“Oh, you know, working.” I shrug then cringe, willing myself to tell him about Wes.

“You need to take a break every once in awhile and come visit your old man.”

“Sorry,” I tell him, and he kisses my head again.

“Hey, honey.” My mom smiles then looks around, and I jerk my head side-to-side before she asks exactly what I know she’s going to.

“You didn’t bring a date?” she asks, and I take a breath and shake my head.

“You’re not dating, are you?” my dad asks.

“Do you need any help inside, Mom?” I ask ignoring my dad’s question. Not giving her a chance to answer, I take her elbow and lead her past the pool and into the house.

“Honey,” she laughs, looking at my dad, who is still in front of the grill, but his body is turned toward the house, “are you still seeing that nice guy Wes?”

“Mom, really?” I ask, going into the kitchen and pulling out platters from the fridge.

“What? I thought you would bring him, or that he would insist on coming today.”

“He wanted to, but I asked him to let me tell Dad about him first.”

“You didn’t tell your father about him, and right now, when you had the perfect opportunity to tell him, you pulled me away.”

“I know.” I cover my face in frustration.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, and I feel her hand on my back and uncover my face to look at her.

“I’m worried Dad won’t like him,” I whisper, and her face goes soft.

“Honey, what happens if he doesn’t like him?” she asks, searching my face.

“I don’t know,” I say, feeling my chest constrict.

“When I started dating your father, Grandpa was not exactly happy about it, but I knew your dad made me feel things I didn’t even think were possible, and I also knew my dad loved me enough to know I knew what I was doing.”

“I want Dad to like him,” I whisper.

“Then you need to give him a chance to get to know him.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready, if our relationship is ready.”

“My beautiful girl is falling in love,” she whispers, and I close my eyes, not wanting her to see how true that statement is. I’m falling in love with a guy I barely know.

“I think I just need a little more time,” I tell her, finally opening my eyes.

“Just don’t wait too long, honey.”

“Promise I won’t,” I say as my insides twist.

“He’s hot.” She smiles after a moment.

“What?!” I shriek, looking at her.

“He is, and that kiss he gave you when he walked into you house. “Very nice.”

“Shut up.”

“What? I’m old, but I’m not dead.” She smiles.

“You better not let Dad hear you say that,” I warn, and the smile slides off her face.

“Watch it, young lady,” she says, and I wrap my arms around her waist.

“Love you, Mom.”

“Love you too, honey.” She kisses my hair. “Now,” she pulls away, leaving her hands on my shoulders, “let’s get this stuff done, and get outside and enjoy your dad’s birthday.”

“Right,” I agree, pulling the rest of the platters out of the fridge and heading back outside.

“Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad!” I yell out my car window to my parents, who are standing on the front porch with their arms wrapped around each other.

“Bye, honey,” my mom calls back as my dad lifts his chin as I back out.

After dinner, we FaceTimed my sisters while we sang him happy birthday before cutting his cake. I missed my sisters, but with all of them going to college out of state, it was hard for all of us to get together like we used to when we were all home. The good thing is over the next few years, all of my sisters will be moving back to town one-by-one as they finish college. I pull out onto the main road and press send on Wes’ number when it pulls up on my call log.

“Hey, babe,” he answers, and I hear music in the background then moving.

“Hey,” I say when his side goes quiet.

“You on your way?”

“Yeah.” I smile.

“Good, I miss you,” he says, lowering his tone—not like he’s trying to hide what he’s saying, but like he is really happy I will be there soon.

“Me too.” I smile again, turning onto another road.

“How did things go with your dad?”

Shit. I don’t want to lie, but I don’t want to tell him I never even mentioned him to my dad, and that I actually tackled Jax to the ground when he was going to say something about Wes to his dad.

“He had a great birthday,” I say, playing dumb while hoping he doesn’t ask anything else—at least, not yet, not until I’ve spoken to my dad, which I will do soon. Okay, maybe not soon, but sooner, rather than later. “I’m going to stop by my house and change really quick, and then I will be there.”

“Why do you need to change?”

“’Cause I wore a dress to the party.”

“Come straight here,” he growls, and the space between my legs tingles.

“Wes—”

“Come straight here, July,” he demands, causing the tingle to become a shiver of excitement.

“I’ll see you soon,” I say, and the phone goes dead. I drop it into my lap and attempt to focus on driving, not on the ache that the tone of his voice caused.