Page 65 of My Big Fat Shifter Wedding

“I know you’ve probably seen it on television, but please don’t do the hand thing when talking to my parents. It’s not funny.”

“The hand thing?”

She made the stereotypical Italian gesture, and while I was pretty sure that was what she’d always meant, I was glad to have confirmation.

“Ah, okay. I’ll make sure I don’t.”

“And my mother’s accent is much thicker than my father’s because she came over here way after him, but both of them speak a mix of Italian and English kind of mish-mashed together.”

“I’m sure I’ll be able to understand.”

“Okay, but if you don’t, don’t assume they’re saying anything bad.”

“Why would I?”

“You know how people get sometimes.”

“By people do you mean dirty monolinguals like myself?” I teased. Truly, I didn’t mind that Olivia was so wound up. It showed that this was important to her, because I was important to her.

How could I not take that as a compliment?

“You say that like I haven’t noticed multiple times you doing Duolingo on your phone when you think I’m not looking.”

Damn! She’d seen that? And here I’d thought I had been quite sneaky about it.

“You leave me and my sixty-four-day streak alone.”

“Ooh, five more days and you might actually have something there!”

Laughing, I rolled my eyes. “As much as I enjoy being a cunning linguist in both senses, perhaps that’s a subject we shouldn’t talk about while on the way to your parents.” I actually didn’t mind; I always loved the way we slipped in and out of flirting with each other so easily, but it was still fun to tease her about it.

“My parents had seven children. Do you think there’s anything we could possibly say to them that would be a surprise?”

“Maybe so, but I’m not really interested in thinking about how your parents got those kids either.”

She grimaced. “You may have a point.”

“I try to, at least from time to time. And if I can’t find one of my own, usually my chisel will do.”

“Oh right, I forgot to mention, please do not use a chisel on my parents either. They would not appreciate that.”

“You know, some people would call all these rules controlling.”

“Yep, that’s me. Being an unreasonable, psycho girlfriend by asking you not to use your woodworking tools on my flesh and blood.”

We reached a red light, and I looked at her. We shared a laugh, and for the last seven minutes of our drive, the mood was much lighter.

After all, I was just meeting her parents. The people who raised her. Considering what a great job they’d done with their daughter, I was sure they were reasonable people with a great sense of humor. I let that assuredness carry me right up until we pulled onto her street. There were only three houses. Two quite large ones on either side of the entrance and a truly massive villa at the very end.

What the hell?

Olivia had told me her family had done very well for themselves, so I had expected someplace nice, but as we pulled closer, and the house somehow kept expanding, I realized she was likely rich. Like millionaire status. Yes, she liked to spoil me with new tools, nights out on the town, and random surprises to show that she was thinking of me. I’d always figured it was because she got to save so much from living at home. Now, however, I understood she was obviously loaded.

Instantly, another puzzle piece clicked into place about why she’d been so cautious to introduce me to her family. Although I had managed to build a great career and earned way more money than I ever thought I could, I was clearly coming from a less-economically advantaged situation.

Oh my god! I’m the gold digger!

Perhaps I was supposed to find that emasculating, but as a guy who had always been on the “little bit too large” side of whatever was in at the time, I found it quite flattering.