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“Though I have one condition,” I continue, her head pulling back from me as her eyebrows lift in interest.
“Let’s hear it,” she tells me with an exasperated sigh, though I can tell she’s already amused.
“Come with me to meet my parents next weekend,” I rush out, holding my breath for an answer.
I’ve been serious about Maria for some time now. But meeting parents is a big step for a lot of relationships. I don’t want her to think I’m moving things along too fast, but I’m sure I want her to meet the people in my life I care so much about, consideringshe’ssomeone in my life that I care so much about.
“Of course,” she agrees with a soft smile.
Though that smile doesn’t remain on her face for long. Her expression morphs into one of worry.
“You don’t need to be concerned about meeting them. They will love you.”
She looks at me for a second before letting out a deep sigh. “It’s not that. It made me remember that at some point you’ll need to meet my father. Not as his colleague, or my volunteer.”
I knew this would have to come up again. Maria and I have been dodging the fact that we’re keeping a secret from her father. But sometimes, when conversations about my work or her dad come up, there’s a silent understanding that, at some point, our little bubble is going to have to burst in order to let her father in.
“I know, baby. And we will. Soon. Let’s just worry about the field trip and meeting my parents for now. Then we can talk about how we’ll break the news to your dad,” I try to calm her, hoping my answer is good enough.
She doesn’t immediately reply, contemplating my words. Finally, she gives me a tentative nod.
“Okay. Just know . . . whatever he says, I’m still going to be with you,” she tells me sincerely, and the resolute look in her eyes has me easily believing her.
“Now,” she says, sitting up in bed despite my protests, “we need to get some breakfast into us.”
“You don’t want to stay in bed a little longer?” I ask with a naughty expression on my face, rolling closer to her and wrapping my arms around her waist.
I start peppering kisses across the bare skin of her stomach, hoping that maybe, she’ll be convinced to stay. There’s something that I would really enjoy having for breakfast, and I can’t find that in the kitchen.
“As much as I would like to,” she chuckles, pressing her hands against my head to push me away, “I’m hungry.”
I let out a deep sigh as I watch her climb out of bed, her bare ass catching my attention as she throws my T-shirt on. As much as I want her to climb back into bed, I can’t leave her hungry, so, with a sigh, I climb out of bed and slip into my briefs.
“Pancakes?” Maria asks as I trail behind her into the kitchen.
“Sound good,” I mumble, disappointed. It’s all I can get out as my attention is focused on her juicy ass peeking out from under my T-shirt.
It’s as if she can feel me staring. She whips around with a smirk on her face, a box of instant pancake mix clutched in her hands.
“I’m going to need you to focus in the kitchen,” she tells me, and I answer her with a small slap on the ass as I grab a mixing bowl from her cabinet.
“Oh, I’m focusing,” I tell her with a chuckle, but I actually try to make myself useful as we whip up our breakfast together.
We move like a well-oiled machine. I grab the ingredients. She puts them in the bowl. She pan-fries the pancakes, and I dutifully wait beside her holding the plate.
As simple as the task is, it fills me with pure bliss. Cooking a meal with someone I care about—a meal we’ll share together—makes me feel all warm and fuzzy, and I catch myself shooting smiles over at Maria as we work.
Until now, the mere thought of domesticity had filled me with dread. But experiencing it with Maria has to be one of the best feelings in the world.
“And that is the last one,” she says as she uses her spatula to set the last pancake onto the plate.
Bringing the plate over to her counter, I gather two plates and forks as she grabs maple syrup from the fridge, the two of us meeting at the counter to begin fixing our plates.
We dig into our meals, talking about our upcoming day, stealing bites off the other’s plate, and generally basking in the presence of each other.
It’s perfect. The idea that soon, we’ll have to head to work and separate for the day sends a pang to my chest. Because that’s what Maria does to me. She makes my body crave spending every moment with her.
“That was delicious. I give it a ten out of ten,” I tell her as I grab our syrup-covered plates and bring them to the sink.
