“They will. They’d be foolish not to,” David cuts in, a proud look in his eyes.

Luckily, John takes the break in my life story to ask David a few questions about the kitchen remodel. Listening on, I’m beyond amazed at his knowledge. It’s clear that he’s best friends with his father and that they both respect each other very much. Penny chimes in every now and then, offering her opinion on finishes and the overall design. She asks me my opinion on colors and tiles, easily including me in the conversation.

When we’re all done eating, she excuses herself. And a few minutes later, she’s walking back out to the table, her arms filled with a stack of photo albums. “Looks like it’s my turn to divulge all,” David jokes, leaning in so only I can hear him.

Pulling her chair up next to me, Penny opens an album and points out a few pictures from David’s youth. A Halloween here, an elementary school graduation there. As she flips over the page, she laughs. “And here you can see, middle school was . . . well, let’s just call it an awkward phase.”

Chiming in from the other end of the table, John adds, “Took the kid about three years to grow into his feet. Earned him the nickname Bozo for a while.”

I can’t contain my laughter, letting it burst from my mouth, spilling everywhere. David elbows me in the side. “You know what they say about big feet,” he whispers so only I can hear him as his mother opens another, more recent, album.

Gasping in shock at his overt words, I can’t put together any kind of response. However, I instantly remember what his body feels like beneath mine.

There’s definitely something to that myth.

“Oh and this one. This one is my favorite.” Penny’s words cut through my steamy thoughts. Clutching her hand to her chest, she points at a picture of David in a navy blue suit. Looking more closely at it, I realize it’s a picture of him on the day he graduated from the fire academy. Standing behind her son now, Penny says, “We were so proud of you that day.” She smiles at him, and then excuses herself to make some more coffee. John walks with her, leaving just David and I outside.

“You know,” he says as I continue to flip through the rest of the pictures from his graduation day. “I thought of you that day.”

“What? No you didn’t.” Disbelief colors my words.

“I did,” he asserts. Tucking his finger under my chin, he turns my head to his. His eyes capture mine. “You might not have been there with me physically, but in my head and my heart you were. Because, Grace,” his voice changes on my name, becoming more serious somehow, “I wouldn’t have become the man I am without you.” His lips brush against mine softly. It’s not a hard kiss of passion or need like before. Rather it’s one of affection and appreciation. “And now, having you here with me, actually sitting next to me, letting me touch you.” He pauses, grazing his thumb over my lip. “It’s almost more than I can handle.”

“Ahem,” John clears his throat behind us. “You’ve got two seconds before your mother comes out here and sees you like that. And we all know she’ll never let up if she does. Hell, she’ll have a wedding planner over next week. So knock it off, will ya.” It’s impossible not to laugh at John, especially after witnessing Penny’s excitement firsthand. And when she settles back into her seat, even though I miss David’s warmth right at my side, he reaches under the table and laces his fingers together with mine.

When we leave a few hours later, I realize I learned so much about him through his parents’ stories.

But I learned even more about his character from the way he helped his father with the busted pipe; from the way he insisted his mom take it easy and let him take care of the dishes; from the way he promised he’d be back at their house tomorrow morning to help with the contractors; in the way he held my hand the entire ride back to the train station.

And in the way he kissed me goodbye on the platform, making me feel like the most important person in his life for those heated seconds.

And so, as I sit on the train heading back to my apartment, I get lost in thoughts of everything I still don’t, but can’t wait to know about the man who is quickly working his way into my heart.

Achy and sore beyond all belief, I want nothing more than to close my eyes. After two days of helping my parents with their kitchen, I’m thankful something was screwed up with the flooring. It’s not that I mind helping them out. I’d much rather be exhausted and over-worked from helping them than have them be taken advantage of. But between helping them and trying to let my leg heal, my body can only take so much.

Even after a hot shower, I still feel the knots pulling in my shoulders, the after effects of two days’ worth of ripping up old tiling. But there’s no rest for the weary, especially in my life. Despite having the opportunity to study quite a bit during the not-so-busy shifts at work, I still need a good cram session at home. And that’s exactly what’s on the agenda today.

“Glasses on. Let’s get this shit done,” I say aloud, needing to motivate myself. Uncapping the bright yellow highlighter, I open the six-inch three-ring binder and get down to business.

The words begin to blur together. The highlighter may as well weigh a ton because holding it steady in my hand becomes impossible. When my glasses slip from my nose, I know I’m fighting a losing battle.

That’s when my phone buzzes on the table. With Grace’s name flashing across the screen, I’m instantly awake.

“Hey,” I answer cheerfully.

“Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Oh, my god,” she rambles on with breathless delight.

“Grace? Is that you? Are you okay?” Her lack of a greeting has me a little concerned.

“Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Oh, my god,” she continues on, clearly not hearing a word I’ve just said.

“Either something really amazing happened or you’re having the orgasm of a lifetime and you felt the need to call me and rub it in my face.” I knew that would work because the oh, my gods stop. “And if you are having an orgasm, I hope it’s the self-inflicted kind because otherwise, that’s just plain old mean,” I joke, imagining her face twist in a mixture of mock-horror and humor.

Paying no mind whatsoever to my comments, she blurts, “I have a demo lesson. Me. They called me! They had the spot filled and then the candidate backed out. Their back-up had already taken a job so they called me! There’s only a few days of classes left, so they want to do the interview and the demo on the same day. The same day! Can you believe that?”

“Holy crap! That’s amazing, Grace. Where? When?” My excitement over her news is rivaled only by the knowledge that she wanted to share her enthusiasm with me.

“Tomorrow. Holy shit.” Realization flows through her words. “Tomorrow at ten in the morning. I need to get to work. And then figure out the train schedule. I can’t be late and screw this up. But I still don’t even know what I’m going to do.” Her ramblings are exasperating and she’s getting way ahead of herself here.

“Grace,” I say calmly into the line. “What school?” I ask, even though I already have an idea.

“Commack. The high school. Tenth grade.” Her tone changes. Seemingly overwhelmed by it all, she sounds distant and lost. “I don’t even know where that is.”

“Well, luckily for you, I do. It’s about half an hour east of me, but there’s no direct train near there,” I explain. “How about this? Why don’t you pack a bag and take a train to me. You can plan your lesson here.”

“Right,” she scoffs. “Because that’ll happen.”

“I was actually just studying. We can work through the night and then you can practice your lesson for me.” Images of Grace as a hot teacher asking me to see her after class, deter me for a minute.