I get a little more gooey feeling when Malik curls his hand around my neck, holding me in place to level me with a serious look. “I’m glad I can share you with my family. I hate not being able to shout all this to the world.”
“Bro code and all,” I say with a solemn nod.
He squeezes my neck. “Bro code and all,” he agrees quietly. “But I don’t have to hold back with my family. They would never judge. Never want me to go without anything that makes me happy. So, while we might have to tread a little more cautiously around our work friends, I’m happy you’re here and you and I can be together as a couple.”
“I’m glad, too,” I murmur. This time, I lean inward. My lips brush against his, and Malik sighs with contentment.
?
There’s definitely surprise on everyone’s face when we walk into the restaurant with Malik holding Avery’s carrier. I didn’t argue when he pulled it out of the backseat after unlatching it and didn’t hand it to me. Instead, he merely looped his arm under the handle so it rested in the crook of his elbow, then put his other hand to my lower back to escort us inside.
“Babysitter fell through,” is the first thing he said to his mom as her eyes fell on the baby carrier.
Then Marilyn Fournier bent closer to look at Avery, her mouth curving into a delighted smile. Her eyes came to me as she said, “Oh, Anna… she’s beautiful.” Then she stuck her hand out, right over the carrier, and said, “I’m Marilyn by the way.”
That broke the ice. I was introduced to his father, Laurence, his younger sister, Simone—who looked just like a female version of Malik with dark hair and hazel eyes—and then her husband, Van Turner. He, ironically, was a former teammate of her brothers, Lucas and Max, but chose to take a somewhat early retirement from the Cold Fury to move to Vermont with Simone where they’re both going to college. I found that to be amazing, walking away from a professional hockey career to go to school and be with the love of his life.
When we’re seated—the hostess placing one extra chair at our table where Malik put the carrier to sit between the two of us—I get immediately drawn into lively conversation with his family.
I had thought I might get bombarded with all kinds of personal questions about myself, but what I quickly find out is Malik has already told them all kinds of details about me. They knew about me dropping out of college and going into the military, about my position at Jameson, and that I’m a Pittsburgh native. They tease me that I’ll be rooting for my beloved Pittsburgh Titans tomorrow at the hockey game, and promise not to hold it against me.
And finally, I know he’s said something to them about my abilities as a mother because Marilyn says, “It’s just so admirable everything you’re doing as a single mom, Anna.”
It overwhelms me, understanding that while Malik might not be able to share me with most of the world—he talks a lot about me to his family. I have no clue if that extends to all of his doubts and insecurities about having a relationship with me, but I’ll ask him about it when we’re alone. I’m going to ask if he’s told them everything we’ve recently overcome to be together.
Ultimately, it’s clear I have no reason to be nervous with these people. They accept me as I am.
It wasn’t like this with Jimmy—meeting his family, I mean. He was never close to his parents or the extended family he left behind in rural Louisiana. He’d gone into the military at eighteen to escape a family riddled with alcoholism and poor choices. They didn’t even come to our small wedding.
Even with my middle-class suburban upbringing, the Fournier family dynamic is so much more unified than mine. With my dad dying and my mom remarrying, we were never a fully unified family, but there was a lot of love for sure.
Still, not like what I see around the dinner table this evening. Laurence Fournier often puts his arm around his wife’s chair, stroking her shoulder as we talk. Marilyn gazes upon her children—Malik and Simone—with unfettered pride and love. Both of the Fournier parents clearly adore their new son-in-law, Van, bantering easily with him. When the conversation merits it, I’m drawn in, too, with lots of laughter and mirth.
“How’s work going?” Laurence finally asks Malik after we’re well into our main courses.
“Good,” Malik replies, shooting a wary look at his mom before saying, “I hope to get back to fieldwork soon.”
My gaze moves to Marilyn, who I note appears unhappy for the first time. Her face pinches with anxiety. As if Laurence was expecting it, he reaches over and takes her hand to give it a squeeze.