“Micah! Didn’t expect to see you today?” The deep, rumbly voice of his, which I refuse to admit I like, sounds both chagrined and confused. Home Troy is warm and open in a way that Work Troy isn’t. It’s an interesting contrast.
I hold up the folder from Arlo.
“Just need you to sign some stuff for Tiernan. Not sure what it is, Arlo said it was important.” Unable to dismiss my grin, I hand him the folder, thinking he’ll sign it and I’ll be out of here, but that’s not what happens.
Gloria plucks it right out of his hand, setting it off to the side and out of the way of all the meal prep containers neatly lined up on the counter.
“No business yet. Troy, where are your manners? Ask the man to stay for dinner.” She nods in my direction, giving Troy, I’ve now decided it’s Troy, what I assume to be a mom look. Never having experienced one, I can’t be completely sure. I try not to think about moms because it makes my chest ache.
Troy turns those amber eyes on me with purpose, and I can tell I’m about to be staying for dinner.
“Micah, would you like to stay for dinner?” he asks, impeccably polite, but I can see his lips turning up at the sides, eyes lighting up with suppressed laughter.
“You’re not really giving me much of a choice, are you?” I’m not sad about it. I’m absolutely sure that this food will be much better than the ramen that’s waiting for me at home. Here is the better choice by far.
“Not even a little,” Troy says as he grins at me.
Before I know it, Gloria has me seated at the breakfast bar with a glass of white wine—beer is not my thing—and a plate of cheese and crackers. The deliciously sharp cheddar is cut up into neat little squares that perfectly match the size of the crackers. She’s got them arranged in a cool pattern on the plate, and I’m kind of scared to mess it up. It looks so nice.
Gloria, of course, swoops in, starts loading up a plate, and places it in front of me without a word before turning back to the stove. I don’t really know what to do, so I eat the food and drink my glass of wine. It’s delicious.
“Micah dear, what do you do at the gym? Are you a fighter like my Troy here?”
My mouth is full, and I shake my head. Thankfully, Troy answers for me.
“Micah does all of our social media, mom. He’s a whiz at graphics and all that creative stuff. He’s gotten us all kinds of new business.” The admiration in his voice knocks me for a loop. I certainly haven’t done anything to earn that kind of praise. My face heats and suddenly I’m examining the floor tile like it’s my job.
“Oh, that’s wonderful! I’m sure Tiernan appreciates that. I know he’s not fond of technology,” she says, shooting me an approving smile. Her kind eyes gaze at me with affection, and the warmth in my chest that I’m choosing to ignore spreads.
“T’s talking about expanding into the next space and opening up some additional classes too,” Troy adds.
Hmm, I didn’t know that. I’ll have to get some more pictures up of Troy’s BJJ class. They get the highest views and seem popular with our followers. And honestly, he’s adorable with his kids. He’s got this gentle way with them I really admire, and the patience of a saint.
Gloria asks me about my job at the gym, and I tell her more than is usual for me. It’s disconcerting, and against my better judgment, I keep talking. She seems so interested, and it’s really nice when someone pays attention.
When the old guy who was working on the car next door comes walking into the kitchen just as dinner is almost ready, it doesn’t even faze me, because, of course, Troy lives right next door to his parents. He looks like an older version of Troy, although that should probably be the other way around. The only difference is that this guy has hair. Not a lot, but more than Troy. They have the same smile, and their eyes get the same crinkle at the corners.
“Hey, Pops.” Troy nods as the old man wraps his arms around Gloria, tugging her up for a hug.
“What deliciousness are you making for dinner, my Morning Glory?” he rumbles next to her ear.
“Humph. As if you don’t know by the smell.” But she’s wearing an enormous grin and leaning back against the man I can only assume is Troy’s dad. It’s cute as hell.
Troy huffs out a laugh.
“It’s pot roast, Pops. Which you already know, ‘cause I told you earlier.”
“I’m asking my bride, son. Not you.” Gloria giggles in his arms and he kisses her cheek.
“Let me wash my hands and then you can introduce me to this young man.” He nods at me with a welcoming smile.
Troy introduces me to his father, James, as we head to the dining room. The table is properly set, and there’s even an elegant blue tablecloth. Dinner is spread across the table in matching serving dishes, the pot roast getting center stage, and it looks absolutely delicious.
I panic a bit when I realize that we’re all eating at the table together. I’m not sure I remember which fork to use or whatever it is other people know about manners.
“We just do things buffet style,” Gloria tells me, giving my arm a reassuring squeeze. “Just grab your plate and help yourself. Nothing formal.”
I resist the urge to run away. I can do this.