Oh no. They let him in and Mark has headed straight to my room. He was supposed to call me so I


    coulde down when he got here. If he tries to kiss me, I’m going to have to tell him how I really feel


    before we even get to the restaurant. I tentatively open the door and he smiles warmly.


    “Hello, Emerson.” He seems nervous.


    My stomach drops with guilt. “Hello.” I smile and quickly pick up my coat and bag, hoping we can go


    immediately.


    “I have bad news.”


    “You do?” Oh, please tell me you don’t like me and save me the job of telling you.


    “My parents are here.”


    “Huh?” I frown.


    “They are in the car downstairs.”


    “What?” I frown. Is this a set up? I’m breaking up our impending rtionship with you tonight, stupid.


    I don’t want your parents to see it.


    “They  called  and  are  going  home  early  tomorrow  and  asked  if  we  could  do  dinner.  I  thought  it


    wouldn’t hurt for them toe and meet you.”


    “Huh.” I fake a smile. This is getting worse, now I’m meeting the parents and breaking up on the same


    night. “Great.” I push out. “Can’t wait.”


    We get to the car and his father is sitting in the front, so Mark opens the back door for me to climb in


    the back next to his mother. “Hello.” I smile awkwardly as I fall into the seat.


    “Oh, hello, Emerson.” His mother smiles warmly. “My name is Eleanor”


    I can’t help but smile. She is argedy wearing a floral daggy dress with stockings. “Hello.”


    I  smile  nervously.  She  gestures  to  the  front  seat.  “This  is  my  husband  Albert,  but  please,  call  him


    Bert.”


    “Hello, Emerson.” His father turns in his seat to shake my hand. Oh no, his parents are sweet country


    people.


    Why am I such a frigging bitch?


    His mother grabs my hand and holds it in hers. “We have heard all about you, dear, I just couldn’t go


    home without meeting you.”


    I fake a smile.


    “Mother.” Mark shakes his head in the rearview mirror at her. “Don’t scare her off.”


    My eyes turn to look out of the window. Holy hell. This is the world’s biggest cock up. Why don’t you


    like Stephanie, you dip shit?


    We arrive at the restaurant and go in. “Booking for White.”


    “Yes.” The waiter scribbles on his booking pad. “Right this way, please.”


    We follow him as I look around the space. The restaurant is huge with three split-levels. A bar sits on


    the top tier, and then there are seven steps down to the next level, and around the same drop down to the


    bottom floor. We are seated in front of the huge arch windows in the middle level. Mark pulls my seat out


    for me and I take my ce. I need a damn drink and I need it quick.


    Eleanor is the first to speak. “So, you are an Australian.”


    “Yes.” I smile bashfully. “Where are you from?” I ask.


    “Originally from here, but we now live in Scond.”


    “Oh.” I smile. “I’ve never been. It’s supposed to be beautiful.”


    “It is. It really is.”


    The waitresses and takes the drink orders.


    “This is your first time over here, isn’t it, Emerson?” Mark asks.


    “Yes.”


    “You should go to Irnd, too,” Bert announces. “Beautiful ce, You should take her there, Mark.” I


    fake a smile and wish the ground would swallow me up. I do want to go to Irnd but I want someone


    else to take me to meet his parents.


    Jeez, as if that’s ever going to happen. Stop dreaming, fool!


    We  order  our  meals  and  I  find  myself  drinking  way  too  fast,  but  honestly,  this  situation  is  a  totalText property ? N?vel(D)ra/ma.Org.


    nightmare. Mark’s parents are so nice and Mark is trying so hard. I’m not being fair at all.


    Eleanor pulls out her phone and starts to go through it, showing me photos of her grandchildren from


    Mark’s sisters. I sit and smile as she proudly shows them off. She is a lovely woman.


    “And this child here…” She points to the screen. “Just like my Mark when he was a boy. So athletic.”


    My eyes flicker up to Mark and he gently takes my hand under the table, holding it in myp as he


    looks at me.


    Shit. What now? I don’t want to hold your hand. The waitress fills my ss again and I stare up at her,


    hoping she can read my mind. I need something strong, bitch. Not fucking wine. I start to sweat. I need to


    pay someone in that kitchen to give me salmone poisoning right now-anything to get me the hell out of


    here. Hospital would be a much better option.


    “And this child here…” His mother goes on, but I have stopped listening to the family resemnce


    that seems to be going on forever.


    Our meals arrive and Mark, once again, fills my wine ss, weing my inebriation.


    “Thank you.” I smile. He grabs my hand affectionately under the table and smiles adoringly at me. I


    frown at him and gently shake my head. I don’t want you to hold my hand, and if your parents weren’t


    here, I would pull away. Please read my mind.


    The waiter arrives with a tray of drinks. “You must have the wrong table?” Mark frowns. “Our drinks


    are already here.”