“Our parents have that look on their face again,” I whisper to Claire as we cross the busy sushi restaurant and come within sight of both my and her parents, who are sitting at a raised table and already have a round of drinks in front of them.

“Yeah, but we’re ready for it this time,” she whispers back with a conspiratorial grin.

“Is anyone really ever ready for your mother?”

“Hush!”

I’m grinning by the time we get to the table. Our parents pause their conversation to stand up and greet us with “So glad you could make it!” and “There they are!” as they hug us. Within a minute, we’re all seated again, and the waitress comes by to take our orders.

“So,” my dad says, putting a fist on the table and smiling at both Claire and I, “are we in business? It’s official this time?”

“Yes, it’s official,” I say, chuckling and squeezing Claire’s hand under the table. “Our IDs now say ‘officially dating’.”

“Okay, okay,” Dad chuckles, rolling his eyes at the joke.

“Well then, for the second time, congratulations, you two,” Claire’s mom says with a broad smile on her face. “Gosh, it’s been one hell of a rollercoaster, hasn’t it?”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Claire says. “If you’d told me this was coming my way a few years ago, I don’t think I would have believed you.”

“We tried to tell you it was coming when he first showed up at brunch last month,” my mom laughs.

I glance at Claire just as an uneasy smile forms on her lips. No doubt that expression matches mine perfectly. A his-and-hers grimace set.

“Not to burst your bubble,” I intervene, “but we’re really making our own way through all this despite everything else, not because of it. Neither of us are the kind of people who like things to be too arranged.”

“Oh, you know I don’t mean that,” Mom says, waving a dismissive hand at me. “I’m sure the two of you have your own thing going on, all our gossip aside.”

“That interview made it seem like the two of you are a match made in heaven, though,” Castilla adds with a grin.

“That interview,” I say with a weary sigh and a forced chuckle, and Claire squeezes my hand under the table. “I swear it’s going to be the death of me. My head chef and I were both assuming it was going to focus more on him and the restaurant rather than us, and I don’t think I’m going to live it down any time soon.”

“Well, let him be a grump,” Castilla says. “The two of you can’t help but steal the show, you know? Just look at you!”

“No, he’s right,” Claire says firmly. “The last thing I want is for the two of us to draw attention from Ocotillo. It’s something we’re both invested in, and if it doesn’t stand on its own merits, it’s not fair to either our work or the rest of the staff involved.”

I feel warmth spread in my heart when Claire says that, and I’m proud to have someone like her at my side in the kitchen, lover or not.

“Fine, we’ll save the gushing for the wedding,” Castilla says, a wicked smile on her face. Despite our groans, she and the rest of our parents aren’t easily dissuaded. “Speaking of, Claire dear, we need to figure out a date for the wedding. That chapel you like, the one with that mountain vista down south where your cousin got married—it books up months in advance, so we need to get on top of that. Now, I’ve gone ahead and taken the liberty of booking a fitting for your wedding dress, and I’d like to go over some of the catering options next week, assuming you can convince Ben to give you a little time off,” she adds with a wink to me, “and then-”

“Aaaand let me just stop you there, Mom,” Claire says, holding a finger out and moving it toward Castilla as if to shush her, to her surprise. “Okay, again, I really appreciate the enthusiasm, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Castilla looks a little crest-fallen, but our parents are stubborn. She opens her mouth to reply just as our round of miso soup arrives, and we all pause to give the waitress polite smiles before she hurries off.

My mom picks up the slack where Claire’s left off. “We just want to be proactive about these things,” she says, crossing her legs and looking pointedly at me. “Before you know it, time will slip by and you’ll have been stagnating too long to keep things exciting.”

“We’re not like the four of you, though,” I say firmly. “We want to take things at our own pace and make sure we’re happy with everything before moving ahead one step at a time. I’m sure you can appreciate that.”

“Moving quickly didn’t hurt us, if you ask me,” Claire’s dad says, “but I can understand that.”

“This is just exciting for us, seeing you two finally get together after everything,” Castilla says.

“So you’ll be happy to see us taking things slowly, since it’s still in the early days,” Claire says just as firmly as me as we start to dig into our miso soup. “Don’t get me wrong, we’re really happy, but there are already cameras pointed at us every other day, it feels like. We’d like to keep things a little more low-key as much as we can. Besides, Ben already filed the paperwork to have the domestic partnership dissolved, so we’re legally back to square one where we want to be.”

Our parents roll their eyes and smirk, probably thinking this is all some formality, but they finally seem to relent. This is probably not a good time to reveal my dirty secret.

“Fine, fine,” my mom says at last. “But just so you know, you’re spoiling a perfectly good relationship story for your grandchildren.”

Claire nearly spits her miso out at the mention of grandchildren, and I chuckle.

“Sounds like ‘taking it slow’ is going to be a work in progress for them as much,” I say to Claire as she pats her mouth clean.

Of course, I’m grateful for the change in topic, because now I have to hide my own embarrassment that I’d rather not bring up at all.

I haven’t actually filed those papers. They’re still in the glove box of my car where I shoved them about a month ago. I’ve just kept forgetting over and over again, and each time it crosses my mind, it’s like there’s something in me that kind of resists it in a way I can’t explain even to myself.

I want to blame how busy my life has been, now that I own two bustling restaurants. But a part of me feels like it solidifies my relationship with Claire somehow . . . and as silly as it sounds, I don’t want to lose that.

I don’t want to spoil the mood, though, because I have a feeling Claire would greatly disapprove of the fact, especially since it would undermine this sort of tag-team resistance against our parents’ overwhelming support. So, as we finish our miso and watch the most appetizing plate of sashimi I’ve ever seen come our way, I decide to just let that slide and try to take care of it later.

A part of me wonders if it wouldn’t just be better to wait it out and see if Claire is interested in moving in with me. That would work to our benefit and save some headaches over the paperwork. It could be something nice and romantic to surprise her with down the road. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I mix some wasabi into my soy sauce while Claire puts her lump of wasabi onto my plate with a grimace on her face.

I know I should be getting my ass into gear with this, but the more time I spend with Claire, the easier it is to just ignore all the strings that come attached with our relationship.

I wish I could turn back time and meet her before that brunch, pull her aside and get something started the way I want. I don’t like having things out of my control like this, and I like other people pulling those strings even less.

All I know for sure is that I’m liking my time with Claire, and I want to do everything I can to keep things going the way they are. Some might call that micro-management, but the way I see it, I’m giving my Claire everything she deserves.

As the dinner goes on, I can’t keep my eyes off her, noticing the way she plays with her hair unconsciously while she talks, the way she picks at her food, when she’s sincerely laughing and when she’s faking it . . . it’s like getting to know someone I feel like I’ve always known.

I like that.

I want everything to stay exactly the same.

And I’m damn good at getting what I want.