He’s right. He usually is.
“I know, Dad.” My agreeing with him seems to shock both Greyston and my mother. “But can you tell me that you and Mom never gave into your urges? Because based on what I’ve seen—”
Dad’s quick to clear his throat, but not before Greyston has fully started to understand where I was headed with that comment. “I guess it just all kind of took me by surprise, is all.”
Mom reaches across and pats the back of my dad’s hand. “It took us both by surprise, dear. So, how long have the two of you been dating now? I mean it was just last week that you were telling me you didn’t think there was anything you could do to—”
My eyebrows shoot up, and I give her a very pointed look. “Mom, please stop talking.”
“That was me?” Greyston smirks cockily. I swear his ego’s growing by the second.
“Maybe,” I tell him. “And this just sort of happened, Mom. Last night…this morning? I’m not entirely sure what day we’re counting here.”
Dad turns his head toward me. “So, you’re not even technically dating?”
“Well, we haven’t labeled it yet. We haven’t really gotten the chance to talk about it, you know?” I know the minute I’ve said it that I shouldn’t have. Dad’s face is turning red, and I can see that vein in the middle of his forehead beginning to pulse. “That’s not…that came out wrong. It’s not like we’ve been too busy, you know, doing that to talk.” I’m growing more and more flustered with every attempt to fix this, so I just give up.
“Things have been pretty hectic for us,” Greyston jumps in, saving me from rambling further, should I decide to open my mouth again. “I just got back from Houston last night, Juliette had a—” He stops himself mid-sentence, probably gathering that my father will likely have a conniption if he heard I went on a date with somebody else last night. “Juliette had previous plans with a group of people. I had actually hoped to talk to her about all of this last night over dinner, but I didn’t want her to have to cancel.”
While I’m more than thankful for his stepping in to rescue me, I shoot him a look that calls him a liar; he did want me to cancel on Erik. And, truthfully, I really should have listened to him. You know what they say about hindsight.
Mel returns with our meals, and we stop talking while she places them in front of us. After thanking her, she turns and heads back toward the kitchen.
Deciding that this is as good a time as any to save Greyston or me having to explain further before we actually get a chance to talk alone, I change the subject. “So, Dad, you excited about the game tomorrow?” It’s not a seamless segue, but I’m hoping it’ll do the trick.
This seems to change his demeanor, and I feel like I can finally relax. “It should be fun…assuming my interrogating the two of you hasn’t gotten my invite revoked.”
“Don’t be silly,” I say, poking at the bananas on my crepe before taking a bite.
Everybody else follows my lead and digs into their brunch before Dad starts asking Greyston about what he was doing in Houston.
“I was there signing a young baseball player who’s fresh out of college,” Greyston explains. “He was being scouted by a few teams but had no representation, and the Diamondbacks are very interested in him. We had him signed by Thursday, and have begun the process of getting him a contract for next season.”
This then starts a debate of the Phillies versus the Diamondbacks between my Pennsylvania-born father and an Arizona-raised Greyston while Mom and I talk about school and her job.
“I’ll be happy when winter break gets here,” I tell Mom. “I feel like I’m running on fumes.”
“I tried to warn you, sweetheart,” Mom tells me, her tone indicating that she’s sympathetic to my plight, but not quite saying, I told you so.
As brunch wears on, I begin feeling full a lot sooner than I was expecting. While I’m sure my hangover has something to do with my diminished appetite, I refuse to let more than half of my meal go to waste. After eating my entire crepe and about a third of everything else, I finally admit defeat and place my napkin on my plate. We don’t leave right after our meal, instead choosing to stay for a few more cups of coffee and catch up.
“You know,” Greyston says when my mom starts talking about having us over for dinner in a week or two. “I was thinking of inviting my folks over for dinner next Sunday. Why don’t the two of you join us?”
It’s ridiculous how happy something as small as Greyston inviting my parents to meet his parents makes me.