Vegas Knot (✔️) | Love Travels #1

Twenty-Eight

Enrique is a suave parent-soothing master, expertly discussing whatever my mother brings up and handling questions about his situation in life like a pro. Which is saying something, because all I want to do is dig a very large hole and climb inside so no one can see me.

Finally, after a war of words that must have lasted fifteen or twenty minutes, my mother offers her hand. "I'm not done worrying about her."

He accepts her handshake. "She's your daughter, Ma'am. You'll never stop worrying about her."

"Yes, but she's old enough to make her own decisions. Or so she keeps telling me. I hope you two will be very happy together." She turns back to me and offers a hug. "We can talk another day?"

Why's she being so nice all of a sudden? Something's up. But I don't have time to think about it, because I have to get myself ready to leave in the morning.

"Thanks, Mama. Sure, I'll give you a call once I'm settled in."

"Good. I left dinner in the kitchen."

And then she walked away. Which aliens kidnapped my mother while I was in Vegas?

Enrique and I wave until she is out of sight. Smart of her to park around the corner where I wouldn't see her distinctive orange car.

"What was that?" I ask, turning toward him.

"I don't know? I expected her to be more scary."

"She's way more scary. Are you a parent-whisperer? You can calm them with a single conversation?"

He bursts out laughing. What is going on in topsy-turvy land today?

Enrique struggles to get in enough breath to form a sentence, but he squeaks out a choppy, "It's just funny because I'm a teacher so I kind of am a professional parent-whisperer."

I do not understand the joke. And I make absolutely no attempt to keep that confusion off my face.

Finally, he manages to catch himself and stand to full height. "Sorry. I guess that's only funny to other teachers."

"Shall we go in?" I offer, climbing the stairs and unlocking the door. "Or do we have more strange things to deal with on my front lawn?"

"No, no. Lead the way."

He is still chuckling to himself as I swing the door open. I'm not optimistic that holding my breath and refusing to look at him will calm my nerves, but I'm going to give it a try anyway.

"It's nice," he says, stepping through the door and removing his shoes. His bags clunk to the floor as he rounds the corner into the living room. "I like your shelves."

"You like my shelves?" I follow behind, arms crossed in front of me like it's some kind of battle armour.

"I do like your shelves. Is that an odd thing to say in this situation? Sorry." He smiles. "Any chance this place has a kitchen or a bathroom too?"

If I roll my eyes any harder, they'll fall out of my head. "You are hilarious. Just remember I get to see your house tomorrow so anything you dish out I will return in kind."

"I can take it," he smiles, gently nudging my shoulder with his hand.

"Oh, you are good," I return. "Fine, you like it and I should relax."

"I do. And you should. It's going to be fine."

* * *

I forgot how much work it is to unpack a whole suitcase, wash all of your laundry, and pack everything back up again. It's enough to make me never want to travel again.