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Worth the Wait (McKinney_Walker #1)(21)

By:Claudia Connor


She’d been so sure they could survive anything. She’d been wrong.





* * *





Twenty-two years ago…





IT WAS THE SUMMER after Mia’s junior year when Nick finally met Mia’s parents. She’d told him they didn’t travel, so he hadn’t expected them to come to Virginia. Not wanting to go an entire ten weeks of summer break without seeing her, he’d suggested he fly to Boston for a few days. She’d been ecstatic, even if she sounded more than a little nervous.

He arrived on a Tuesday evening at the little house on Broad Street. The house was split in half for two families, as was common in the area. Mia’s family was on the bottom floor. Old but spotless and smelled of garlic and candles. Everywhere he looked was lace and faded pictures. Mia had described it to him, of course. They’d talked of her childhood often. Seeing it added another layer of understanding.

Dinner was begova corba, a traditional meat-and-vegetable stew.

“This is delicious. Now I know where Mia gets her cooking skills.”

“Mia is for more than cooking,” her father said.

“Yes, sir.”

“He cooks as much as I do,” Mia chimed in. “More even. But it’s nice to have a real kitchen and eat real food instead of cafeteria.”

Mia’s father lifted his glass of wine. “So you’ve said.”

He knew her parents weren’t happy about the amount of time she spent there, correctly assuming it wasn’t all studying. Not sitting on the couch with an acceptable two feet between them.

“You have a child,” her father said shortly after they’d blessed the food.

“His sister,” Mia answered quickly.

“Yes, I know this, but still, a child to care for.”

“Yes. I do,” Nick said, looking Mia’s father straight in the eye. “She’s four.”

“A child is a lot. You will want a wife to help you.”

“I’m doing okay.”

“He’s doing great.” Mia squeezed his hand under the table.

“Mmm.” Her father made a sound, and they went on eating. That seemed to end that discussion, for which he was eternally grateful.

The rest of the dinner was amicable, mostly focusing on Mia and her studies. After dinner and before dessert, Mia helped her mother put the kitchen to rights while Nick stood outside on a small porch with Mia’s father.

“She is in love with you,” her father began.

Nick wasn’t sure how to respond. It didn’t sound like a question, so he agreed. “Yes. I think so.” It felt good that her father knew. Whether he’d seen it with his own eyes or his daughter had told him didn’t matter.

“I would ask you not to marry her before she has reached her dream. I know that is a lot to ask of a man who wants to make a woman his, but… I am an old man, and I would ask it anyway.”

“Mr. James, I’m not wanting Mia to marry me and keep house. We’re both still in school. I know she has dreams, and I respect those. She’s brilliant and giving. I love that about her.”

“So you will not ask her.” He nodded sharply and laid a hand on Nick’s shoulder, his grip stronger than he looked. “That is good. And when the time comes, I will give you my blessing.”

It was a lot to ask, but if they weren’t getting married, they could hold off on the engagement. It all seemed like a long way off. He was barely twenty-two and, like Mia, still had a lot of things to accomplish. He nodded. He saw no reason not to agree as long as the father’s wishes were in line with the daughter’s. “You have my word.”

“That is good. We’ll go in now. You will like my Ana’s bourekas. Like you would say, turnover, with apples.”

“I’m sure I will,” he said, and walked in ahead of Mia’s father, feeling like he’d passed the test.

The turnovers weren’t quite ready, and while Mia’s parents huddled in the kitchen, very likely to discuss him, he found Mia in her old bedroom. It was small, much smaller than her dorm room as a resident assistant. A handmade quilt covered the bed. Lace curtains, the only frill in the room, hung over the windows. It was very Mia. Simple. Academic. He started to close the door, but she turned.

“Don’t. Ma will just come by and open it.” She smiled, and he did, too.

Her parents might be strict by many standards, but they loved Mia dearly, and he understood that. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed the side of her neck. “So I can relax knowing there haven’t been many boys in your room?”

“Absolutely not.”

He looked around. Everything was neat and tidy; only a globe sat on her desk. The shelf above held various books. Maps and posters of the human body covered one wall. A row of encyclopedias, actual hardcopies, leather bound, filled a small bookcase. The same ones he knew Mia and her father had often read at night.