashion. I can talk to men or women about almost anything. Except sports. And probably cooking. I’m not much of a cook. Your mom isn’t going to want to talk about cooking, is she? I mean, I’ve seen a few episodes of Cupcake Wars, but past that, I’ve got nothing. Ohmigod I can’t go in there. Tell them I got sick.”
She drops my hand and turns back down the walkway toward the street.
I jog to catch up with her and then stop her.
“Hey,” I say turning her so she’s facing me. “Do you trust me?”
She nods.
“I need to hear you say it, beautiful.”
“I trust you.”
“Have I killed you on my bike yet?”
“No.”
“Have I steered you wrong on any of our dates?”
“No.”
“Have I been too invasive with our date questions?”
“Yes!” But she laughs when she says it, so I know she’s not being serious.
“Why would I mislead you now? When I’m introducing you, someone who is important to me, to the other people in my life who are important to me?”
She shrugs her shoulders in response.
“Because I wouldn’t. Look at me.” She tilts her head back until she meets my eyes. “You are a witty and engaging conversationalist, with a great personality, and infectious smile. They can’t help but love you. Okay?”
She nods. “Okay.”
