XXX CHAPTER 34 XXX

Emmett fiddled with the air vents, but no mere blast of cold air from the Volvo ventilation system could stem the tide of sweat breaking out on his forehead.

"Remind me how you talked me into this again."

Edward glanced across at his anxious passenger, the beginnings of a smile edging up the corners of his mouth. "I believe I mentioned my mother's red velvet cupcakes?"

"Damn, I'm a sucker for red velvet cake."

You're a sucker for me, Edward's smile told him, and hell if he wasn't right. Nobody was buying Emmett's story; he couldn't resist Edward's invitation to the intimate eve-of-new-job celebration his folks were throwing for him. "Nothing to be ashamed about," Edward joked.

"What exactly did you tell them about us?"

"Mom invited me to bring a friend along, and I told them I was asking you. The rest is yours to share or not share."

"You know I'm not ready to tell anyone."

"You know I'm okay with whatever you decide."

"You're out to your folks, right?"

Edward's soft chuckle answered the question for him. "Yes. I will take your secrets to the grave, but I'm lousy at keeping my own."

"It's sort of charming," Emmett told him.

"Whatever." Edward's embarrassed eye roll made Emmett smile. "It was no big deal to my parents, so I never really had a reason to lock myself in the closet."

"Yeah, my family's cool too, but they hate that I have to hide." With a sigh, Emmett shifted back to the imminent visit. "You do realize within five seconds of being in the room with us, they're gonna know."

Edward shrugged. "Not if you don't give me your I-want-to-pounce-you look."

"Hey, I was giving you that look for weeks before you figured it out."

The sound of Edward's laughter filled the car, lifting some of the doom and gloom weighing down Edward's chest. "My dad's a lot smarter than I am."

"Pfft, I hardly see how that's possible, Professor." Was Emmett egging him on? Sure. Edward was adorkable in proud son mode, and Emmett had a sneaking feeling Mom and Dad Cullen were going to be equally gushy over their son.

Edward gave him a knowing nod. "Oh, just wait."

Yes, this evening could definitely be entertaining, he decided. Emmett fingered the autographed picture of Robinson Cano he was holding in his lap. "You sure your mom is gonna like this?"

Shaking his head, Edward grinned. "Yes. Hopefully, she won't embarrass herself too badly. Be prepared for a gazillion questions. I apologize in advance."

"Aww, you don't have to apologize. Fangirl crushes are adorable."

Edward side-eyed him, barely shifting his gaze from the road. "That's gonna cost you, McCarty."

Cupping his hand around the back of Edward's neck, Emmett tickled his earlobe with a playful flick of the thumb. "I love it when you get fierce."

Edward gave him one of his long-suffering sighs, but the goosebumps under Emmett's fingers gave him away. "You better put your hand down," Edward said, drawing a low chuckle from Emmett.

"Why? Are you gonna break my fingers?"

"Nope," he answered, "because we're here."

XXX

Carlisle answered the door, extending his hand and gently welcoming Emmett inside. "Pleasure to have you here, Emmett."

"Thank you for the invitation."

Father and son embraced, pulling away with loud claps on each other's backs. "Does Mom know we're here?" Edward asked.

Carlisle rolled his eyes and leaned in to speak softly to them both. "Your mother has been in the kitchen for hours. She has this idea that the Mariners travel with a master chef, and she doesn't want to disappoint our guest."

"Oh, brother," Edward said. "You should see some of the crap he eats."

Emmett couldn't dispute the validity of Edward's remark, though the intimacy threw him off balance for a second. Emmett's food repertoire had most definitely "expanded" since he and Edward had started spending more time together. Lingering at the beach and enjoying brunch or an early lunch after their runs . . . grabbing the occasional late afternoon ice cream cone before practice . . . stuffing their faces with popcorn and Butterfingers while they watched a movie on Emmett's ginormous screen. They worked it all off in the bedroom—and the living room and most definitely, the shower—a little tidbit Emmett preferred to push from his mind right now.

Carlisle chuckled and gave Emmett a pat on his arm. "You'll eat well tonight. Come in, come in. What would you like to drink? Wine, beer, club soda?"

"Club soda sounds great, thanks," Emmett answered.

"And for you, Edward?"

"I'll take a beer."

"Okay, you boys relax, and I'll see if I can unchain your mother from the hot coals."

Carlisle exited, giving Emmett freedom to snoop. The framed photos lining the bookshelves caught his attention first. Edward trailed silently behind as Emmett studied each snippet of Edward's childhood. The first thing that became painfully obvious was that Edward had severely underrepresented his achievements. Edward groaned as Emmett picked up the frame displaying a younger, lankier version of Edward—same wild hair and intense green eyes—proudly clutching a trophy that was bigger than his head.

"Holy shit, man. Did you win Nationals? You kind of glossed over that little detail."

Edward gently but firmly grabbed the picture out of Emmett's hands and placed it back on the shelf. "Third place. Big difference."

Emmett turned to regard his very twitchy boyfriend, whose gaze was willing Emmett down to the end of the line of photos as powerfully as possible. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing. Reliving the awkward acne years . . . good times."

"I think you look adorable." Emmett chuckled, lifting the next photo, a shot of early-teenage Edward on the deck of a boat with his parents. "Where was this one taken?"

"St. Thomas. Two weeks on a boat every summer since I can remember."

"Hence your ease in the ocean?"

"Mmm," Edward said, stealing away the picture and adding a matter of fact, "and my skill with a fishing rod."

Emmett grinned. "Another sport for the patient man."

"You ought to try it sometime," Edward replied.

"Oh, I don't think so. Waking at the butt crack of dawn, impaling worms on hooks, numbing your ass on a wooden seat for hours? You might as well shoot me now."

Edward leaned in, nearly whispering into the shell of his ear. "Privacy and bathing suits . . . or not." He pulled away with a gleam in his eye. So, it was gonna be like that.

"You suck."

Turning from temptation, Emmett wandered to the game table across the room, where he found an exact replica—or so he presumed—of the game set up in Edward's house. "Here's where it all happens, eh?" Emmett studied the board, but the pieces refused to march forward in formation for Emmett the way they seemed to for Edward.

"Yep. It's my move," Edward said, raising the volume as his father approached. "Probably why Dad's trying to get me drunk."

"Pshhh. I think I'd need to ply you with a case of Stellas to give me any kind of chance."

Emmett caught Edward's eye. At least Edward knew when to bring out his sheepish look.

"I knew it."

Handing Emmett his drink, Carlisle asked, "Knew what?"

"Your son told me you were the superior chess player."

Carlisle's rich laughter rang out, and on its tail Mrs. Carlisle Cullen rode into the room. A stunning brunette, she'd clearly passed along her delicately-bowed lips and iridescent green eyes to her son. The squared-off jaw and strong nose came from Carlisle's side, and Edward's hair was some genetic outcome Emmett couldn't begin to explain.

Mrs. Cullen led with her hand, racing across the hardwood floor to greet Emmett. Giddy and eager, she lurched forward when her heel caught the edge of the area rug, and for one terrifying second, Emmett was sure the woman would wind up face-first in his crotch. Carlisle shot forward to catch her, but Emmett was closer, and his reflexes were better. He managed to lean in and scoop her up before the point of impact, dodging an intensely sketchy moment with his boyfriend's mother's mouth.

Emmett chuckled warmly. "You must be Mrs. Cullen."

"I'm afraid so," she answered as she righted herself, running her hands down her disheveled blouse and skirt. "And you're Emmett McCarty. My, you're bigger than you look on TV!"

While Emmett bit back laughter, Edward let out a giant guffaw, which Emmett met with raised eyebrows. Carlisle watched the entire scene with the same amused tolerance he'd shown his son in the locker room. Apparently, such displays were not uncommon with this family.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Cullen had gathered herself and was now blushing madly. "Oh dear, I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable. I guess I'm a little starstruck."

Emmett glanced over at Edward, who was hiding his face behind his hands. Like mother, like son. Emmett set down his drink and extended his right hand, and when she placed her smaller hand inside his, Emmett sealed the deal by clasping them both. "It's nice to meet you too, Mrs. Cullen."

"Oh, please, call me Esme."

"Esme," Emmett repeated with a nod. "That reminds me, I have something for you . . ." Pivoting in place, he reached for the photo on the coffee table. "My friend Robinson asked me to give you this."

Esme gasped, reaching for the photo with shaky fingers. Carlisle stepped in closer to his wife's side, prepared to catch her if she fainted. "It's signed 'Para mi amada, Esme,' and he drew a pair of hearts!" She quivered, clutching the photo to her chest.

Edward shot Emmett a no-you-didn't headshake, which he answered with a wink. Yes, I sure as hell did. Why not pull out all the stops to impress the folks?

Slipping an arm around his wife's shoulders, Carlisle said, "Easy, dear. You don't want to crumple your boyfriend."

Esme looked over at her son. "You arranged this?"

"I mentioned it to Emmett, and he took it from there."

Careful, Edward. That moony look on your face is going to do us both in.

"Well, thank you both," she said, tears pooling in her eyes.

"It's the least I could do," Emmett answered. "I understand you're a huge fan."

"I am!" she gushed. "Oh, I mean, I love the whole team, you included, of course . . ."

"Mom, just stop. Please," Edward begged.

Esme waved her son's concerns away. "Oh, Edward, I'm sure Emmett's used to this by now. He's a superstar, after all."

"You're fine," Emmett replied. "I do get the occasional overzealous fan"—Emmett glanced over at Edward and gave him a huge grin—"but it's all good."

"Well, I will treasure this. Bless your heart for asking Robinson for the autograph. Now, how about we sit down to dinner?"

XXX

"I'm going to have to speak to my running coach about adding an extra circuit to work off your risotto, but that was so worth it."

Edward set down his fork and chimed in. "Now you see why I had to start running."

Esme beamed back at Emmett as he rubbed his very full belly. "I'm so happy you enjoyed it, dear."

"I think you could give our team chef a run for his money, Esme. Except for the fact that we'd all turn into tubbos, it'd be a perfect arrangement."

Eyes bright with amusement, Carlisle leaned toward his wife across the square table. "Could you imagine it, darling? Serving Robinson Cano his meals before a big game? He'd be so grateful!"

Esme blushed a deep crimson as she reached for her wine glass. "You're terrible, Carlisle!" She gulped down half the glass before fixing her gaze on Emmett. "How about your girlfriend? Is she a good cook?"

"Uh—"

Edward cut in with a sharp shake of his head. "Mom!"

"What?" Esme's head shot from Edward to Emmett. "What'd I say?"

"It's okay," Emmett answered. "We broke up a few weeks ago." It had been several weeks since Emmett had felt like a lying coward, but the churning in his belly came roaring back.

"Oh, dear, I'm so sorry."

"To answer your question, Tammy's more of a take-out girl." Emmett put a smile on his face and prayed for the topic to blow over.

For the first time since they'd sat down to dinner, an uncomfortable hush came over the group. Emmett poked at the last few peas sitting on his plate, too stuffed to even consider bringing them to his mouth but too afraid to look up and see the awkward glances he was sure the Cullens were passing around.

Esme broke the silence. "If you all are finished, I'll go heat up the pie." She stood abruptly, banging her knee into the table and causing the silverware to rattle. Her face scrunched in pain, but she gathered her plate and utensils and took off without a word.

"You okay, honey?" Carlisle asked after her.

"Yes, I'm fine." Her false bravado carried from the kitchen, fooling no one.

"She should put some ice on that. Oh, look who I'm giving medical advice to," Emmett said with a soft shake of his head.

Carlisle acknowledged his remark with a grin. "I'm sure you have more experience with scrapes and bumps than I ever will."

"I bet Trey would know what to do," Edward said, drawing an eye roll from Emmett.

Emmett pulled in a deep breath and exhaled, wiped his sweaty palms on his linen napkin, and pushed his chair back from the table. "Excuse me, please," he said as he retraced Esme's path into the kitchen.

Slumped over at the kitchen table, Esme leaned on one elbow and stared out the window. Emmett approached from behind, doing his best not to startle her. "How's the knee?"

She jumped and spun around, hand on her heart. "Oh! Emmett! You scared me! I'll live. Why don't you go sit down with the boys and relax? I'll be out when the pie is hot."

Emmett's belly twitched, but he pressed forward. "Mind if I sit down?"

Her expression oozed confusion. "No, of course not."

Emmett sank into the chair closest to Esme and angled his body toward her. He opened his mouth to speak and realized he had no idea what to say. Edward would keep Emmett's secrets, but at what cost? Esme and Carlisle were good people who'd always supported their son, and Emmett was driving a wedge between them with his pile of lies.

Esme filled the void with more apologies. "I'm so sorry I didn't know about your breakup. I try to stay far away from those gossip rags."

"That's a good thing," Emmett said. "I wish everyone did, actually."

"Well, you know, some people have nothing better to do than to stick their nose in everyone else's business."

Emmett couldn't help smiling. "Tell me about it."

"Anyway, your personal life is none of my business, and I feel terrible for embarrassing you."

"You didn't. I'm the one who should feel terrible."

"Why is that?" she asked, leaning her folded arms on the table between them.

Emmett took a deep breath. "Mrs. C, there's something I would really like to share with you right now, but I need you to understand how much my privacy means to me. If this should get out, my career would be in serious jeopardy."

"Of course. Any friend of Edward's is a son of ours. Anything you want to share is safe here." Esme tapped the side of her head. "Fort Knox."

Exhaling a shaky sigh, Emmett continued. "I trust Edward, and Edward trusts you and your husband, and I don't want to carry on this charade with the two of you."

Esme scooted closer and placed her hand on Emmett's arm. "Dear, are you in some kind of trouble?"

Emmett chuckled, because yes, she could certainly say that. "No, no, it's nothing like that."

She waited patiently for him to explain, regarding him with utter acceptance simply because Edward had brought him home. "The thing is, Edward isn't just a friend."

"Yes, he told us about your running sessions. We think it's just lovely how you two have been working together."

"It's not just the coaching, Esme. There's . . . more to it." Come on, lady. Turn on the light bulb!

"I'm sorry, I'm not—oh! OH! You mean you"—Esme pointed her thumb toward the dining room—"and Edward . . . oh, how wonderful!" Esme jumped up and wrapped her arms around Emmett's neck, squishing him in a tight hug.

"Yes, ma'am, it is." Relieved that he'd unburdened them both, Emmett soaked in Esme's affection and joy.

Releasing him from the hug, Esme turned grave. "Oh dear, is that why you and your girlfriend broke up? Were you . . . are you . . . ugh, there I go again with the intimate questions! Never mind an old lady."

"It's okay. I understand. You don't want to see your son hurt. Maybe we should go back out and let Doctor C in on the conversation as well?" And Edward. Now that he was free to claim his boyfriend, Emmett needed Edward close.

"Yes, of course. Let me grab the pie first, or we'll be having burnt embers à la mode for dessert."

Emmett waited as patiently as humanly possible while Esme retrieved the cherry pie from the oven. Carrying a stack of plates and forks, Emmett followed an unnaturally bouncy Esme to the dining room.

In a high, chirpy voice, Esme announced, "Here comes pie!" She set down the steaming dish between her husband and son—both men regarding her with curious stares—gave Edward a peck on the cheek, and placed an oven-mitt-covered hand on her husband's shoulder.

Carlisle lifted his head to examine his wife. "Darling, are you feeling okay?"

"I am wonderful, but I think there's something the boys want to tell us."

Emmett exchanged a brief nod with Edward, conveying everything his partner needed to know. Edward's lips spread into a gorgeous smile as he rose from his chair and took his place at Emmett's side. Edward cleared his throat. "Mom, Dad . . . Emmett and I are . . ." Edward faltered, turning to Emmett to complete the sentence.

Emmett opened his hand and pulled Edward's fingers between his own. Giving his hand a firm squeeze, Emmett finished for Edward. "Together."

Carlisle raised both arms to the ceiling and shouted, "Can I get a hallelujah?"

In the aftermath of the chain hugging immediately following their revelation, Esme chided Carlisle. "You knew?"

"Don't forget, I was standing there when they first met. These two could've blown the roof off the clubhouse with the looks they were passing back and forth. Yes, I saw it, but I didn't know they'd have the courage to go for it. Hmm, come to think of it, Edward has been much calmer at the games."

"That makes two of us," Emmett said, tempted as hell to kiss those grinning lips right off his lover.

The statistician couldn't resist chiming in. "It's true. If you take a look at Emmett's ERA pre- and post-July 3, you can see a point six improvement!"

"Stop with the dirty talk, Professor! Jeez, your folks are standing right here!"

"Oh, my! Edward, your face is brighter red than my cherry pie!"

"Speaking of dessert," Carlisle said, "we should eat it while it's hot. Why don't you boys go in the kitchen and get the ice cream?"

God bless you, Dr. Cullen.

Emmett all but dragged Edward into the kitchen, flattened him against the refrigerator, and claimed those lips that had taunted him all through dinner. Edward opened for him, putting up no resistance as teeth and tongues clashed in a mad frenzy. As the intense rush eased its grip on Emmett's system, Edward's fingers pulled gently through his hair, soothing his lover back to the here and now.

Pressing forward once more, Emmett left one last, lingering kiss on Edward's mouth. "I guess we better get the ice cream now."

Edward chuckled. "We'll be lucky if we didn't just melt the entire contents of the freezer with that kiss."

"Sorry, I couldn't help it."

"That wasn't a complaint," Edward said, joining his hands behind Emmett's neck. "I'm so proud of you for coming out to my parents."

"I couldn't ask you to lie to your mom for another second. I don't know how you survived your teenage years in this house."

Edward shrugged. "I never needed to lie, which is why I'm so miserable at it."

"It's a really good thing to be bad at," Emmett said with a chuckle. "I'm sorry you're stuck keeping my secret. I'm sure it sucks."

Edward's smile widened again. "Yes, it does—nightly."

"That's it; I'm cutting you off. Any more dirty talk, and I'm not gonna be able to spend another minute without mauling you. Let's just get through dessert, and you can open that filthy mouth in the car and tease me all the way home, eh?"

"Sounds like a plan . . . unless you wanted to challenge my father to a game of chess?"

Emmett rolled his eyes. "I think I have my hands full with you, Professor."

Author's Note: Don't you wish everyone's parents were like this? And wasn't Emmett brave?

In case you missed it, there's a contest called Meet the Mate that's well worth checking out. All the entries are in (77 in total), and I've got one in there...somewhere. I'd love to know if you could identify my writing style (but I can't confirm or deny your choice until the authors are revealed). Voting starts tomorrow. Better get reading! Look up the author MeetTheMate here on fanfic and don't forget to leave some review love while you're there! Many authors are first timers, along with some of your tried-and-true favorites!

XXX ~BOH