By the time we got back to my dad's house, my dad and I were both exhausted. I had forgotten how energetic Betty and Greta were. They seemed to feed off of each other's energy.
I pulled out my phone quickly.
Emily: Just got to my dad's house. Good luck tonight!
Before I could put my phone back into my pocket, it chimed.
Lucas: It feels weird going to a fight without you
Emily: It feels weird not being at your fight. But I know you're going to do amazing. I'll be watching from here
Lucas: Should I throw a wink at you?
Emily: I appreciate the thought, but I think you winking at yourself to the camera is probably not the best PR
Lucas: Should I mention your street name? Where does your dad live anyway?
Emily: Only if you want my dad to hate you forever - Sherwood Drive.
I shoved my phone back into my pocket as we entered the home.
"I don't understand why you didn't get a fake Christmas tree, Ryan," Greta stated in confusion as my dad used his key to unlock the door to our small bungalow.
It looked exactly like it had when I last came to visit, down to the dead fern that lingered in the corner - a gift from Ashley.
"It's so bad for the environment," Betty agreed walking inside the house and plopping her body onto one of the couches. She placed her feet, shoes and all, on the coffee table.
"I'm not discussing this again," my dad sighed in exasperation, "and get your shoes off my table." He pushed Betty's feet gently and they landed with a thump on the floor.
"Well, hosting has never been your speciality," Betty snapped, picking a newspaper off the table and flipping through its pages. She slammed the newspaper down in frustration. "Greta!" She called for her sister who had wandered into the kitchen.
Greta stuck her head out, "Yes dear?"
"It's 9 o'clock in the afternoon and I'm flipping through a newspaper. What's wrong with this picture?" Betty asked in frustration.
"There's no alcohol!" Greta chimed, popping back into the kitchen and emerging with a pitcher of something I'm sure I didn't want to know the contents of.
"You read my mind," Betty exclaimed, sitting up excitedly and taking a wine glass from the tray Greta was holding. She picked up the pitcher and poured the liquid into her glass, filling it to the brim before taking an exaggerated sip. "Ah. That's better."
"Ryan, you're not having one I assume," Greta walked past my dad and straight to me, holding a glass up to me. I knew it was futile to say no so I accepted the glass, placing it on the table next to me as I sat down across from Betty. They'd forget I wasn't drinking eventually.
"So," My dad rubbed his hands together excitedly, "How's work, Emily?"
"We're getting to the good stuff, I see," Greta stated drily as she took a sip out of her wine glass.
"It's going really well, actually." I replied, folding my legs under me.
"What does your boss do?" Betty inquired raising an eyebrow at me.
"He's a UFC fighter," I tried to say it nonchalantly so as not to attract attention, but as soon as the words came out of my mouth, I knew I had Greta and Betty's attention.
"Now we're getting to the juicy stuff." Greta cackled.
"A fighter," Betty exclaimed, fanning herself. "What's his name?"
"Lucas," I responded unsurely.
"Got it," Greta responded, her phone in hand. "Lucas Miller. Ooh la la," She passed her phone next to Betty as she sat down.
Betty squeaked in response, "Hell, I'll become a caretaker if I get to be around men like this."
"Too bad you have the bedside manner of a biker gang member," My dad scoffed.
"Oh hush," Betty scolded as she passed the phone back to Greta. "When did you start dating?"
I choked as I took a sip of water, "We're not dating dating!"
"Ha. Betty, you're always spot on," Greta laughed, slapping her sister's shoulder in excitement.
"I know, it's a gift, really." Betty chortled as she took another sip.
"I'm sorry, you're dating your boss?" My dad asked, clearly struggling to follow along in the conversation.
I wrung my fingers together nervously. I supposed we were going to tell people when I got back home. "I guess?"
"Hallelujah. Great nieces and nephews are in our future." Greta pumped her fist in excitement.
"We all doubted it, but here we are. Future great aunts." Betty wiped the corner of her eye dramatically.
"I'm sorry, how long has this been going on?" My dad asked, worry laced in his voice.
I put my hand up, "We've only been on one date. We're taking things very slowly, don't worry." I tried to calm my dad down, but I know he knew that nothing would get resolved around Greta and Betty.
"Betty, there's a fight happening tonight," Greta moved her phone closer to Betty so she could look at it. "Where's the remote, Ryan?"
"We're not watching two men pound at each other." My dad rebuked.
Betty ignored him, "Why even ask, Greta? He never moves the remote from the basket next to the TV."
"How could I forget," Greta mumbled jumping up and grabbing the remote before flipping the TV on. "Ah! Fight night. Brings me back to our teenage years."
I quickly glanced at the TV, glad I would get to see Lucas's fight after all. I thought I was going to have to watch the highlights after I snuck away. Lucas currently had his opponent in a chokehold while punching at his side. He was on the third round.
"Look at that! It's Lucas!" Betty exclaimed pointing at the TV. "Can you see those abs? I could lick butter off of them."
"You're lactose intolerant," Greta reminded her sister.
"Not the point, Greta," Betty sighed.
The announcer's voice rang through the television, "Lucas is struggling a little it seems, Dan. Three rounds in is the longest he's fought during this championship. He's battered up, that's for sure."
I was at the edge of my seat watching Lucas's bleeding face pounding into his opponent, my heart racing wildly in my chest. He twisted his leg around the other fighter's neck and turned his body so his chokehold intensified right as the fighter tapped Lucas's leg three times.
"There you have it, Mark! Round four winner goes to Lucas Miller! The fights just keep getting more difficult! These fighters are not here for fun. They are here with a point to prove and I think Miller did just that tonight!" Dan's voice buzzed.
"No wonder you don't come back to visit us," Greta muttered, her mouth agape as Lucas's arm was lifted in the air and declared the winner. He had minor cuts along his face, but his arm was what worried me, it looked slightly swollen and the way he winced as his arm was raised had me worried.
I pulled out my phone after a few minutes, hoping Lucas would be in the locker room and have his phone on him.
Emily: Congratulations! I knew you could do it
Lucas: Just barely. I think you're my good luck charm
Emily: I'll be back before you know it. How's your arm?
Lucas: You're pretty observant
Emily: You're an easy subject to watch
Lucas: Back at ya ;)
We ended the night by opening gifts and drinking more of the concoction that my aunts had stirred up. My dad even tried a quarter of a glass before he felt so sick, he needed to sleep off his hangover. Greta and Betty ate so much that they eventually fell asleep next to each other on the couch and used their feet to shove me away when I tried to get them to their rooms.
I walked to the back of the house where my old room waited for me. I opened the creaky door, noticing that my dad hadn't moved a single stuffed animal off of my bed. My phone dinged in my pocket and I pulled it out.
Lucas: Sherwood Drive?
Emily: Yeah, why?
Lucas: What's your house number?
Emily: 42. If you're getting someone to egg our house, I'd like to take this moment to caution you against it
Lucas didn't respond so I waited, phone in hand. After a few minutes, it dinged again and I jumped to pick it up.
Lucas: You're cute. Come outside
Emily: Outside? It's two in the morning and freezing
Lucas: I'll keep you warm
My brows furrowed in confusion as I shrugged a jacket on and snuck my way past my knocked out aunts and out the door.
Standing in the middle of my driveway, leaning against his car was Lucas.
~~~
I'm on a rooolll