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“One and the same. And that’s her real name, not a nickname. Cookie Christiansen.”

Nodding, I try to understand why that would be someone’s first name. “It’s unique and unforgettable and absolutely adorable. I imagine it suits her. It does in my head, at least.”

“It does.” At the top of the steps, he takes a deep breath. Suddenly, I’m bracing myself for the worst. What are we walking into exactly? Because really, how bad can a Cookie be?

26

Nick

It’s a big step—meetingthe parents, but this is nothing compared to getting married, so I think we’ll be all right. This seems like the right order to do things though I’m not stuck on old-fashioned traditions.

Thinking back to yesterday, did I ask her to be my wife on a whim, or in reaction to the news that I’m the Christiansen they’re planning on shipping all over the world to represent them?

I have no idea but putting down roots with Natalie is more than appealing. I meant what I said to her. I love her. More than I should at this stage in the relationship? Hell no. I loved her the moment she fell into my arms. Being bonded to Natalie legally and otherwise is my best idea yet, making her my wife, a dream I never knew I had until I met her.

And she didn’t even have to give me cookies.

I can see now that we’re at a great place in life and in business. I’ll help her grow that company so big that other people will be begging her for loans.

We quietly walk inside, as if we’re intruders in my childhood home. Her mouth is open as she looks up at the high ceilings and chandelier. For a California woman, Cookie has a soft spot for opulence in specific places—entryways and grand terraces that lead to a sunny and approachable garden. Go figure.

Before we enter the main living room, I whisper, “Forget about the crystal and marble. My mom is down to earth and she’s going to love you.”

I lead her through the living room, spying my mom at her favorite place—a barstool parked at the island near the sink. Not wanting to startle her, I say, “Hi, Mom.”

She looks up from her laptop and then hops off the stool, planting her red reading glasses into her blond hair. “You’re early?”

Not sure what she’s asking, but I answer, “You know traffic is unpredictable.”

Natalie’s free hand clamps around our adjoined hands, her nervousness felt by how tight she’s gripping me. “Mom, this is Natalie St. James.” I add, “Natalie, this is my mom, Cookie Christiansen.”

My mom’s eyes light up as she comes around the island. Opening her arms wide, my mom grins like she’s seeing her long-lost daughter. She always wanted a girl to bond with. “It’s so nice to meet you, Natalie.”

“You, too. I’ve heard so many great things about you and Nick’s dad.”

Natalie releases me, and they embrace like two friends who haven’t seen each other in ages, hugging each other with genuine emotion attached. Seeing them has me feeling even more sure about our decision to move forward and get married.

When they step apart, I swear to God my mom has tears in her eyes. She comes to me, and I hug her, whispering, “It’s okay.” My mom has to be the most sentimental person I’ve ever met.

Until I see Natalie with watery eyes as well.

When we part, she takes Natalie by the wrist, and they walk together to the other side of the island. Dropping her glasses to the bridge of her nose, my mom then poises her fingers over the laptop keyboard. “When’s your birthday?”

Oh, no.I’m about to rush over to save Natalie from an astrological reading, but my dad says, “I thought I heard you come in, Nick. Come join me—oh. This must be your girlfriend.” He forgets about me and makes a beeline for Natalie.

I remember doing the same when I saw her the first time. “This is Natalie, Dad.”

“Hi,” she says with a little wave. “I’m Natalie St. James.”

My dad’s gaze skips from her to me just before they shake hands. “St. James? That’s interesting.”

Instead of having a repeat of this conversation I had with Andrew, I try to end it fast. “It’s a common name in New York,” I reply, brushing off the coincidence.

Natalie says, “Not that common,” as if I’ve offended her.

Great, now I’ve pissed her off.Introducing the love of your life to your parents is tricky business. “I meant that Andrew and I had a good laugh that there’s a St. James Place in Monopoly, so we figured it must be a well-known name. Not that it’s common or you’re not original. You’re very special?—”

“Oh goodness,” my mom says, cringing. “I think she gets it. It’s probably best if you just end it there.”