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“Seriously, it’s no trouble to stop and pick up dinner for us and Maria. Text me an order, or I’ll go rogue,” Mav yells over the noise in the locker room. We hang up and I text.
Me: I’m craving your meat
Mav: What will Nonna eat?
Me: Fine. Get the non-spicy Indian food for you and Nonna, and I’ll take madras curry
Mav: As you wish
Mav: I love you *heart emoji*
Me: I love you more *pulsing heart emoji*
I text Maria we’ll bring her dinner, and I’ll edit a video before Mav gets home. He practically lived here before, but now we’re settled. We’re where we’re supposed to be.
His parents came over the day Mav moved in and apologized to me. His mom was nervous, and his dad his usual aloof self. Considering everything, it went well.
Mav set clear boundaries when his mom wanted to characterize our years apart as an unfortunate mistake. In his eyes, she needs to take responsibility for her actions before she’s forgiven. He’s been clear: My need for love and acceptance is more important than their comfort, and my heart skips a beat every time I think about it.
One sticking point was what will happen to the furniture they brought him from his childhood home.
Mav suggested paying to have it shipped back to them, and suddenly donating the items was the best solution. Crisis averted, and they seem genuinely invested in building a relationship with me and us.
There’s an insidious voice that randomly pops up and agrees with Mav’s concern that something bad is going to happen. Which is inevitable. He could get hurt, or I could, or one of us could be in a car accident, or a million other things. I’m not good at math, but I’m sure the odds aren’t favorable for living a life without pain or tragedy.
I roll my shoulders to rid myself of useless thoughts. Worrying increases the chances of it happening; it’s the principle of manifestation or something.
My goal is to remain optimistic but cautious. I’ll take the peace offering from Mav’s mom but hold her at arm’s length.
I finish the edit and check Mav’s location. It’s actually super convenient to know how far away he is. He’s left the restaurant, but it’ll take a bit in traffic, so I open my email, scanning it for anything that could be related to Maria’s family.
Lo has a tech friend who can navigate public records because of course he does. Maria’s sister hasn’t filed taxes in two years, and I’m afraid the next thing we’ll find is a death certificate.
I hear the door and meet Mav on the landing to go up to Nonna’s floor.
“Hey there, sexy. Going my way?” I lean against the wall.
“I’m always going your way.” He pulls me in for a kiss, and I climb him like a tree.
“What if I’m going the wrong direction?” I ask.
“Nothing matters as long as I’m with you.” Mav swats my ass as I ascend the stairs in front of him.
“Nonna,” I call as I use the code to open her door.
“Guess what?” She claps her hands together. “I got a call from my nephew! I’m going to meet him on Tuesday.”
“That’s fantastic.” I kiss her cheek but frown at Mav. Lo’s guy has been searching for descendants without luck. Her husband died five years ago. “How did he find you?”
“On one of those genealogy websites. He’s shyer than a cat in a room full of rocking chairs but very polite.” She sits while I distribute plates and silverware for us around the coffee table. She has a formal dining room, but that’s for special occasions. Nothing has qualified since I moved in.
“Didn’t think you did one of those tests.” I scoop food from the container onto her plate as Mav fills glasses of water for us.
“I didn’t, but they can fill in the blanks when the people related to you send in their info. He’s thirty-five and comes to the city for business at least twice a week, so we’re going to meet for lunch.” She’s too excited to eat.
“I’d love to meet him too, if you don’t mind,” I say absently, planning to follow her wherever she goes.
“Oh, I’d love my boys to meet each other. Maverick, will you be in town?” She takes a bite of food.
