Foreman hated the uncertainty that made him look down into the salad he'd constructed to double-check that he hadn't included any of the verboten ingredients. He knew what he'd picked--walnuts, apple slices, and raisins, with some crumbled blue cheese to sharpen the flavour. It was best on spinach, but he'd taken mixed spring greens to be on the safe side. Might not be what the Volakises usually ate, but the salad wasn't the most controversial thing they'd be working to accept this weekend. If they couldn't take his choice of vinaigrettes, they were going to have a damn hard time choking him down.
Once Amber had taken her coffee, and gulped it down despite the hot contents, Foreman was able to carry his own coffee in one hand and the salad in the other, reducing the possibility of a disastrous spill. He relaxed enough to grin at her. On the verge of possibly getting every second of their relationship picked apart by vultures, he couldn't help looking at her like Hallmark's sappiest copywriters had invaded his brain. Her vehemence, and her annoyance at what her family might put him through, made up for a hell of a lot of his own nervousness. "We'll get through this," he said. "I know I'm not what they're expecting, but you can't tell me this is the first choice you've made that they might second-guess." He wished he could put his arm around her again as they headed back to the car, but there was too much to carry. "I know you're not going to let somebody else's opinion get in the way of what you feel."
It'd been a busy few weeks, and they hadn't exactly been spending every second together, but even so, they'd had their soft and tender moments. Times when the word love slipped out a little more often than Foreman could possibly consider safe. Even saying it made his chest tighten and a smile appear on his face, his stomach doing a ridiculous little flip; part of him hoped he never stopped feeling like he'd just parachuted out of plane when he said it. He climbed back into the passenger seat carefully, keeping the salad on his lap. "It's one meal, a few days. We'll be all right."
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Once Amber had taken her coffee, and gulped it down despite the hot contents, Foreman was able to carry his own coffee in one hand and the salad in the other, reducing the possibility of a disastrous spill. He relaxed enough to grin at her. On the verge of possibly getting every second of their relationship picked apart by vultures, he couldn't help looking at her like Hallmark's sappiest copywriters had invaded his brain. Her vehemence, and her annoyance at what her family might put him through, made up for a hell of a lot of his own nervousness. "We'll get through this," he said. "I know I'm not what they're expecting, but you can't tell me this is the first choice you've made that they might second-guess." He wished he could put his arm around her again as they headed back to the car, but there was too much to carry. "I know you're not going to let somebody else's opinion get in the way of what you feel."
It'd been a busy few weeks, and they hadn't exactly been spending every second together, but even so, they'd had their soft and tender moments. Times when the word love slipped out a little more often than Foreman could possibly consider safe. Even saying it made his chest tighten and a smile appear on his face, his stomach doing a ridiculous little flip; part of him hoped he never stopped feeling like he'd just parachuted out of plane when he said it. He climbed back into the passenger seat carefully, keeping the salad on his lap. "It's one meal, a few days. We'll be all right."