With Crayons and Love (Romantic Suspense) [COMPLETED]

Chapter 19 - Here

It was later that week on a warm Friday morning that our flight departed from Illinois to South Carolina. We arrived at the southern airport at ten in the morning, with my eyes wide open and my heart a little heavy. Stella slept sweetly against Grant's chest as he carried her, and I rolled our small suitcase through the airport. Grant brought solely a leather bag that hung suspended on his shoulder, for he had his own belongings at his parents' home.

Parents. I was nervous enough as it was without thinking of his parents. I wanted very badly for them to like me, to like Stella, and to welcome us into their home.

I needed it.

I stopped moving when he halted, and he turned to look down at me with his hand on Stella's back.

"You're coming apart with nerves. They're practically hitting my body, Red."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I moaned, closing my eyes.

"Is it because of my parents?" He asked, doubtful.

"Partly, yes."

"They'll love you. They will love you."

I breathed out, looking at the unwavering honesty in his eyes.

I smiled. "I'm okay."

"Yes, you are. Let's go now, they'll be waiting out to drive us to the house."

***

You could have seen from miles away that she was his mother, and he his father. Gretel and Nash waved at us with smiles along the crowds of travelers, looking at their son with elation, and then at the bundle in his arms with expectation, and at me with curiosity.

All of which was normal, of course.

I smiled. Once we were closer it was easier to survey one another with the interest we shared. His mother had the same crystal blue eyes, and a welcoming smile of perfect teeth and lips that screamed "Gable". She was lovely, with her blonde waves falling softly about her shoulders and sun tanned complexion. His father, handsome even with age, bore the height of his son, if not an inch less, with hair the same black color as his son's, and skin as sun-kissed as his wife's. His eyes, on the other hand, were warm brown.

They were beautiful people. They smiled with warmth.

"Tessa, to finally meet you! You're as pretty as described. Prettier, son. You lack in description, and you're an artist!" Gretel laughed, coming to me for a hug. I let go of the suitcase, shocked, and hugged her in return.

"I-It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Gable."

"Nonsense. Call me Gretel, hun."

"Gretel," I smiled, causing her to do the same in satisfaction.

"Why, and this is my husband!" She interjected, almost as if she had forgotten he was there. "Nash, dear, be polite."

He gave me the same reckless smile of his son's, and I had to fight a sudden gasp of surprise. "Just waiting my turn," he jested. "Nice to meet you, Tessa." And he hugged me lightly.

"Oh, and my son! My son. Sweet boy," Gretel gushed, tears filling her eyes.

"It was about time you acknowledged me," Grant joked, a grin in his voice.

His father and I laughed, and I couldn't help but to notice that Gretel and my mother would get along like schoolgirls if they ever met.

The tension started to ease away from my bones, and I looked at her as she gave him a kiss, patted Stella's hair. She stared at the beautiful, sleeping child with pure awe.