Green Tea Latte To Go

by Ellis, Aven

  I know I’m glowing right now.

  “Me, too. I really like him, Sylvia,” I say happily. I pick up my fork and take a bite of banoffee pie. Oh, man. Where has this food been all my life? It’s fantastic!

  “Oh, I know you do, darling,” Sylvia says. Then I see concern in her light blue eyes. “I just hope Brooks can put the past aside long enough to see his future.”

  My delight in banoffee pie drops straight into my stomach with a thud.

  “What?” I ask, setting my fork down. “What do you mean?”

  “Brooks was very hurt by Isla,” Sylvia says, wrapping her delicate hands around her “Powered by Seahawks and Coffee” mug. “And it will take someone very special to get him to truly put the past behind. I want that more than anything for him.”

  Hurt like I’ve never known fills me. While I’ve fallen in love with him and see breakfasts under the crazy wallpaper in my future, Brooks might never be able to get there.

  “Sorry about that,” Brooks says, grinning as he walks into the room. “Mum demands FaceTime with you, by the way,” he says, looking at me.

  I force a smile on my face, but inside my heart is squeezing hard against my ribs.

  “Sunshine, what did you think of the pie?” he asks as he pops another cup into the coffee machine. “Is the pudding acceptable?”

  It will take someone very special to get him to truly put the past behind, echoes in my head.

  And my heart.

  While it might not matter that coffee is served in a Seahawks mug, being the best I can be does matter. I need to be special enough for Brooks to want a future with me.

  I need to be perfect, I think with anguish.

  “Payton?”

  I blink. I find Brooks waiting for my answer.

  “It’s perfect,” I say, not thinking of pie, but of what I have to be if I’m to win the heart of the man I love.

  And I have to be.

  Because now that Brooks has entered my life, I never want him to leave it.

  CHAPTER 25

  Today’s plan to improve myself item (cont.): I will learn to focus on what I can control and let go of things I can’t.

  Result: Whoever wrote this didn’t have my family to contend with.

  ***

  “You’re quiet,” Brooks says, interrupting my thoughts.

  I snap out of my thoughts. We’re headed over to Kirkland, to my parents’ house, for drinks. The rain is falling now, and Brooks’ windshield wipers work rhythmically to wipe the water away.

  “Oh, just thinking,” I say truthfully, gazing at his handsome profile.

  Thinking about how I never want to lose you.

  Brooks clears his throat. “Was it too soon meeting Sylvia?” he asks softly.

  “What?” I ask, confused. “No, of course not. Why do you say that?”

  “You’ve been quiet ever since we’ve had pudding,” Brooks says, furrowing his brow. “Not even jokes about pie being pudding. I was wondering if . . . I overwhelmed you with everything.”

  Panic fills me. He’s misreading my silence and putting it on himself.

  Just like he did with Isla.

  Will he ever be free of her ghost? My head whispers. Maybe it’s not the past he can’t let go of, but her?

  I mentally slam the door shut on that thought. No. I know there’s no ghost, not after what we shared last night.

  “No, not at all,” I say truthfully. “I’m so full I feel sleepy.”

  Which is not a lie.

  On the full part.

  I reach for his free hand and wrap mine over his. “And we had pie for pudding which is absolutely ridiculous because it’s pie not pudding. And it was the best pie not pudding that I’ve ever had in my life,” I say, deciding to move forward in my head and focus on the man next to me.

  Brooks laughs loudly. “You’re just saying that.”

  “No, I truly mean that pie for pudding is ridiculous,” I say.

  I see the lightness return to his gorgeous face, and I know I need to focus on us.

  On being the person I need to be to win his heart.

  “Sylvia liked you, you know,” Brooks says, squeezing my hand.

  “I liked her, too,” I say softly.

  “I hope your parents like me as much.”

  “Brooks,” I say firmly, “they will love you.”

  I direct him to my parents’ house, a charming little home in the North Rose Hill neighborhood. It’s nestled at the end of a quiet street, next to a trailed ravine. Freshly planted flowers line the area between the driveway and the sidewalk, ones that weren’t there on my last visit, and I know Mom must have had the landscapers come out prior to Brooks’ arrival.

  “You grew up here?” Brooks asks, pulling into the driveway next to Tanner’s Mercedes G-Wagon.

  I nod. “I’ve only lived four places my whole life. This house, my dorm room at UW, an apartment near UW, and now Ballard.”

  Brooks turns his engine off. “And I’ve lived in four places my whole life. Cornwall. London. Spokane, when I first moved to America, then Seattle. Once again, we match, don’t we?”

  “We do,” I say, meaning it with my whole heart.

  “Wait, technically I spent summers in Durango as a child so I guess that’s five. We don’t match,” he teases. “Will you grant me a waiver so we do match? Summers don’t count?”

  “They don’t,” I say, smiling.

  We get out of the car, and I can tell Brooks has truly adopted Seattle living because he doesn’t grab an umbrella to shield against the rain. He reaches for a bottle of wine he brought in the backseat, and we head up the walk to my parents’ house.

  I ring the doorbell and squeeze Brooks’ hand reassuringly in mine. I study him—and he does appear nervous.

  Which means I’m important. If I weren't important, he wouldn’t put himself through this. Or have me meet Sylvia.

  With a jolt I realize Sylvia is wrong. Brooks is moving forward. These actions prove it.

  And he’s moving forward with me, as I am.

  Relief sweeps over me. It’s going to be fine.

  More than fine.

  It’s going to be love.

  The dogs are barking on the other side, signaling the intruders are here. The door unlocks on the other side, and my mom opens the door.

  “Hello!” she says excitedly, unhooking the screen door. “We’re so excited you’re here!”

  We step inside the foyer, with both Grover and Penny Pie eager to greet us.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. James,” Brooks says. But before he can say anything else, the dogs are begging for his attention.

  “You must meet my babies first,” Mom declares. “Grover is the Beagle, and Penny Pie is the Corgi.”

  Brooks grins, as I know he’s happy to greet the dogs, and bends down and extends his hand for them to sniff. Of course they become best friends with him immediately.

  “Penny Pie is my ginger girl,” Mom says happily. “Shines like a penny!”

  “Aren’t you a beautiful girl?” Brooks says.

  I glance at Mom. She loves when people compliment her dogs.

  “And you’re a handsome fellow,” Brooks says, shifting his attention to Grover. Then he glances at me. “Are you sure you didn’t insist on one Corgi because Her Majesty has them?”

  I laugh. “No, Mom is the Corgi lover.”

  He quickly stands back up, and I’m about to officially introduce him when Mom puts her hand out to stop us.

  “Oh, sorry to be a pain, but would you wear booties over your shoes? I just had the floors buffed and I don’t want them to get dirty.”

  Oh, my God.

  She asked Brooks—who has just met her—to wear shoe booties.

  “Mom!” I gasp, mortified. “Brooks doesn’t have to do that!”

  “No, I have these footie things he can put over his shoes to protect the floor,” she says. Mom breezes over to a basket next to the entry hall table and retrieves two surgical boot
ies. “Sophie got me some from the lab, and since I had the new floors put in last month, I make people wear them. It keeps everything tip top clean!”

  She is not. She is not going to make him wear surgical booties over his shoes.

  “They’re like the ones I use for surgery,” Brooks says, smiling easily at her.

  Mom beams at him. Then she turns to me. “Would you like to introduce us properly, Sweetie?”

  “Mom, this is Brooks Martin,” I say politely, trying to fight the embarrassment that threatens to overwhelm me. “Brooks, this is my mom, Stephanie James.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. James,” Brooks says. “This is for you.”

  Brooks presents my mom with a bottle of Washington State chardonnay.

  “Oh, Brooks, aren’t you thoughtful?” she says, her blue eyes lighting up in approval. “Everyone, we have a delightful wine for our nightcap, isn’t that wonderful?”

  Brooks shifts his gaze to the open living room, the one that was replicated from a furniture catalog, and I become aware of the music floating in the background. It’s Mom’s cocktail party music. In fact, I think it’s actually called Cocktails at Night or something like that.

  And in this scene from a catalog, everyone is staring at us, waiting for us to come in.

  “If you’ll slip on your booties, I’ll introduce you to everyone,” Mom says, nodding at him.

  I glance at the crowd in the living room. Sure enough, everyone either has their shoes off, or in Dad’s case, booties over shoes.

  “You could simply take your shoes off, of course,” Mom says. “I made your father wear booties though because his feet smell when he’s wearing socks. Which as a family we will put up with, of course, but not for important guests. And since you are the first man Payton has ever brought home, that won’t do!”

  Gah! I can’t count how many ways that sentence has mortified me. I can’t.

  “Booties are fine, I wear them all the time,” Brooks says easily, going along with it.

  Mom smiles brightly and hands him the booties, which he slips over his shoes. I grudgingly take off my Tory Burch flip flops and wedge them underneath the hall table.

  I then lead Brooks into the living room, where Sophie is sitting on the floor with Connor, playing with a toy truck, and Dad and Tanner are sitting on the couch.

  “Everyone, this is Brooks Martin,” I say. “Brooks, this is my father, Mike.”

  My dad rises and Brooks walks over to him, extending a hand.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” he says formally.

  “Likewise,” Dad says, smiling at him. “And this is a surprise. Usually it was Sophie bringing the boys home. We wondered if Payton was even interested in boys outside of the ones from the Royal Family.”

  My parents are single-handedly going to doom my relationship.

  “Well, I guess being British, I’ll do,” Brooks says, once again rolling with it.

  Dad laughs, and I continue to die of embarrassment.

  Tanner stands up next. “I’m Tanner, Payton’s brother-in-law.”

  Relief fills me for a brief moment. Tanner never says much anyway so zero chance he can embarrass me in front of Brooks.

  “I’m Sophie, Payton’s sister,” Sophie says, rising to greet Brooks.

  Brooks extends his hand to her. “Brooks, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “And this is Connor,” she says, smiling down at her son.

  Connor is already crawling toward me. “Ejeebs.”

  I bend down and scoop him up, and he gleefully squeals in response.

  “Aunt Payton missed you,” I say, affectionately kissing his head. Oh, I love the way he smells like lavender baby lotion.

  “Mmlad,” he says, patting my cheek.

  “Would you like something to drink, Brooks? Beer? Wine? Water?” Mom asks Brooks.

  “A bottle of water would be great,” Brooks says. “Thank you.”

  “Please, have a seat,” my mother says, going over to the floral chair and patting the throw pillow in it. “Get comfy, Brooks. Once you have a water, we’ll grill you.”

  My stomach lurches. Brooks laughs gamely, but I know she will. Mom turns to me. “Payton, you know where the bottled water is. Can you please get one for Brooks?”

  Mom then takes the seat in the chair next to him, and I have a feeling that in mere moments she’s going to go all TV newswoman interviewing him. I wouldn’t be surprised if she whipped out her laptop and pulled up all the pertinent questions she needs to ask him.

  I swear if I weren’t carrying Connor I’d have run to get the water, for fear of leaving Brooks alone with her for even a single second.

  “Okay,” I say, praying she starts off with normal questions.

  “So you’re in veterinary medicine?” I hear Sophie ask as I step into the open kitchen.

  “Yes,” Brooks says. “I practice exotic medicine.”

  “Like zoo animals?” Mom asks.

  “Actually, exotics like pet pigs, rabbits, reptiles, guinea pigs, ferrets, rats. Those are just some of them, but these animals fall under the exotic umbrella.”

  “But can you treat dogs?” Dad asks.

  I come back into the living room and hand Brooks the water, which he quickly takes.

  “Thank you,” he says, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig. “Yes, sir, I can.”

  “Oh, please, call me Mike,” Dad says easily.

  “Thank you,” Brooks says. “But yes, I can.”

  I sit down on the floor next to Brooks’ chair with Connor in my lap. I pick up one of his toy dump trucks and hand it to him, and the dogs circle around us, which makes Connor laugh.

  “Ba ba ba ba,” he repeats, handing me the truck.

  Sophie takes a seat next to Tanner on the sofa, happy to let me entertain Connor.

  “Oh, could you please look at Penny Pie for me?” Mom asks. “She’s been dragging her butt across the hardwood floor and I think her glands need to be expressed.”

  I drop the toy truck in horror.

  “Mom!” I gasp. “Brooks is here as a guest, not a vet!”

  “Oh, Brooks won’t mind,” Mom says, speaking on his behalf.

  “People ask me medication questions all the time, and I don’t care,” Sophie says in her superior way.

  “I really don’t mind,” Brooks insists. “It’s easy to do. Do you have Vaseline?”

  Mom nods. “What else do you need?”

  “Mom, seriously, he’s been here fewer than five minutes,” I protest, mortified that before my mom asks him a single thing about himself, she’s putting him to work.

  Expressing anal glands.

  “No problem,” Brooks says, standing up. “If you could get me a towel and Vaseline, I’ll go grab some latex gloves out of my car. I’ll have Penny Pie good to go in no time. Excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

  Brooks heads toward the door, pausing to slip off his booties, and as soon as he’s outside I turn on my family.

  “Really? Booties and anal glands? I can’t believe you,” I cry. “Are you trying to get him to dump me?”

  “Payton, don’t overdramatize things,” Mom declares. “Now I’m going to get the stuff ready for Penny Pie.”

  She leaves and heads down the hall, and Sophie shifts her attention to me.

  “How can you dump someone when you’ve only dated them like a week?” Sophie says, furrowing her brow. “It’s not like you’re in a real relationship.”

  I wish I could tell her to shut up. My feelings are mine. That my heart isn’t following a guidebook when it comes to Brooks.

  I know what I feel, I think angrily. And I know it’s love.

  “I mean, look at me and Tanner,” she continues, barreling on with her unasked for opinion. “It takes time to find real love, doesn’t it, Sweetheart?”

  “Absolutely,” Tanner concurs. “Nobody is in a relationship after a week.”

  I’m about to respond when the door opens again, and Brooks walks i
n, holding gloves in his hand. He dutifully slips his booties back over his shoes.

  Penny Pie greets him at the door, and Brooks grins wickedly at her.

  “Ah, you know you’re my patient, don’t you?” he says cheerfully.

  “Brooks, I’m down the hall,” Mom yells out.

  Brooks scoops up Penny Pie with one hand. “I’ll return,” he says, grinning.

  I forget Sophie’s remarks and smile back at him. He’s such a good man. To roll with this craziness right off the bat, to not let it throw him off, is simply one more thing for me to love about him.

  Soon they all return, with Penny Pie wagging her tail happily and my mom seeming absolutely delighted.

  “Brooks is amazing! He solved her problem in seconds,” Mom says excitedly.

  “No, really, that’s very easy,” Brooks says, walking across the room. “You could do it yourself, Mrs. James.”

  Haaaaaaaaaa. Mom looks completely grossed out by the thought.

  “Um, or I could bring her to see you, right?” Mom says hopefully. “And please, call me Stephanie.”

  Brooks smiles. “Absolutely. I’ll even make a house call whenever you need it.”

  “Well, I’m going to go ahead and get some coffee on,” Mom says, walking into the kitchen.

  “Fantastic,” Brooks says. Then he clears his throat. “So Sophie, I understand you do pharmaceutical research. That has to be fascinating.”

  Sophie’s eyes light up. She loves talking about her job.

  “Yes, I do. Right now I’m working on a trial for a new kidney medication.”

  “What phase are you in?” Brooks asks.

  Connor motors over to Brooks and begins to climb his leg, which normally would melt my heart to no end, but right now I’m trying to follow his conversation with Sophie.

  Sophie appears impressed that Brooks can speak her language. “The beginning of Stage II,” she says. “We have just assembled our first trial group and are in the process of assigning dosages. But I feel so optimistic about this outcome. We had a very good outcome in Phase I with tolerability.”

  “Gaba mum oy,” Connor declares, pulling himself to stand at Brooks’ leg.

  “Hey, little man, aren’t you strong?” Brooks says affectionately, smiling at him.