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“I don’t think it’s necessary.”
We were meeting my parents at Le Garde Bar and Grill. It was a favorite for us and a common gathering place when they were in town. I worried they wouldn’t think that Austin was good enough for me. He was more than good enough and my better half.
I wrung my hands as we drove to downtown Los Angeles without realizing I was doing it until Austin stopped me. “Nervous?”
“Please don’t take offense to anything my parents say. They can be blunt.”
“Are you worried they’ll think I’m not good enough?”
“They’re opinion doesn’t matter to me. I love you.”
“What should I say if they ask how we met?”
I thought about this because if I said we met on vacation; my mother would raise an eyebrow. She believed in good solid foundations for relationships, and meeting someone in a bar or vacation wasn’t her idea of one.
“How about a screening? We often invite the public to review our movies before release.”
“Which one?”
“Wallaby Manor. You’ve seen it, and it was released in late January which means the screenings would be in late December, early January.”
“Why do we have to lie?”
“You’ll get it after you meet my parents.”
“Do you really think this man is for you?” my mother said.
We were in the restroom at Le Garde. My parents had been firing questions at Austin for the past two hours. He was cordial and polite even though I could see a hint of annoyance in his amber eyes.
“Absolutely. I love him.”
“Oh Samantha, you’ve only known him for six months. Did you tell him you love him?”
“Of course. He loves me, too.”
“I hope you plan on waiting if marriage is in your future.”
I looked in the large mirror as my mother washed her hands. “Why do you think he’s so wrong for me?”
“An English professor at USC? You can do better, and you did with Ivan.”
I frowned at my mother’s reflection. “Ivan was a self-absorbed, arrogant asshole. He dropped me for a woman over twenty years younger than him.”
“Maybe you didn’t treat him right.”
“He felt emasculated by my advancement at Mountain Top. I told you this.”
My mother took her compact from her purse, applying some to her nose. “If you’d become a doctor, you wouldn’t have this problem. You would’ve found another doctor to marry just like I did.”
I shook my head. “I hate the sight of blood. It would never work.”
“I still think you can do better than Mr. Doyle.”
“I don’t want to do better. I love him. Can’t you be happy for me?”
“I am happy, dear. I worry.”
“Worry about what?”
