Page 88 of Fire
Dude.
Merc
Why?
Me
Because she just got divorced. And we’re taking it slow.
And I’m fucking terrified.
“Hey.” Her hesitant voice has me looking up into her dark-brown eyes.
“Hey.” I give her a warm smile.
She returns it with a shy one. “I was wondering…” She nibbles on her bottom before continuing. “Do you think when we’re in San Francisco that you might be okay with having dinner with my parents?” I stare at her blankly and blink, completely dumbfounded. She misreads my expression and immediately starts to backpedal. “It’s okay if you don’t—if you think it’s too soon. I mean, we can just do something else, or?—”
I press a finger to her lips, putting a stop to her panicked verbal diarrhea. “I would love to.”
“You would?”
I chuckle and nod. “I’ve been freaking out for the last twenty minutes trying to find the courage to ask you to meet my crazy family, so honestly, this is a relief.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Nope.”
“But…wait. Aren’t I going to meet them at the concert?”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “But that’s not really a proper introduction, is it? I want them to meet you. To get to know you and see how amazing you are.”
Her expression softens. “Okay.”
“Okay. But fair warning,” I say. “My family is crazy.”
“My mom asked you for shirtless pics of Asher for her home screen, so let’s not compare crazy, m’kay?”
“All right.” I shrug. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I tried to warn her,” I tell Zander with a shrug as we stand back and watch the mayhem.
“In all fairness, I don’t think anyone can ever be prepared to meet your family. I had the benefit of meeting them in small doses, and even that was a lot.”
Literally every member of my family, minus Myles—where is that little shit?—is crammed into the small room that makes up Zara’s clinic in the Crypto.com Arena. While I was doing a meet and greet, one of the PAs gave them a tour backstage, and I managed to head them off just before they got here.
Not that it did any good.
“A doctor!” My mom gushes, turning toward me with her hand on her heart. “So impressive, Hendrix.”
I scrunch my brow in confusion and sneak a glance toward Zara. She smirks. “Thanks?”
“And you’re so pretty. Isn’t she pretty, Hen?”
“Yeah, Pres.” I grin, my eyes still fixed on Zara, who I know is probably hating the attention. Especially since she hasn’t had a chance to change and is still in the leggings and oversized sweatshirt she wore on the plane. “She’s beautiful.”
That earns me a blush. Cash comes to pat me on the back, and I tear my gaze away from her to focus on my big brother. “Good job. I’m proud of you.”
“For dating a doctor?”
