CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

Minimalist Matt has very few pieces to move in, with Bea and I not far behind. Angelo keeps some of his furniture at his old house for Layla, and Jarel decides it’s easier to buy a new bedroom set than to haul most of his furniture from the condo.

Still, there’s plenty of excess, and Bea’s agreed to sell it, contributing more funds to the household.

Jarel buys matching satin sheets for his Russian violet bedroom, and his room has an entirely different energy. It’s simultaneously cool and inviting as well as dark and ominous. The guys assume he wanted the soundproof room because he snores; if they’ve picked up on anything else, they don’t mention it.

One day while everyone else is out, Jarel and I scream and clap to listen for what can be heard in the other rooms.

Nothing.

“Oh, baby,” Jarel says, standing behind me and wrapping his arms around my chest, “the fun that we’ll have in here…”

I shiver with anticipation.

Although I’ve spent several days with Julie and seen Tracey a couple of times, I’ve never met Matt’s parents, and the roof conversation has me thinking about everyone’s families.

“I want to meet them,” I tell Matt one afternoon while we’re taping boxes.

“You know my family is drama,” he says. “And my parents are… good with Julie, and better than they used to be, but they’re not particularly warm or accepting people. You sure you want to be part of that?”

“They’ll have grandkids in the near future, right? I can’t be pregnant with your kid and never have met your parents.”

“I guess that’s true… All right, we’ll go for lunch on Saturday. Less pressure than dinner, and we can leave easily.”

“Matt, c’mon. It can’t be that bad.”

“You’ve gotten used to Angelo’s family,” he retorts. “Mine is… different.”

***

Matt’s parents aren’t much older than Ms. Imani, but their house is apparently stuck in the sixties.

“Good,” his mother greets us. “You made it. You can set the table.”

That’s it. That’s her salutation when meeting me for the first time.

“Is that Matt and Valorie?” his dad calls from the living room.

“Valentina,” Matt corrects.

“But you can call me Val.”

Tracey and Julie join us, and the six of us sit at the dining room table for what I hope will be a pleasant meal.

“How’s the summer enrichment program going, Julie?” Matt asks.

Got it. The kid’s the buffer.

“Perfect scores,” she says. “Everything’s great except–” She cuts herself off. “Never mind.”

“What’s going on, kiddo?” Matt asks.

“There’s this girl, Brittany. She’s a bully.”

“Is she bullying you?” Mr. Polinsky asks.

Julie shrugs. “Kinda.”

The adults ask questions, and Julie slowly reveals that this girl has been harassing her, and the teasing sounds relentless and escalating.

“Well, that settles it,” Mr. Polinsky says. “First thing Monday, I’m going to talk to the program’s director. No one is going to bully my angel.”

“Maybe we should let Julie fight her own battles,” Tracey suggests. “Teach her how to stand up for herself.”

“Did we let you fight your own battles?” her dad asks.

“You let Matt fight his.”

Mrs. Polinsky scoffs. “Yeah, and look how well that turned out.”

Silence.

Finally, Mr. Polinsky says, “Julie, I’ll take care of it, and if that girl bothers you again, you tell me, understand?”

Julie nods, but she’s looking at her peas.

“Matt, you’re still unemployed for a few more weeks,” Mrs. Polinsky says. “Doing anything productive?”

Unemployed? Is she fucking serious?

“Yeah,” Mr. Polinsky says, gesturing at Matt with his fork. “What’s new with you?”

“Well,” Matt says, taking my hand, “Val and I just bought a house together.”

“Wow, that’s great, son,” Mr. Polinsky says.

“Where?” Mrs. Polinsky asks. “What neighborhood?”

“Marigold View,” I say.

She leans back. “On the salaries of a teacher and dog groomer? There’s no way. Was it dilapidated or something?”

“No,” Matt says. “It’s in good shape. We’ll be completely moved in before I return to school.”

“Well, good for you,” Mr. Polinsky says.

“And just how are you paying for that?” Mrs. Polinsky asks. “We can’t afford to bail you out of a terrible financial decision.”

Now I understand where Matt gets his financial trepidation from.

“We have a couple of housemates,” Matt says evenly.

“My best friend moved in with us for now,” I add.

“Uh huh,” Mrs. Polinsky says. “Well, if those supposed ‘housemates’ leave you high and dry, don’t come to us for a bailout. We already got our hands full.” She points her fork at Tracey.

“It’ll be fine, Mom,” Matt says.

“It better be.”

Anger bubbles in my gut, but I don’t want to embarrass Matt or cause a riff with Julie. I take a few deep breaths and convince myself that I can power through lunch.

“Think you’ll eventually go to college, Valentina?” Mr. Polinsky asks, and he sounds genuinely interested.

“Actually, I already have a degree.”

“So, you’re making the deliberate choice to be a dog groomer?” Mrs. Polinsky asks snidely.

“I’m all for doing what makes you happy,” Mr. Polinsky says.

“I enjoy the work,” I say, looking at him instead of his wife. “I like helping dogs get adopted. Owning a pet has a lot of health benefits, and I like to think I’m making people’s lives better, just indirectly.”

“What a way to spin a dead-end job,” Mrs. Polinsky says.

“That’s enough!” Matt says sternly. He turns to me and softens his voice. “This is why I didn’t want to do this with you. Let’s go, honey.”

We both stand up, and Matt looks at his mother. “For the record, Val is an incredibly kind, loving, patient woman who makes me deliriously happy, and I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else.”

Mrs. Polinsky’s jaw drops.

“And Matt is a hero,” I say. “He literally saved my life and the lives of people we care about. He’s generous, attentive, and passionate, and he doesn’t deserve to be treated as anything less than the amazing person he is.”

I toss my napkin on the table. “Thank you for lunch. I wish the conversation could have been as good as the food.” I wave at Julie and Tracey. “Bye, guys.”

Mr. Polinsky stands up. “Matt, wait. Your mother was just–”

“Not today, Dad,” Matt says.

He kisses Julie on top of the head and squeezes Tracey’s shoulder. “I’ll see you two on Thursday.”

He takes my hand, and I shoot Mrs. Polinsky one more dirty look before we leave.

We walk toward the main road to catch a cab, and two blocks into our trek, I start laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

My laughter is contagious and he grins at me. “See? That’s why I didn’t want to do dinner.”

“Your mother is a piece of work, Matt!”

“She’s actually mellowed since Julie was born. She just doesn’t like me.”

I stop laughing. “Are you serious?”

“She’s been like that ever since I got expelled. I was the star student, and she thought I’d end up with a lucrative job after graduating from an Ivy League school. I think she’s still pissed that it didn’t turn out the way she wanted.”

“But you’re an incredible teacher, and you love your job.”

“She doesn’t care about that,” he says. “Listen, Val, don’t worry about it. Believe it or not, it’s slowly getting better. I know it’s important to you to connect with my family, so when the relationship is a little more repaired, we’ll try again. Until then, let’s just focus on our time with Julie and Tracey.”

“I’m sorry I pushed you to bring me.”

“Don’t be. Maybe it’s good that you saw the reality of the situation.”

When we come to a park, he leads me off the road and to a large, secluded oak tree. He backs me against the trunk and kisses me.

“Thank you for defending me,” I say, placing my hands against his chest. “I really appreciate that.”

“You did the same for me,” he says between kisses. “No one I’ve ever dated has stood up for me like that–to anyone.”

“You deserve it.”

“You know I love to watch you wield your power like that,” he whispers, as he leaves a trail of kisses down my neck.

I play with his hair. “You think that was powerful?”

“Fiercely standing up for your significant other against people trying to intimidate you? What could be more powerful than that?” he asks against the crook of my neck. “Or more intimate?”

Damn.

His fingers trail down my blouse, hips, and leg. I shiver when I feel his hand caress my inner thigh.

“Matt,” I whisper, “what are you doing?”

His fingers slip under my skirt. “Showing you my appreciation.” He pulls my tanga panties to the side and places his fingers against me. “And apparently you're ready to receive my gratitude.”

I moan against his lips, and when his finger slips inside of me, my breath catches. “Matt–”

He kisses me to quiet me. “You really think I’m attentive?” he whispers.

My pulse quickens, and my mouth feels dry. “Yes.”

He slowly removes his finger then begins making small circles around my clit. “And generous?”

I’m barely able to speak as his motions steadily quicken. “Yes.”

He uses his other hand to interlock his fingers with mine and hold my hand against the tree’s bark.

My breathing is rapid, and my back involuntarily arches.

“And what was your other word?” he teases.

“Passionate.”

“That’s right.”

His circles are fast. Steady. Perfect.

The energy builds until I can no longer fight it.

“Matt–”

He kisses me hard, and I moan into his mouth. My knees almost buckle, but he holds me firmly in place.

His motions gradually slow, and by the end, even the lightest touch makes me spasm.

He repositions my panties and smooths out my skirt. “Thank you for being on my side, Valentina.”

I kiss him, nipping his bottom lip as I pull away. “Thanks for being on mine.”

He takes my hand and leads me back to the road. “I’ve never done anything like that.”

“Gotten turned on by someone defending you?” I quip.

“Done something sexual in a public place.”

“We were pretty isolated, Matt. It’s not like we were in the middle of the dog park or something.”

He raises his eyebrows. “The dog park?”

“First place I thought of… Maybe you’re secretly an exhibitionist.”

“Ha! Doubtful.”

“Then maybe I just turn you on so much that you have to immediately have me.”

“Mmm. That sounds more likely.”

“Seriously, Matt, I’m really honored by the fact that you trust me enough to be open with me. I know that’s not the easiest thing for you.”

“You make it easy, Val,” he says, brushing my hand with his thumb. “I’ve never felt as safe as I do when I’m with you.”

Damn.

But will he still feel that way when he’s sharing me in our new home?