I look over at him, and I don’t mean to sob out. “She likes me.” He walks over to me, and I bury myself in his chest. This man who didn’t let me run away from him; this man who holds me in his arms every night when he can and loves all my crazy.

“Of course, she likes you,” he whispers, and now Yanni comes in.

“What happened to her?” he asks with worry. “Angela, what did you do to her? Did you give her the talk?”

“Oh, would you hush,” Angela says hisses to her husband. “They live together. You think I need to give her the talk?”

I try to stop the laugh from coming out, but I can’t, and my arms wrap around Mark’s waist and then I look up at him as he looks down at me. “Love you,” I tell him, and he leans down and kisses me.

“Mom, that lasagna was amazing,” Chris says, coming in and rinsing off his dish right next to me.

“What is wrong with you?” Angela asks Chris. “Vivienne is crying, and all you can think about is lasagna.” She puts her hands on her hips.

He wipes his hands and is coming toward me, holding out his hand, and Mark holds out a hand. “Don’t even try.”

“See that, Mom?” Chris says. “He threatened me.”

And just like that, everyone laughs, and I feel just like one of them.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Mark

I walk up the stairs to the little corner of the garage with my ear pods in and the tennis ball in my hand, and when I finally get to the last step, I see her leaning against the wall.

“Hey there,” she says, putting her phone away. “How’re you feeling?”

“Good,” I tell her and go to kiss her. Tonight, we play for the Cup, and she’s been a nervous wreck for me. We still haven’t come out as a couple. Neither of us really cares, but at night, we go to bed together. Half of her stuff is at my house, and now she spends more time there than at her apartment. As much as I want her to just move in completely, I also don’t want to push her.

“Are you nervous?” she asks me, and I just shrug.

“My parents just got here,” I tell her, and she smiles. After Christmas with my parents, she and my mom have become very close, and just as my father calls me every night at five to check in, my mother does the same with Vivienne. At first, I thought it was too much, but then one night, Vivienne called her before she had a chance to check in. Plus on Mother’s Day she flew her in and took her to the spa all day and had her glammed up.