Page 38 of Tracing Holland (The Hold Me NSB #2)

Suddenly, the younger woman pulls back and stares at us in horror. “Oh crap…I was kidding about the music! She didn’t steal it! I mean, she did, but I’m sure she paid for it later…like, with a donation or something…I…don’t be mad at her!”

I just laugh and shake my head. “It’s all good,” I assure her, before braving a glance back at Holland’s parents who are still studying us in silence. I can’t read their expressions but her mother doesn’t seem happy.

“Holland, I really wish you had told us.”

Holland looks away, and my heart sinks. “I know, mom. I knew it would be a shock. I just wanted to be able to talk about it in person. It’s good. It’s really good, and I wanted you to see for yourself. I knew if you met him…”

Her mother places her hands on her hips and shakes her head. “Well, that may be so, but I really would have wanted to use the good china had we known you were bringing your boyfriend home.”

In a career built on interviews, I’ve never been asked so many questions in such a short period of time.

Most are easy, some are tough, a few are hilarious.

My favorite is the barrage about Casey when it turns out Sylvie Drake may love the idea of having me as a brother-in-law, but is a fervent, card-carrying member of Team Casey.

Holland snickers as I answer forty percent of the questions and casually deflect the rest. I’m pretty sure Case doesn’t want me sharing his underwear preferences with the world.

Holland literally spit out her mouthful of water when that one got tacked on to an inquiry about his favorite television show.

“Alright, sweetheart, enough about Casey. Maybe Luke would ask him for an autograph for you?” James says.

“Sure. He’d love it. I’ll get a signed stick for you,” I assure her, mostly to see Holland’s radiant smile again.

“That would be amaaaazing!” Sylvie sighs, melting before our eyes.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“More lasagna, Luke? Salad? Bread?” Annie asks. “You sure I can’t get you a glass of wine?”

“Oh, no thank you. I’m stuffed. It was delicious.”

“Luke doesn’t drink, Mom,” Holland adds, and I’m not surprised by their surprise.

“Oh! Well, I’m sorry for asking then. Is it bothering you that we are?”

I just smile. “No, it’s fine. Really, you all have been great. Thanks for having me.”

“You a Jays fan, Luke? You know they have a shot at the Wild Card this year. Just a week left in the season but they’re only one and a half games out.”

“Dad, he’s from South Africa and grew up in Houston. I guarantee you he’s not a Jays fan,” Holland mutters.

I laugh. “That’s true, but I like baseball.”

James gives his daughter a triumphant look as he rises from the table. “Well, come watch the game with me and see how real baseball is played.”

“Can I help with the dishes or anything, Mrs. Drake?” I ask, picking up my plate as I rise.

“Please, Luke. If you’re going to date my daughter you’re going to call me Annie. And no. You leave that. Holland and I have a lot of catching up to do. You go relax and watch the game. Can we get you anything else? A bottle of water? Some pop? Coffee?”

“No, thank you, I’m fine.”

“Oh, Holland, we have to take him for a poutine while he’s here!” Sylvie chimes in.

“Have you ever had a poutine?” Holland asks.

“That’s the fries with the gravy, right?”

“And cheese curds, yes. There’s a great place over in Scarborough but it’s a bit of a trip.”

“No, no! They just opened this new place over on Winter Street, Hol,” Sylvie corrects. “Just as good!”

“Really? As good as Hendricks?”

“Delicious,” James comments. “They do a good burger too. You like burgers, Luke?”

I nod. “Love them.”

“Great. We’ll take you over there sometime while you’re here. How long are you in town again?”

“Through our Saturday show. We’ll roll out on Sunday.”

“Excellent! That gives us plenty of time to get to know you. Did Holland tell you about Thursday yet?” Annie asks.

I glance at Holland who looks like she wasn’t planning to tell me about Thursday.

“No, what’s Thursday?”

“You didn’t tell him?” Annie directs to Holland who shrugs.

“Geez, Mom. You just asked me about it this morning.”

“Still!” She shakes her head and turns back to me. “Anyway, we thought since our daughter is actually home around Thanksgiving time, we’d do an early dinner this year. You’re coming as well, of course.”

“Um…”

“Canadian Thanksgiving is in a couple weeks,” Holland explains. Then glares at her mother. “And you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. That was an invitation, not a demand, right, Mom?”

“Of course! He’s free to turn it down if he wants to insult his future in-laws,” James teases from his recliner in the next room.

“Dad! Seriously?” Holland cries in exasperation. Her apologetic look turns outright pleading as she turns it on me. “I’m sorry about them. It’s not a Canadian thing, it’s a Drake thing.”

“How’d I do?” I ask as we make our way back toward the hotel.

“You were amazing,” Holland says, taking my hand. “They freaking love you.”

“Well, Sylvie anyway.”

She laughs. “Not as much as Casey, though.”

“Did you know about that?”

“That she’s obsessed with Casey Barrett? To be honest, Casey probably knows that. Ask him about Sylvie Drake. I’ll show you her room on Thursday.”

My grin fades. “About that. Thanksgiving Dinner? I’m honored to be invited, but…” I’m hoping I don’t have to finish that sentence. Holland’s eyes narrow, informing me that I will.

“But what?”

“I don’t know, that’s an intimate thing, isn’t it? Thanksgiving Dinner? Wouldn’t you rather spend that time alone with your family?”

She scoffs, and I know I’ve lost. “No, I’d rather spend that time watching the most important people in my life get to know each other.”

“I know, but I’m sure your parents want to see you.”

“Luke, do you have any idea how happy my mom is right now? That she gets to break out her good china? I swear, she will have it out and set by the time we get to our rooms. You also watched six innings of Jays with my dad. He’ll date you at this point if I don’t.

I haven’t seen them so happy since Wes and I broke up. ”

I nearly cough. “Wait, what? I thought you said they wanted you to get married.”

“Oh, hell, no,” she laughs. “They were always polite to him, but he did not click with my family at all. They thrive on the ribbing and he doesn’t have much of a sense of humor anymore if you haven’t noticed.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

“He used to when we were younger.” She sighs and shakes her head.

“Anyway, his family was a lot more upset about the breakup than mine, which makes no sense since they also blame me for his ‘betrayal.’ I think it was more because they were embarrassed than any concern for him…You know they basically disowned him when he chose music and Tracing Holland over the family business?”

“Really? Wow.”

“Yeah, he comes from money. Like, serious money, and he just walked away from all of it for me, to pursue our dream of music. He’s so talented but grew up being shamed for it.

They were never fair to him. They didn’t get it, or him, for that matter.

Gosh, some of the shit they used to say to him?

” She sucks in her breath. “I remember this one time back in high school they told him if he played a show with me instead of attending some stupid dinner for his dad’s company, not to bother coming home.

They actually locked him out. I’m not kidding.

He had to sleep at our place for four days before they’d let him back in. ”

I’m not sure how to respond. I’m sorry for that guy, that version of Wes. But there’s another version that’s punched me in the face. Twice.

“It means so much to me that you’ve been so patient with him. I know it’s taken a lot for you to show mercy and it hasn’t gone unnoticed.”

I clench my jaw, still struggling with this whole conversation. I know I’m supposed to be basking in her praise, maybe finding a small ember of forgiveness, but all I’m getting out of it is more evidence of how much I must really love her.

“So Thursday,” I continue, preferring that uncomfortable topic over the current one.

“Yes, Thursday. You’ll come?”

“Do I have a choice? I mean I don’t want to insult my future in-laws,” I joke, and she winces.

“Yeah, uh, sorry about that. They were just trying to humiliate me, don’t worry.”

I laugh. “Your parents yes, not so sure about your sister.”

Casey doesn’t recall the name Sylvie Drake, but loves the fact that my girlfriend’s sister is using me to get to him.

“So tell me this story again?”

I roll my eyes and take a sip of my coffee as we walk through downtown Toronto toward today’s adventure, some aquarium by the CN Tower. Callie and Holland are grinning, loving this almost as much as Casey.

“None of the details have changed in the last twenty minutes, Case,” I mutter.

“Oh, ok, just checking. So she still likes me more than you, then.”

“Apparently.”

“Even though you’re dating her sister.”

“Apparently.”

“Even though you’ve had dinner with her and gave her an exclusive, solo performance at her house.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You should have invited her to come with us today,” Callie adds. “I bet she would have loved to spend the day with you, hon,” she says, slinging her arm around his waist.

“Trust me, Cal. I love my sister dearly, but you don’t want her anywhere near your boyfriend,” Holland laughs. “You should see her room.”

“Oh really? Does it have lots of pictures of me and not Luke?” Casey quips, and I shove him forward.

“Concentrate on walking, superstar,” I tease, returning his infectious grin in spite of myself.

“I’m just saying, I’m here for you, bro. If you want me to put in a good word for you, I’d be happy to.”

I sigh and shake my head, wondering what the fallout would be for tossing someone in the stingray pool.