The engagement party was my mother’s idea. Naturally. She brought it up over coffee one morning while I was sitting with her in her home kitchen, going through the place setting options. She’d thumbed through a catalog of china and stemware before stopping on one particular page and sighing. “Oh, this is almost like what your brother and Melissa had at their wedding! It was so elegant.”

I glanced at the catalog. “I don’t think we can handle that kind of elegance.” I could just imagine paying to replace broken plates that were literally edged with gold.

“No, it’s not your style, I know. But Melissa’s mother loved it. She bought them an entire dining set in the same pattern for their wedding. We still talk, you know.” My mother absently flipped the page. “I send her recipes. She’s kind of hopeless in the kitchen, but she keeps trying, bless her heart.”

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that my mother was still in touch with her ex-in-laws. She’d kept up with my fifth-grade teacher and the woman who’d lived next to us all through my childhood but moved away a decade ago. Her address book was a thing of legend. “That’s nice of you.”

She shrugged. “It’s what you do for family. I have to say, I was a little nervous to meet Melissa’s parents, but the engagement party helped a lot. It got the introductions out of the way so that when the wedding came, we could focus on making sure everything went smoothly and wouldn’t have to worry so much about whether or not we’d get along.” She glanced over at me. “You and Andreas are having one, aren’t you?”

“Well, we weren’t . . . planning on . . .”

“Oh, honey.” She reached out and touched the back of my hand. “Trust me on this one, you don’t want to meet all of his family for the first time right before your wedding. That’s a surefire way to get you day drinking.” She frowned a little. “When you kids were younger, I used to be sorry that we didn’t have a big group of aunts and uncles and cousins to spend time with. These days though, I’m just as happy that we’ve got fewer people to deal with. It makes things easier to focus on you and Andreas and the kids and not give a damn what anybody else wants.”

I dramatically touched her forehead. “You, swearing? Are you day drinking already?”

She blushed and batted my hand away. “Of course not. I’m just . . . happy things are going to be a little easier this time around. Your brother’s wedding was lovely, but Melissa’s parents were pretty hard to please.”

If my mother thought that someone else was hard to please when it came to wedding planning, that said something. She had a point about the engagement party, though. I really didn’t want to spend the night before my wedding wondering if Andreas’s parents wanted to shank me or if poisoning was more their style.

I tried to argue we couldn’t afford the party, though. Because seriously, if the wedding planner suggested one more must-have detail—or OMG Must have!!!! in Shayna-speak—our credit card debt was going to start rivaling the GDP of a small country. Only in the red instead of in the black.

“Your dad and I will pay for it,” Mom said. “Consider it a wedding gift. Or, well, another wedding gift since we already bought—” She waved a hand. “We’ve got you covered, sweetie.”

And who was I to tell my mother no?

So . . . engagement party. My part was easy: all I had to do was invite my parents and—done. For Andreas, it got a little more complicated. Emily, Lisa, and Erin were here, but Ben and Casey lived a few states away, closer to their mother and stepdad. All four of them were flying in together and staying at a hotel downtown. Andreas’s parents were coming in for the weekend and leaving on a Monday red-eye—keeping their trip mercifully short, according to him. Erin, because she was fucking awesome, was picking them up from the airport.

Andreas teased her about taking the heat off us by introducing them to her boyfriend Zach while they were out here. “I bet even your grandmother can find something wrong with him, even if he is a handsome surgeon.”

To our surprise, Erin didn’t play along. “There’s plenty wrong with him,” she announced. “Like his inability to remember to tell you when he gets emergency-called into work and you end up spending an hour waiting for him in a restaurant, eating breadsticks by yourself like an idiot and wondering why he isn’t texting back, until one of the nurses—not Zach, it was one of his nurses who heard his phone buzzing and recognized my name—calls you up and tells you he’s going to be in the OR for at least the next five hours. And then you go back to your apartment by yourself and eat a pint of his favorite ice cream instead because fuck him if he gets to enjoy that goddamn mint chocolate chip when he left you hanging like that!”

Andreas looked dumbfounded. I laughed, which got me a dirty look before I explained that I wasn’t laughing at her, I was laughing because she sounded just like her dad. “You usually don’t, that’s all.”

“Being nice and sweet comes in second to getting respect from my boyfriend.”

Trouble in paradise, but I had faith that Erin and Zach would work through it. It was all part of getting the hang of living together. Especially since people of Ruffner lineage weren’t always the easiest people to live with.

Didn’t I know it.

Anyway, Zach and Erin would figure things out. Meanwhile, I had an engagement party to attend, and despite my begging several deities to make time go by slower or stop altogether, the clock kept ticking, and the party was tomorrow. Fuck.

And tonight?

Tonight I was meeting my soon-to-be-in-laws for the first time. And yeah, I was scared shitless, especially since I’d had it drilled into my head my whole life that first impressions were critical. I wasn’t even at the restaurant yet, and I was pretty sure I’d already blown it.

After all, it was just my luck that a long and chaotic week at work had come to a head yesterday when Andreas and I had gone to question a person of interest. It went to shit, of course. The details didn’t really matter except for the part where the dipshit had decided to run, and since I was the half of this partnership who hadn’t recently had my ankle reassembled, I got to chase his dumb ass.

I caught him—duh, I caught him—but he put up a fight. By the time Andreas showed up with the car, his service weapon, and that very hot—er, intimidating—cop voice, I had a bloody nose and a distinct throb around my left eye that said, Guess what’s gonna be purple this weekend?

“Perfect,” I muttered, staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Andreas was in the shower, and I had to wipe away the condensation every few seconds to keep myself in sight. I could open my eye, which was a plus, but it was still swollen and cradled by a purple-black crescent that probably wouldn’t hurt as much if I stopped prodding at it. It was hard not to, though. Like I had to make sure there was still feeling—Yes, oh my God! Ow!—and needed to inspect it constantly to make sure it wasn’t getting worse. Not like it could look much worse.

A little louder, I said, “This fucking shiner is really going to impress your mom.”

“You shouldn’t worry too much about that, Darren.” He sounded so casual. Like it really didn’t matter, even though, hello, it so did.

“I shouldn’t?” I glared at the shower door. “Why not?”

“Because they’re going to find a reason to complain no matter what. It might as well be for something obvious like a black eye.”

I glumly watched my face fog over again. “That doesn’t really make me feel better.”

“Wait until you meet them before you decide how much you want their approval,” he said, cryptic enough unless you knew Andreas. I could hear the fatigue in his voice, and knew that as tiring as our long week had been, it had nothing on the prospect of dealing with his folks.

I opened the shower door and pulled him into a kiss, ignoring the hot spray and the way it stung my face. “I don’t want their approval nearly as much as I need yours.”

“You’ve got that,” he said, tucking a hand behind my head and holding me close for another kiss. I was about to get in the shower with him, clothes and all, when he pulled back and tapped my cheekbone, just below my growing bruise. “Ice this.”

“Really? You want me to pick ice over a hot shower with you?”

“If it means the difference between you being able to see or being half-blind, then yeah, I do.”

Damn it, I hated it when he had a point. “Fine.” At least he softened the blow with another kiss before closing the door again.

I iced my stupid eye while I finished putting myself together for dinner. By the time we left, I was on my second ice pack, and I didn’t feel any better. The throbbing in my face still sucked, and my brain was still running in circles over how I was going to make it out of this dinner alive.

“You’re quiet,” Andreas noted after a while.

“Wow, you should be a detective.”

“Why are you so quiet, smart-ass?”

“Just . . .” Anxious, worried, wondering how I’ll measure up, hoping everybody gets along, wishing I was more like what your mom wants for you so everyone could be happy instead of dreading tonight and the damn party and the wedding and— “Thinking. About dinner and the party tomorrow.”

He squeezed my thigh. “Worrying about it?”

“A bit.” Ha ha, understatement.

“Why? Isn’t like you’ve never met my ex-wife.”

I snorted. “Yeah, that’s it.” Please. Marcy was just about the most fantastic ex-wife anyone could ask for. It hadn’t worked out between her and Andreas, but they’d stayed close because of the kids and turned into pretty good friends. They were tight enough that it didn’t seem weird at all for her to come to our engagement party, which was nice. I figured we could use the support. “Just . . . um . . . your mom.”

Andreas sighed. “Yeah. I feel ya.”

I twisted around a bit. “You’re supposed to have some sort of sarcastic encouragement so I can relax.”

“Sorry. Now I’ll be wringing my hands right there with you.”

“Oh.” I closed my eyes. Yeah, this whole weekend was going to be a blast.

“That’s her, isn’t it?”

Andreas glanced at the dozen or so people milling in front of the restaurant, then at me. “You can pick my mom out of a crowd at twenty paces?”

“When she’s the only woman in the crowd who’s both old enough to be your mom—”

“Hey!”

“—and looks like she’s trying to kill one of us with her mind?” I nodded sharply. “Yeah. I can.”

He gave a quiet grunt that might’ve been a laugh. “Which one of us do you think she’s trying to kill?”

“You tell me.”

This time it was definitely a laugh, but a half-hearted one. As we started up the steps leading to the restaurant, Andreas cleared his throat, and when he spoke, he sounded way more cheerful than he usually did. “Hey, Mom. Where’s Dad?”

“He’s inside,” she said tersely. “Talking to the manager so we can get seated on time.” The silver-haired woman clicked her tongue. “Our reservation is at seven, and the hostess insists we won’t be able to sit down until a quarter after.”

Any other time, I would have fought back a laugh. Righteous indignation over first-world problems amused the hell out of me . . . except when it was the future mother-in-law I was trying not to disappoint. That she already had her nose out of joint before we’d even arrived didn’t bode well for me. Good thing Andreas had driven tonight, because I was so drinking.

He and his mother shared a stiff hug, complete with an awkward pat on his back, and as he let her go, he gestured at me. “Mom, this is Darren. My fiancé. Darren, this is Louise. My mom.”

Louise shifted her attention to me, gave me a down-up so critical I almost started squirming, and then zeroed in on my left eye. “What happened to your face?”

And hello to you too.

I didn’t bother extending my hand since she obviously wasn’t interested in formalities. “Occupational hazard.”

Her eyes narrowed and darted toward her son. Andreas rolled his. Neither of them said anything, but it seemed like they were speaking volumes with just their eyes. I was glad I wasn’t privy to that mother-son telepathy. And with the visible tension building in Andreas’s neck and shoulders, not to mention the perma-scowl crevices deepening between his eyebrows, I decided I could forgo the booze tonight. He probably needed it more than I did, even if it didn’t mix well with his meds.

A tall man stepped out of the restaurant’s front door, and just like I’d zeroed in on Andreas’s mom, I knew instantly this was his father. Fatigue radiated off him, probably from traveling this morning. Or maybe just from at least forty-some-odd years with Louise. What pinged my radar, though, were the eyes. Andreas had definitely inherited his father’s intensely focused blue eyes.

Andreas smiled more warmly at the sight of his dad. “Hey, Dad.” They did one of those manly handshake-hug things, and then Andreas touched my shoulder. “This is Darren. Darren, my dad—Joe.”

“Nice to meet you, sir.” I tried to hide my nerves as I offered a handshake.

He took it, clapping my shoulder as he did. “Good to meet you too. And call me Joe. Nobody calls me sir.”

I smiled as we shook hands. Andreas’s personality was quickly beginning to make sense. His dad was friendly and warm. His mom was . . . his mom. Mix those together, and you got Andreas—not overly patient, not overly warm, but with a kind heart. He could be a real asshole when he wanted to be, but he’d give the shirt off his back to a stranger and walk through fire for someone he loved.

“Well?” Louise demanded. “What did the manager say?”

Joe made a placating gesture, and in an even tone—one I recognized from Andreas using it on his kids—said, “They’re setting it right now.”

She huffed like she’d been looking for a fight and was disappointed it wasn’t happening. “Did they say why there was such a delay?”

Such a delay? I arched an eyebrow, but quickly schooled my expression. Fifteen minutes is “such a delay”?

“They had a waitress call in sick and a larger party stayed longer than they expected,” Joe said with unwavering patience. “They’re working on it, dear.”

Louise sniffed, and I could also see where Andreas had gotten his scowl. “We have a reservation. I don’t want excuses.”

“Mom.” Andreas sounded just like his dad. “They’re working on it. It isn’t like we have to be anywhere after this. Just relax, all right?”

They exchanged near-lethal glares.

Before either of them could argue, the buzzer in Joe’s hand lit up. So did his expression. He waved the glowing plastic square. “Looks like they’re ready for us.”

Louise muttered something. Andreas rolled his eyes, and I thought I felt more than heard a low growl escape him.

As we filed into the restaurant, I slipped my hand into his and gave a little squeeze. He turned to me and offered a faint, apologetic smile. I squeezed again, hoping my smile was more convincing.

“You’ll be fine,” I whispered under my breath. “They leave on Monday, remember?”

Andreas exhaled. “Oh thank God.”

I laughed. He did too, elbowing me playfully, and we continued across the restaurant behind his parents.

While the waitress took our drink orders, I stole the opportunity to surreptitiously compare Joe and Andreas side by side, and . . . yep. That was my future father-in-law. He was an inch or so shorter than Andreas, and he had more lines, but the angle of his jaw, the shape of his nose, the way he set his shoulders—it was like looking into Andreas’s future. Full head of hair too. Entirely gray, which might have been genetics and might have been marriage, but his hairline hadn’t receded at all. Nice.

Andreas eyed me. “What?”

I blinked. “What?”

His eyebrow arched, and I realized I’d been grinning.

I quickly sobered. “Nothing.”

The eyebrow didn’t move.

“So, Darren.” Louise’s voice made me sit straighter. I fought the urge to swallow as I met her steely eyes across the table. And damn if she didn’t do the same eyebrow thing her son did. It wasn’t nearly as endearing, though, especially when she coolly said, “I’m very curious about what happened to your eye.”

I swear I could feel Andreas gritting his teeth beside me. Out of habit, I put my hand on his leg under the table. Usually that calmed him down, but the muscles turned to steel, and I realized a second too late that his mother’s laser focus had shifted to my arm. Her lips thinned with palpable disapproval.

Clearing my throat, I withdrew my hand and folded my arms on the edge of the table. “It was, uh, just a suspect who got riled up.”

“I see.” Her gaze shifted to Andreas. “And where were you during all of this? I thought the two of you were partners.”

“We are.” Andreas touched my leg just like I’d done to his a moment ago, and his eyes dared his mother to say anything about it. When he spoke, his voice was even but icy. “Darren is faster than I am. He chased the suspect down and tackled him.”

“Nicely done!” Joe beamed. “You give as good as you got, kid?”

I didn’t even mind that he’d called me kid, and chuckled. “I got in a few hits, yeah.” I gave Andreas an affectionate nudge with my elbow and didn’t bother looking to see if Louise disapproved. “Probably would’ve gotten in a few more if somebody hadn’t shown up and put the fear of God into him.”

“Oh yeah?” Joe asked with a laugh.

“Yeah. This guy pulls a gun and uses his cop voice, and pretty much everybody does what they’re told.”

Joe laughed again, heartier this time. “That’s my boy.”

Andreas . . . actually blushed. And it was fucking adorable.

I couldn’t resist. “Seriously, you should see it. He gets someone cornered and tells them to jump, they all say, ‘How high?’”

“If you’d known him as a boy, you’d never have believed that.”

“Dad,” Andreas said in a warning tone.

Joe gestured dismissively. “Oh relax.” To me, he said, “He was about as shy as they came when he was a kid. I was worried about him, honestly. Took him to self-defense classes because he wouldn’t stand up to the kids that were bullying him.”

“Bullying—” I blinked. “Bullying him?”

Andreas’s cheeks were so red they were probably visible from orbit.

“Oh, he was picked on all through school,” Joe continued. “I told him to stand up for himself, but he was too shy.”

My jaw was hanging open. “What . . . what changed?”

“Growth spurt,” Andreas said into his water glass. “When we came back to school in seventh grade, I was suddenly taller than everyone. And bigger.” He shrugged. “They backed off.”

“And you finally had a backbone.” Louise hadn’t spoken in a while, and her interjection cooled the nostalgic warmth at the table. “You learned to speak up and not let them walk all over you.” Most parents would be proud of that. She sounded like she was still annoyed it had taken him so long.

Joe sighed and, like Andreas, sought some refuge in his glass.

I glanced around, trying to figure out how to lighten the mood again. Finally, I nudged Andreas. “This is karma, you know.”

He looked at me, eyes wide. “What?”

“For being so thrilled when my mom showed you pictures of me trying to grow facial hair.”

Andreas laughed. Like, really laughed. He took his hand off my leg, wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and kissed my cheek right there in front of his mom. “But you were so cute with all that nonexistent peach fuzz.”

My face burned, but it was worth it to have him smiling again. The sacrifices I made for the man I loved.

Joe seemed to go with it too. He relaxed, and after a moment, gestured at his eye. “Darren, did my boy ever tell you about his first shiner as a cop?”

I sat up. “No.”

Andreas groaned, and now I was definitely intrigued.

Joe smirked. “That was, what, eight months after you got out of the academy?”

“Six,” Andreas muttered.

“Right. Six.” Joe shook his head and laughed. “He was on a call for . . . a noise complaint, wasn’t it?”

Andreas nodded, rolling his eyes.

“After they’d taken care of it, he and his FTO were talking to the homeowners, and their dog comes into the room. Andreas went to pet it, and it jumped up . . .” Joe made a gesture like he was punching himself in the face. “Clocked him right in the eye.”

I laughed, clapping a hand over my mouth. “You got a black eye from a dog?”

Andreas glared at me, but even he chuckled. “To be fair, she was a big dog. And the owner said she was friendly.” He shrugged. “I just didn’t think she was that friendly.”

“That’s . . . insanely adorable. Just FYI.”

His cheeks got redder. Which was even cuter. I suddenly wanted his dad to come up with more embarrassing stories just so I could watch Andreas squirm.

But then Louise reminded me she was still here. “Your timing could have been better with that black eye.” She tsked. “His cousin was getting married two weeks later, and Andreas was a groomsman. Every single picture . . . that damn black eye.”

“Oh come on, Louise.” Joe sighed. “Everyone thought it was funny. Did you hear all the stories people came up with to explain it? It was like a game.”

Andreas laughed dryly. “I still think my favorite is that the stripper head-butted me when she jumped out of the cake at the bachelor party.”

We all laughed. Louise didn’t.

“It wasn’t funny,” she spat. “It was embarrassing, and looked terrible in the wedding photos.”

Joe and Andreas both deflated.

The waitress rescued us by showing up with our drinks. “And have we decided on what we’re going to eat?”

Wait . . . we hadn’t even ordered yet?

Oh God. This was going to be the longest dinner ever.