[If you don't take me behind that bush and fuck me right now, I think I'm going to scream. I'm fucking serious.]
[I love you too, dear,] is Hisao's only reply, before taking my hands in his and giving me a small, but loving kiss on the lips.
Oooh. Nice. I'd forgotten how nice he tastes.
I'm trying to pull him down for a second, deeper kiss, but he's already pulling away from me and turning back to the car that he and his parents arrived in. Big, black, serious looking vehicle. Big trunk. Lots of room. Lots of luggage.
He's reaching into the back seat and pulling out a couple of roller bags, as his parents get out of the vehicle. They must have been in there for hours. His mother is stretching her arms out over her head as she climbs out and turns to me, her short, greying hair done up in nice, tight curls.
"Hello. Shizune. Good to see you again."
Over-enunciating her words. Over exaggerating her lip movements. Either she's being patronizing, or trying to be polite. I'll assume the more charitable of the two options this time.
I bow my head to her respectfully and smile as she takes my hands in hers and gives me a light kiss on the cheek. She reaches into the back seat of the car and pulls something out that was hanging from the handhold back there.
It's a knee-length white sundress. Strappy top. Hell, I think it's even my size.
How the hell did she figure out my size?
She's saying something to me, but I can't quite make it out from this angle. Not hard to figure out, though.
I'm an older woman who has never had a daughter, only a son, and has always wanted one, though, so now I'm making up for lost time by buying my son's fiancee pretty dresses like the ones I would have bought for my daughter, if I'd had one.
She holds the dress up to my body and does a few small adjustments here and there, probably saying something about how she has to let in the waist and let out the bust or something.
Okay, whatever that was she just said, it's made my fiance turn bright red and complain. His hands are full with luggage, or he'd probably be signing it as well.
She's definitely teasing him somehow. . .
Where is Hisao's dad, anyway?
I turn around a bit and glance around the area. I finally catch sight of Mister Nakai standing by my father, bowing respectfully to him and saying something I can't make out. My dad's got this funny expression, like he's just swallowed a sour plum pit or something like that. But he's not angry, so I guess that's something.
. . . damn it. I wish I could see their faces more clearly from here.
A tap on my shoulder. Hisao turns to me and gestures to something in the back seat. Glancing over his shoulder.
Oh. OH. He IS good.
How did he know my dad loves white peaches? Damn, looks like they bought the good ones, too. Each one is wrapped in gilded tissue paper, and nestled in a little bed of straw to protect them from bruising. How much did they spend on these things anyway?
The scent of the delicious peaches fills the inside of the car as I reach in and pick up the little gift box of fruit. I may as well carry them into the house for them. . .
Almost immediately, though, as I'm walking past my father and Hisao's dad, I realize I've made a mistake. My Dad's expression turns dark and his lips turn pursed. Oh great. I can imagine what he's thinking right now.
Making my daughter carry luggage into the house like some sort of porter? DISGRACEFUL. Useless child. I should castrate him with a kitchen fork and force feed him poison.
I shoot him back an angry glare, hiding it behind my smile, before I carry the fruit into the house.
I hope I haven't made Hisao's life hard for him. I hope I haven't offended his mother. I hope I'm not screwing up our weekend together.
Damn it. This is going to be the worst weekend of all time.