I’ve known I liked Micah for a while. Even before we started going out, I liked him. Of course, he had a girlfriend then, but when we’d see him on campus, Cindy and I would gawk at him from afar. Okay, I’d gawk at him, while Cindy whispered R-rated things about him. And ever since we’ve been dating, that like has grown and grown.

After getting grilled by my brothers, being asked question after question by my aunts, being flirted with by my annoying cousins, and giving my mom a bouquet of flowers, I know. I’m falling in love with him.

But I’ve never loved anyone before. Well, not like that at least.

With Tim, I thought I could love him, but I never got to that point. How soon is too soon to tell him? Should I wait for him to say it first? Is he even in love with me yet? Will he freak out if I tell him out of the blue? Should I wait until we’re alone? These are all questions that kept me up into the early morning hours, and I’m still thinking about them now, as we drive to his parents’ house. All of the nerves I’m feeling from knowing how I feel about him are compounded, knowing I’m about to meet his mom.

He reassures me his parents are going to love me, but he always emphasizes his dad more. He doesn’t say it, but I know it’s because his mom really liked Lana. I mean, what’s not to like? She’s tall, blonde, pretty, and smart. Oh, and thin. She’s super thin.

No. I have to get rid of those thoughts. I’ve been trying more than ever to not be as self-conscious. I don’t want to be that. I want to just be a girl who’s dating a boy. That’s what I try and think of us as. Just a boy and a girl, who like each other. But then the mind roams, and I remember what Micah looks like without a shirt on. Then it becomes the chubby girl with a hot guy.

No. Stop thinking like that.

“Okay, here we are,” Micah says, pulling into the driveway of the house.

It looks similar to our home. A two-car garage, beautiful front yard. Our house has a fence encompassing the yard, while his parents’ front yard is open to the street.

I don’t realize I’m still sitting in the truck, looking at the house, until Micah taps on my window. “You okay?” He opens the door, and I unbuckle my seatbelt to get out.

“Yeah. Yes. Yeah.”

He laughs, shutting the door as I get out, and then wraps his arms around me. “It’s going to be fine.” He takes a step and backs me up against the side of the truck, bringing a hand up under my chin. “There’s nothing to worry about.” He leans closer. “They’re going to meet you, and you know what they’re going to see?”

“What?” I answer lowly, locking my hands behind his head, so his lips brush against mine.

He whispers, kissing me softly between his words, “How amazing, incredible, smart, pretty, funny—”

“I’m not gonna let you stop if that’s what you’re waiting for.”

“Well, I could keep going, but I’d rather just stop and kiss you more.”

His light kisses finally turn into what I want. Lips pressed against mine, his body against me, and my hands around his neck as his are in my hair. I get lost in his arms every time. Tremors run through me, and I want more. I’ve been wanting more, but too afraid to be that vulnerable with him.

A cough sounds, and we break apart. An older version of Micah stands ten feet away, graying hair, fit build, though not as tall as Micah, and he’s smirking. A sudden burst of embarrassment rips through me, and I hide my face in Micah’s chest.

“Am I interrupting?” older Micah says.

“Yeah, kind of,” Micah answers. I can hear the laughter in his voice.

I slap Micah’s chest. “No. No, no. No, he’s not. No, you’re not.”

His father chuckles and takes a step toward us, offering me his hand. “I’m Jacob. Veronica, I take it?”

“Yes,” I answer, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. I’ve heard plenty of wonderful things about you.” He gives me another smile, then beams at his son, proudly. “You seem to have made quite the impression on Micah. Sorry about interrupting—”

“Oh, no. You weren’t interrupting.”

“Yes, he was.” Micah nudges me with his elbow.

His dad laughs again. “I was fine with waiting, but your mother saw your truck pull in and sent me out here for you.” He motions to the front door. “Shall we?”

Heading inside, I can smell the food throughout the house. Micah told me his mom was making one of his favorite dishes, a fettuccini pasta dinner. I love fettuccini alfredo, so I’m looking forward to it.

“Ma.” He walks over to her, and I trail behind. She smiles brightly, giving him a hug. “This is Veronica.” He reaches out and gives my hand a squeeze.

I hold out my free hand to her. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Fernandez.”

“Oh, stop that.” She waves my hand away and gives me a hug. “You can call me Justine.”

Smiling, I look back at her husband. “Nice. Jacob and Justine.”

“Our friends used to call us JJ,” Jacob says. “Some still do.”

“Well, it smells amazing in here.” I turn back to Justine. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Oh, no.” She glances at the stove. “We have a little system in place. I’ve got almost everything ready. I hope you like fettuccini.”

“I love it.”

“Great. I’ve just finished mixing in the mushrooms and chicken so we can get started right now. I’m starving.”

“Mushrooms?”

“Mm-hm.” She nods, smiling.

I flash Micah a worried look. He raises an eyebrow at me. “I’m … I’m sorry. I’m allergic to mushrooms.”

“You are?” Micah asks, and I nod.

“Oh,” Justine’s nose twitches. “Well … hmm, this may be a problem. I had a salad prepared also, but …” She lifts her eyebrows. “Mushrooms.”

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve said something.”

“It’s not your fault.” Micah pulls me closer. “I should’ve told you what we were having. I never thought about you being allergic to something.”

“Well,” his dad speaks up, “we could order some pizza or something.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Justine turns around and covers the pan.

I feel horrible. She doesn’t seem too disappointed, but she must be. Here she is, cooking dinner to meet her son’s girlfriend, and now everything she’s prepared I can’t eat.

“Or …” Micah begins. I look up and see him grinning. “We could have Micah’s Mystery Box.”

His dad laughs. “We haven’t done that in a long time.”

Justine seems to smile, but she still looks slightly deflated. “Okay, yes. Let’s do that.”

“Perfect!” Micah slaps his hands together, rubbing them. “Off you guys go.”

“What? Me too?” I look at him, perplexed.

“Come on, Veronica.” Jacobs motions for me to follow him. “This is either going to be a very endearing trait Micah’s about to instill in you, or you two may be breaking up tonight.”

I follow along, confused, as Micah and Justine laugh.

Walking down a hallway, we enter their living room, where it looks like Micah’s mom already has a photo album sitting out. Everything reminds me of a TV show or movie. The house is clean, his parents seem like they’re the perfect parenting couple, and there are family portraits on the walls. Justine sits down on a couch and taps the seat next to her. “Sit, Veronica.”

She’s a beautiful woman. Taller than me, maybe a couple inches shorter than Jacob, she has high cheekbones. Her light brown hair is straight, and I can’t help but think she seems like she could easily be a savvy professional woman, the way she carries herself, if I didn’t already know from Micah she enjoys staying home and taking care of her family. And yes, I notice that she’s thin, too. Not too small, she has a curvy shape, but nothing that would qualify her as heavy or even over-weight.

She picks up the photo album. “I don’t get to show these often, so I have to take every chance I get.”

Flipping through the pages, I see adorable Micah when he was a baby. The photo is weathered, and Justine’s holding her baby close to her, while Jacob stands next to them both, looking at them like they’re his world. He looks so much like Micah as his younger self, I let my mind wander for a second, hoping that Micah stares at me like that when I’m not aware.

“Here he is, just after the art bug bit him.”

Micah appears to be about five or six, and he proudly holds up a portrait of a stick figure. He’s sitting at a table, Jacob next to him, with what looks like rulers and drafting tools laid out across the table.

She turns the page to another picture, same table and setting, but Micah’s not drawing. He’s sitting at the table, mesmerized, with his hands under his chin, while Jacob seems to be working on some sort of design. I know Micah’s told me how much he looks up to his dad, and this picture encapsulates that perfectly.

Justine turns another page, and this one is of Micah and her sitting at the table. Again, Micah looks as proud as can be, but Justine seems like she’s trying not to laugh. Sitting between them is a massive platter of candy bars, slices of bread, some corn on the cob, and mustard and ketchup squirted over all of it.

Justine lets out a laugh. “Ah, yes. Micah’s first Mystery Box. He’s told you about our little system of cooking, setting the table, and washing the dishes?” I nod with a smile. “Well, one night he said that I work too hard. That he wanted to make dinner for us. What was he, Jacob? Five?”

“Six.”

“Right,” she chuckles. “So, we said okay. We let him loose in the kitchen and offered him help, but he wouldn’t take it. He just kept telling us we were in his way. Finally, after about ten minutes, we decided to just let him make whatever he wanted to make. We called it Micah’s Mystery Dinner. It wasn’t ’til a little later when we thought he was old enough to use the oven—”

“And knew he finally outgrew just throwing random items together,” Jacob adds with a chuckle.

“Yes, that was important. I’d eaten as many ketchup and mustard bananas as I could eat by that time. But when we thought he could make something at least somewhat edible, we let him use the oven and started calling it Micah’s Mystery Box.”

“Wow,” I let out a quiet laugh, running a finger over the picture. “You guys are amazing. Micah’s incredible, you should be very proud.”

“We are,” she replies, giving me a heartfelt smile.

After going through a couple more pages, Micah walks into the room. “It’s done!”

Jacob gives me a weary look. “This is it, Veronica. Once you try the mystery box, there’s no turning back. You can walk out the door now, and none of us will think the less of you.”

I laugh, and Micah scoffs. “Oh, ye of little faith. Just because I haven’t cooked one in a while, doesn’t mean I don’t still got my chops.”

“We’ll see,” Justine counters.

“I didn’t hear much cooking,” Jacob says as we walk into the dining room.

“That’s because there wasn’t much cooking,” Micah replies. I look over at him to see a smile. He reaches around a corner, and grabs two large plastic bags, putting them on the table.

“Cheater!” his dad yells at him.

“Oh, come on,” Micah laughs, taking out cartons of Chinese food. “You guys are my parents. I’ve always known you wouldn’t get rid of me. But I’m not taking that chance with Veronica.” He winks at me, and I shake my head, giggling. Setting down five different boxes, he grabs a handful of plates and cutlery, placing them in the middle. “I got your favorite, V. Beef and Broccoli. Kung Pao for you, Dad. And I didn’t forget the chicken egg rolls for you, Mom.”

“How did you get this so fast?” I ask him.

“Magic.” He twirls his fingers around. All three of us exchange unconvinced stares and then look back at him. “Okay, I sent Taylor a text message. I knew he was getting off work and had him pick up some food from the Chinese restaurant next to the gym.”

We all laugh, and Micah sits down next to me. While we eat, his parents exchange more stories of him growing up, and find out a little more about me. As different as our families are—mine with the huge extended family and siblings compared to Micah being an only child—it still feels the same. The same closeness. The same kind of love his parents have that I know my parents have. And that love I’ve been feeling for him keeps getting deeper.

After we finish eating, Micah assumes the station that he tells me is customary and begins to take the plates to the sink. I grab the cups we used and follow him along.

“It’s okay, I got this.”

“I want to help. I already messed up dinner.”

He bumps me with his hip. “You didn’t mess up anything. That was my fault.”

“Well, I still want to help.”

Adding soap to a sponge, he starts cleaning a plate. “So, that wasn’t so bad, right?” he whispers to me.

“No,” I whisper back. “It was great, actually.”

“I told you they’d love you.”

His words hang in the air. It’s not a romantic or intimate setting, but it feels like he wants to say more. It feels like I should say more. Before either of us can say anything, though, the doorbell rings.

“I’ll get it,” Justine calls out as Micah looks away. “Oh, no. Honey, what are you doing here?”

Micah gives me a confused look. I hear the door close and then muffled voices.

“What’s going on?” Micah asks.

He dries his hands and walks over to the door. I hear Jacob stop him. “Micah, maybe just let your mom deal with that.”

“What is it?”

“It’s … Lana.”

A knot forms in the pit of my stomach. I dry my hands but stay by the sink, unsure what to do. Micah hasn’t responded to his father, and I still hear the shrouded voices. Then the door swings open and the sounds are clear again.

“No, I know you said to give him time, but I just need to talk to him, Justine.”

“Lana, honey, I’m sorry, but—”

“Lana, what the hell?”

“Micah! Micah, please, I just want to talk to you.”

“How’d you even know I was going to be home? What are you doing here?”

“Your mom told me—”

“Mom!”

“No, Micah, it wasn’t like that. I told her—Lana, I told you when you called, he was coming over with his girlfriend.”

“Mom, why are you telling her anything? Lana, you need to leave. Now.”

“No, Micah. Please! Please, I know I screwed up, but I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. It was a mistake. Please, you have to believe me.”

“Believe you? Are you kidding me? You cheated on me. Twice! Why the hell should I ever believe anything you say?”

“Please, I’m sorry, Micah!” Her voice strains. She’s crying. I feel bad for her, but I also wish she’d just listen to Micah and leave.

“Mom, give us a minute.” It’s not a question. I don’t hear Justine’s voice, just the door close. More muffled sounds.

Even though I can’t make out the words entirely, he sounds mad. Even madder than when I heard him talking on the phone back in the café. And she sounds hysterical. Then silence. I take a deep breath, unsure what’s going on out there. I want to check on him, but I don’t. His relationship with her is nothing like the one I had with Tim. Tim cheated on me and made it seem like it was no big deal. Lana truly sounds heartbroken. And even though I know she brought it upon herself, I feel sorry for her.

The door opens and closes.

“Mom, what the hell?”

“Micah,” Jacob’s voice thunders and there’s silence for a moment.

“Sorry,” Micah says. “But seriously, Mom. What were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t tell her to come over though.”

“But what did I say, Mom? I said please don’t tell her anything.”

“But, Micah, she seems so broken. And she knows it was a mistake. I can’t just overlook that.”

“You have to. I don’t care if it was a mistake, she screwed up. There’s no coming back from that. I don’t want to go back to whatever we had. I have something else now. I have someone else now.”

My nerves and anxiousness start to disappear. Maybe he is at the same place I am. Maybe he does love me. But before I can feel warm over his words, his mom drops ice down my spine.

“But people make mistakes, Micah. I know you like this girl, but you have so much history with Lana. You guys were so good together.”

“Justine,” Jacob’s voice echoes again. Only this time, I know it’s not a warning for his wife about talking to Micah. It’s because he’s the only one of the three that remembers I can hear them.

“Shit,” Micah hisses, and I hear his footsteps. When he turns a corner, I stand there, nodding at him, a helpless expression on my face. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“It’s okay.”

Justine hurries into the kitchen, walking past her son. “Veronica, I’m so sorry. Honey, I didn’t mean it how it sounded. Please, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” I give her a small nod and smile. “You’re right. They do have a lot of history. Um, I should probably be getting back home now. Micah?”

He nods, giving me the same defeated expression I know I’m wearing. “Yeah.”