Her parents sit across from us, and her dad is buried in his Blackberry. Her mom watches my subtle exchange with Trip, and she smiles at me. “Have your fall classes started yet, Logan?” she asks.

I take Emily’s hand and thread her fingers through mine, our palms facing each other’s. “Yes, ma’am. I started a week ago.”

“Shouldn’t you be at home getting your schoolwork done?” her dad asks suddenly, looking up from his phone.

“No, sir. I already did all my work.”

“What’s your major?” Mrs. Madison asks.

“I’m double majoring in Art and Advertising,” I say.

Emily tugs on my arm as she sits forward in her seat. “You should see some of his art. It’s really amazing.”

“Do you do paintings, Logan?” her mom asks.

“I use different mediums,” I say. “It depends on what fits the situation.”

She points to the tattoo on Emily’s wrist. “Like that one?”

“Oh, he didn’t do this,” Emily says. “His oldest brother Paul did this.” She strokes her hand down the inside of her forearm. “It was a surprise for Logan.”

“How did you two meet?” she asks. She tilts her head to the side. Something tells me that she already knows the story, but her husband has set aside his Blackberry and is listening now.

Emily looks up at me and blinks her pretty brown eyes. “I went into his tattoo shop to get a tattoo.” She grins. “And he put the moves on me.” She nudges me in the side. “Can I tell them what happened next?” I can feel her laughter against my side.

“She punched me in the face, Mrs. Madison.” I reach up and absently stroke across my nose.

“He tried to put the moves on me, and I was angry.” She shrugs, but she’s still laughing. “I’ll never forget the look on his face.”

“One minute I think I’m going to get to spend some time with a pretty girl,” I say. Emily squeezes my hand when I say “spend some time” because we both know I tried to lay her, just like I used do with every woman I met. “And the next, she breaks my nose.”

Emily laughs. She tugs my sleeve until I look down at her. “You never tried that move on anyone else, did you? After that?”

“You cured me of that particular move,” I say. I laugh because it’s funny now. It wasn’t nearly as funny then. It f**king hurt.

“Was it love at first sight?” her mom asks.

I look down into Emily’s eyes. I was intrigued by her the moment I saw that tattoo she wanted. There was so much in that drawing that made me want to get to know her. But she wouldn’t let me. “It was almost instantaneous for me,” I admit.

Trip jabs a finger toward his throat like he wants to make himself throw up, but I think I’m the only one who sees it.

“It took me a little longer,” she says. “He and his brothers let me stay with them for a little while.”

Her father arches his eyebrows.

Emily rushes on to say, “He slept on the couch and let me have his bedroom.”

Her father glares at me. I only slept on the couch for half of that first night. The rest of the time, I spent in bed with her. I didn’t have sex with her, though, not until she was willing to open up to me. She had too many secrets in the beginning.

“My family would like to have you over for dinner one night before you leave town. So everyone can meet.” I hadn’t told Emily that yet, but Paul brought it up. It’s a good idea.

“I think that sounds lovely, Logan,” Mrs. Madison says.

“Sounds like an interesting night,” Mr. Madison adds.

“I got my class schedule nailed down last week,” Emily says, changing the subject. Her father huffs, his chest bellowing with air.

“I hope it’s not going to be too difficult for you, dear,” her mom says. Emily stiffens.

“I’ll be fine with it.”

“Anything exciting with your music, dear?” her mom asks. At least she tries to look like she cares.

“There’s a big show coming up at the end of the week. I have to prepare an original piece to perform.” Her brow furrows, and I can tell she’s unsure about it.

“Sounds exciting,” her mom says with a smile. She tugs on her husband’s sleeve. “Doesn’t it, darling?”

He shrugs her hand off his arm. “Sounds like a waste of time.”

“Emily’s a talented musician,” I break in. I won’t let them put down her art. “You’ve never even heard her play.”

“And you have?” he shoots back.

“I might not be able to hear, but I can see the passion in her eyes and feel the joy in her heart when she’s playing, Mr. Madison.” I take a deep breath. “The crowd loves her. And she loves music. So, I love to watch her play.” I lean down and kiss her forehead. “I’ll be at your show, no matter what.”

She smiles up at me and lays her head on my arm.

“So will we,” her mother declares. I’m not going to hold my breath.

“I hope you’ll get this music idea out of your system soon and get back to real life.”

I stiffen, squeezing her hand.

“This is real life, Dad,” she says. “This is my life. And I’m living it the way I want.”

Her mother winks at her. “Let her be, darling,” she says sweetly. But there’s some steel behind her words, too, if her posture is any indication.