"That's so far away," I say, letting my imagination take a hold of me. "We probably won't even remember what we looked like when we were this age."

Jace shakes his head and says something about how he will have stayed just as s.e.xy as he is today, thanks to modern science and cryogenics or something like that. I take Julie's lead and smile at him, but my mind is really somewhere else, my thoughts lost to the possibilities of the future.

I had been looking at this all wrong. Meeting Jace's parents isn't just a one-time meet them, charm them, and never see them again thing. It's the start of a lifetime of knowing each other. Of holidays and birthdays and vacations to see their grandchild. It's two more people to call if Jace ends up in the hospital again. One day she really will show us that picture she just took. And we'll be older and greyer and our child will be in college. Maybe we'll have two kids. And she'll know all about it because she's family. Because we're family.

As terrifying as it is to meet the people who brought my soul mate to this earth, I now realize how important it is to know them.

Chapter 14.

I always knew Jace came from a wealthy family, but I never knew how wealthy. When we arrive at his parent's house, I have to physically stop my jaw from hitting the floor by clenching my jaw together. We drive up the cobblestone driveway, which is U-shaped around a ma.s.sive water fountain with a concrete angel in the middle. The landscaping around the front yard is so pristine, it most definitely has a gardener who tends to it daily.

Their house is a ma.s.sive brick structure with tons of windows and a high peaked roof. There's two white columns that frame the doorway, rising from the ground up to the roof. It's right about now when I notice that the house seems so huge because it's not just a typical big two-story house. It's three stories.

Julie parks up front and turns down the radio volume before shutting off the engine. "Gary gets so annoyed when I leave the radio up loud," she explains, rolling her eyes as if he's a mean old man and she's the cool young kid who loves loud music.

I glance over at Jace to see his reaction to coming home to such a ma.s.sive place. He's just staring at his phone, checking the supercross results. He must sense me looking at him because he looks up, his eyes finding mine instantly. "Eight bedrooms," he says, nodding toward the house. "I'll let you pick which one we stay in."

"I thought we'd be staying in your old bedroom?"

He shakes his head. "That's been turned into the trophy room."

We climb out of the car and I follow Jace to the back of the vehicle even though I know he won't let me carry my own luggage. "Trophy room? Now I have to see this."

Julie laughs. "I wouldn't exactly call it a trophy room." She grabs Jace's suitcase and he takes mine, carrying it by the handle and not letting it roll.

"You know the foyer part of our apartment?" he asks. I nod. It's a teensy s.p.a.ce between the doorway and the living room where we hang our keys and kick off our shoes. There's also about twenty random dirt bike trophies cluttering the area. Jace mostly teaches people how to ride these days, but occasionally he and Ash will drive a few hours out to race the pro cla.s.s at a local track. "Pro" cla.s.s doesn't mean the professional supercross racers that Jace was banned from before I met him. It just means people who aren't famous, who are just as fast and get to race for money. The terms are confusing, but I've just learned to accept them for what they are.

"My old bedroom is pretty much like that," he says, closing the car's cargo door.

We enter through the front door, which I'm a.s.suming is for my benefit. The front door is, of course, two doors that swing open into a marble floored foyer that is seriously bigger than my living room at home.

A ma.s.sive staircase is to the left, taking you up to the second floor balcony. Beyond that, I can just see where another staircase starts, going up to the third floor. It's all so shiny and beautiful that I'm scared to walk around out of fear that I'll dirty the place just by being in it.

Julie leads us up the stairs, which have carpeting so plush that it feels like I'm walking on a cloud, and then to the right and down a ma.s.sive hallway. There are six doors in the hallway, and the square footage of the hall alone is probably more than my entire apartment back at home.

"Let's show her the trophy room', Jace." Julie makes air quotes around the last two words in a way that is clearly mocking him. She stops at the very last door on the right and motions for Jace to show me inside.

"Are you ready for this?" he says, lifting his eyebrows. "It's pretty epic in here."

I nod. "I'm definitely ready."

I'm picturing cla.s.s curios lining the walls, carrying various trophies, plaques and ribbons. Maybe a framed picture of Jace holding a trophy. I know he's been racing dirt bikes since he was a kid, so there's probably pictures of him from all ages on the walls.

The first thing I see when I step into the room is gold and silver shiny plastic dirt bikes. A sea of trophies of all colors, many of them taller than I am, line the walls and the floor. I can only take one step inside the former bedroom without crashing into a wall of trophies that would undoubtedly crumple over like a pile of dominos. Every single s.p.a.ce in the room holds a trophy. Hundreds of them. I was right about the plaquesthe walls are filled with dozens of plaques shaped like a number plate, the number one in the center, and a bra.s.s tag at the bottom, telling which year he won the championship.

"Holy c.r.a.p," I mutter under my breath. "I don't think this room is big enough."

"That's what the attic is for," Julie says. "Trust me, you do not want to see the attic."

"I can't believe you kept these," Jace says, shaking his head. To me, he says, "I quit caring about the trophies when I was twelve. I wouldn't even go pick them up after the race because I had so many but Mom insisted on getting them."

"Of course I wanted them," Julie says. "My son won them and I was proud." Her eyes light up a moment later. "Oh my G.o.d. Jace! I just remembered the greatest thing. We have to show her your first!" We shuffle back into the hallway and Jace mutters, "Oh G.o.d," under his breath. I have no idea what she's talking about but I am excited to see it if it makes Jace this embarra.s.sed. Not many things embarra.s.s him, so this should be good.

Back down stairs, through fancy entryways and around a spiral staircase in the kitchen that goes up to some mysterious level, Julie stops in the dinette. I had noticed a ma.s.sive dining table in a formal dining room down the hall, but this room is just off the kitchen and has a round gla.s.s-top table with only four chairs. This must be where Julie and Gary eat their meals together when they're not entertaining.

The room overlooks the backyard which can been seen through floor to ceiling windows. There's a porch, tons of palm trees and tiki torches, a gra.s.s roofed hut that looks like a full bar, and then the most magnificent swimming pool I've ever seen.

There's a pool at my mom's house, but it's small and she rarely had the money to get the water cleaned so we could swim in it when I was a kid. Mostly it sat half-empty, with green water. Sometimes we'd get it ready for summerthose were always the best summers. Something tells me Jace has never had to worry about their swimming pool's water going green.

I glance up at Jace and he slides an arm around me, a simple gesture of love, something he does automatically whenever I am around.

"Let's get this over with," he says. "Where is it?"

Julie's smile stretches from ear to ear as she walks across the small room, to where a few shelves line the walls in a random pattern. There, in the middle shelf, sits a framed picture of a little boy. Next to it is a trophy that's not even as tall as the picture frame. I walk up to it, studying the picture of what I know is my fiance.

"This was Jace's very first race," Julie explains. "There were fifteen other kids in his cla.s.s and he was so nervous and so excited."

The picture is slightly grainy from having been blown up larger than the standard size for photos back when we were kids. No doubt this photograph was taken with an actual roll of film in a camera and not digitally. A young Jace, no older than five, stands in front of a tree holding the same trophy that's on the shelf. He has bright blonde hair and pudgy cheeks that smile so big you can see his missing front tooth. I recognize his clothing as being motocross gear, but it looks nothing like the style of gear today. The colors are bold and tacky, the pants look like they're straight from the eighties. I squint my eyes and try to make out the surroundings in the grainy photograph. I can barely see an old score tower near a row of trees. Mountains fill up the distance and I know he's not in Texas.

"Fifth place," I say, reading the bra.s.s on the tiny trophy.

"He was so proud to get that trophy," Julie says. "It was his prized possession. It's funny to think that just two years later, the boy would have died if he got fifth place. He was always winning or coming in second."

"Yeah I can't imagine Jace getting fifth place now," I say. "He'd probably be mad for days."

"That's because it'll never happen," Jace says, throwing me a confident smile.

"Maybe not after you've raced a million times. Just getting a trophy out of fifteen other kids on your first ever race was pretty impressive," Julie says. She seems ten years younger when she's bragging about her son. And Jace seems ten years younger with how shy he gets when she talks about him like this. It shows a vulnerability to the man I consider my rock, the man who always knows what to do and always has my back. I love seeing this side of him.

I take a step backward and lean my head back against Jace's chest. Julie's phone rings and she excuses herself to answer it.

"Let me show you my favorite place," Jace says, sliding his hand down my back and guiding me back toward the big part of the kitchen.

"And where might that be?" I ask. He nods toward the metal staircase that spirals sharply up a pole and disappears into the ceiling above. "Is this the place you bring all the girls?" I ask, trying to play it off like I don't care, but I do. I really do.

"Does my mom count?" he asks.

I shake my head and climb up the stairs quickly, more eager to see what awaits at the top now that I know it won't' be Jace's secret make out spot. The stairs lead to a tiny room that overlooks balcony on the second floor. We push open the sliding gla.s.s doors and step out onto a covered porch. There's a hammock to the right and a plush outdoor couch to the left. The view is amazing. It faces the back of the neighborhood, which unlike the front, it doesn't face another row of houses. All I can see for miles is the beauty of Sacramento.

Jace plops down into the hammock and steadies himself, resting his hands behind his head. I lean my hands on the balcony railing and look out at the world beyond, taking it all of the beauty the landscape has to offer.

"Mind if I join you?" I ask Jace a few moments later.

"I don't know," he says, squishing his lips to the right. "I really loved the view from here."

"You can see over the railing from the hammock?" I ask.

He shakes his head and that sneaky grin of his appears on his gorgeous face. "No, but I had a s.e.xy view of that a.s.s."

Heat fills my cheeks. "Yeah, well this a.s.s would like to cuddle with you."

"Come on over," he says, doing his best to slide over in the hammock. "As long as I get to grab it, I'll be alright."

I slide into the hammock and curl up on my side, allowing Jace, my ever h.o.r.n.y fiance, to grab my b.u.t.t and slide his hand into my back pocket. When his bicep is relaxed it makes for a great pillow. Soon, watching the view from the slats in the balcony railing grows tiresome and I focus on the gentle swaying of the hammock in the breeze. My eyelids feel heavy and the last thing I remember thinking is how the weather in Sacramento is just perfect for a nap outdoors.

"Babe."

My eyes flutter open briefly before closing again. The sound comes again, a deep rumble of a familiar voice. "Babe. Wake up."

The words register in my brain and even though I don't really want to wake up from this glorious nap, I know I need to. Jace hovers over me, his dirty blonde hair glimmering in the glow of the setting sun. "Hey there," he says, smirking. "I can't believe you fell asleep."

"Sorry," I mumble. We're still in the hammock, so even when I try to roll over in an effort to sit up, my body just twists like an overturned turtle and I'm back where I started, pressed against Jace's chest. "How late is it?"

"It's six-thirty. I just heard my dad's truck pull into the driveway, so I figured we should get up. I don't want a lecture about how napping isn't healthy for someone my age."

This makes me try a little harder at getting out of the hammock, and this time I'm met with much less resistance. I swing my feet over the edge and stand up, offering a hand to Jace so he can follow my lead. "I definitely don't want my first time meeting your dad to be when I'm lying asleep with you. That's just...awkward."

Jace laughs. "Yeah, I didn't think about that." He pats his hair down and smooths out his shirt. "How do I look?"

"Cute," I say.

He gives me a sleepy smile and runs a hand through his hair. "Guess I'll take that."

Jace's dad is practically an older clone of Jace. Which is weird, because it feels like I'm seeing into the future and getting a glimpse of what Jace will look like when we're in our late forties. Just like Julie had insisted on being called her first name, Jace's dad takes the same approach.

"Call me Gary," he says when Jace introduces us. His smile reaching his eyes. "Mr. Adams makes me sound like an old man."

"You are an old man," Jace says. Gary is an inch or two taller than Jace is, and this is the first time that I can recall seeing Jace have to look up to someone. His dad slugs him in the shoulder for his old man joke, and then he looks back at me. "Jace told us you were pretty, but he didn't say how pretty."

I know he's just saying it because that's something dads say to their son's girlfriends, but it makes me smile like an idiot regardless. "Thanks," I mutter, taking a step closer to Jace. For a moment, I feel like a little kid who wants to dart behind her mom and cling onto her leg to hide from the grown up who is talking to me. But my mom isn't here in Sacramento with me. I'm an adult now and I have to face my fears head on.

"So what's for dinner?" Gary asks, silencing his cell phone for the third time in as many minutes. "I'm starving."

"Italian?" Julie asks.

"Oh my G.o.d, yes," Jace says, practically salivating over one single word. "Is that cool with you?" he asks me. I nod. "I could eat anything."

"Italian, it is!" Gary says. "I'm turning off this d.a.m.n phone now. Stupid things aren't worth the effort."

"Who keeps calling you?" I ask.

"Work junk." He waves his hand as if the callers aren't important enough to name. "But I don't have time for that tonight. Tonight is all about spending time with my new family member."

We all climb into the Escalade again, only this time Jace's dad takes the pa.s.senger seat and I get to share the backseat with Jace. I'm really starting to wonder why I had been so nervous to meet these people in the first place. Jace is the most loving, understanding person I've ever known. It only makes sense that his parents, the people who raised him to be the man he is today, would share the same personality traits. After days of anxious worrying about meeting his parents, I finally feel like I can relax.

That is of course, until we get to the restaurant.

Chapter 15.

I don't even realize it at first. After parking in the back of a crowded parking lot at what Julie a.s.sures me is one of the best Italian restaurants in the state, I hang back to allow her to tell me about her favorite dishes while Jace and his dad walk up ahead of us. I don't really pay attention to the thin, well-dressed girl walking in close proximity to my fiance. After all, this is a busy restaurant and people all around us are heading toward the hostess stand outside, or walking back to their car after eating dinner. A girl walking next to Jace is not a big deal.

But then, while Julie is gushing about the chicken parm, I notice the wave of silky honey-colored hair swoosh to the right. The girl smiles and gets a little bounce in her step as she walks. Then she touches Jace's arm.

She. Touches. My. Fiance.

Julie's voice fades into background static as I stare at the girl just a couple yards ahead of me. Tunnel vision takes over and all I can focus on is her perfect hair and her perfect calves protruding out from the shortest d.a.m.n shorts ever. She's talking and laughing and acting as if she and Jace are the best of friends. Who the h.e.l.l does this girl think she is?

And why the h.e.l.l hasn't Jace turned around andoh. Okay, then.

Just as I was thinking it, Jace's steps slow and he turns around, extending his right arm toward me, waiting for me to catch up. The girl slowed down as well, but she took one look at me, and then another, and then looked back at Jace.

"It was cool meeting you," she tells him, before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and parting off toward the outside seating area. Jace's parents walk around us and head toward the hostess stand to reserve a table for us. I feel bad about having ignored Julie for the last few minutes, and I hope she hadn't said anything that would have made it obvious that I wasn't paying attention.

"Old girlfriend?" I say. I smile like I'm joking but I know we both know I'm completely serious. What can I say? I'm a jealous paranoid freak and Jace already knows this so he should know what he's getting into by now.

He shakes his head. "Just a fan."

"A fan, eh?" I lift an eyebrow. "A fan of...being your ex-girlfriend?"

He laughs. "You don't have anything to worry about babe. She asked if I was Jace Adams and I said yeah and that was about it."

I narrow my eyebrows. "I don't think I like California girls."

He grabs my hand, locking his fingers between mine. "Neither do I."

Dinner gets a little awkward just after the food arrives. Jace's dad has had a gla.s.s and a half of wine and it makes him more talkative than all the rest of us put together. "So are you guys going to stay in that cowboy state forever?"

"You know what's weird?" Jace says in response to the question. "I haven't seen a single cowboy in Texas. It's seriously disappointing." He doesn't even seem affected by the way his dad talked about my home state, but I'm a little offended about it. I mean, sure we have a reputation for being cowboys, but that's really not what the state is like anymore. We're regular people. And besides, what exactly does he mean in asking if we're staying there forever?

"No cowboys, eh?" Gary takes a sip from his wine. "Sure seemed like it when I was there."

"Just because Grandfather was a cowboy doesn't mean everyone else is," Jace says. "Look at Bayleigh. She's as city girl as they come. Took me forever to get her to stop fretting over her hair and makeup at the track."