By the time I realized what was happening, I was already halfway into my third “maybe” of the week with Gage, who had been showing up like it was his new full-time job.

    Never too much, though, and never demanding, just…consistent.

    Sometimes it was coffee from Envie.

    Sometimes flowers from Flora Savage down the street.

    Sometimes macarons from Sucre.

    Sometimes a bottle of vintage champagne from Effervescence.

    Yesterday, it wasce.

    Ivory, delicate but not dainty, with a pattern of wildflowers stitched so intricately, they felt real—petals unfurling, vines curling like secrets across the sheerting. It had frayed edges, uneven in ces, like it had survived something—a fire, a love affair, a century in a cedar chest, maybe all three. It wasn’t pristine and far from perfect, but it was undeniably beautiful, the kind of piece you didn’t sew into just anything—you saved it for something meaningful.

    “It reminded me of you.” His eyes were shining with warmth and affection. “Soft. Complicated. Worth holding onto.”

    “You’reyin’ it on thicker than powdered sugar on beis at Café du Monde,” Kadishamented, telling us she was eavesdropping from the boudoir.

    “Kadisha,” Gage called out. “you might want to stay there for a little longer. I’m gonna kiss my girl, now.”

    “Gross,” Kadisha eximed, but she gave us privacy while he did exactly what he said he would: he kissed me with tongue and heat and everything that made my brand-newcy panties wet.

    After that hot kiss, he asked me out to dinner on Friday, and this time, I said, “Yes,” instead of, “Maybe.”

    That evening we walked down Royal past Canal to the Roosevelt. He was taking me to dinner at Domenica, which was considered to be one of the best Italian restaurants in New Orleans.

    I liked the Roosevelt, partly because it was steeped in history and because it was beautifully haunting. Built in 1893, grand and gilded, you half-expected to see ghosts from old Mardi Gras balls leaning against the velvet wallpaper.

    We were about to walk into the restaurant when he slid an arm around me, holding me back.

    “What?” I asked.

    He brushed his lips against mine. “Now, don’t get yourcy knickers in a bunch as they say….”

    I arched an eyebrow, amused.

    He kissed my nose. “My parents are in there, waiting to have dinner with us.”

    I blinked.

    Hard.

    “The who?” I blubbered.

    He gave me a sheepish smile.

    “The what?” I added unnecessarily.

    “They want to meet you. Mama’s been not-so-subtly hinting for weeks.”

    I swallowed. Licked my lips. “Ah…they know about me?”

    He traced my lips with his thumb. “They know everything, baby. And they’ve been waiting for you to say yes to dinner with me so they can get to know you.”

    “But you didn’t give me a chance to say yes,” I pointed out.

    “I know. But you can say no. No harm, no foul. My parents are chill. And they’re actually expecting you to kick my ass.” He smiled. “You don’t have any family, you’ve told me—I’d like to share mine with you, if you’ll let me.”

    My heart twisted, then soared.

    I wanted to say no. No harm, no foul! But what came out was, “Are they gonna make me take a polygraph like in Meet The Parents?”

    My sense of humor got weirder when I got nervous. What can you do?

    “Baby, I’m serious.”

    “I know.” I sighed. “That’s the problem.”

    In the end, we entered the restaurant that elegantly walked the line between luxurious andid-back, where chandeliers flickered overhead and the scent of garlic and truffle oil drifted from the kitchen in warm waves.

    His parents hugged me, even before Gage could introduce us.

    “Oh, my goodness, you’re even more beautiful than he described,” his mother eximed, pulling me into a hug before Gage could get a single word out. She smelled like orange blossoms and wore dark red lipstick with the kind of confidence I envied. “I’ve been dying to meet you.”

    “Naomi”—Gage slipped a hand to the small of my back—“this is my mother, De Walker.”

    She held my hands like she already knew me.

    Then his dad stepped in and hugged me too, gruff, no-nonsense, warm. “I’m this moron’s father. You can call me Lou.”

    “He embarrasses me sometimes with how he goes around praising me,” Gage deadpanned.

    They were a striking pair—like a couple from a faded photograph you’d find in an old frame at an antique store, taken as they danced to Otis Redding in the kitchen.

    We ordered a bottle of Italian wine, which flowed as easy as the conversation.

    De was a retired nurse who volunteered with the New Orleans Historic Preservation Society. His father was a retired carpenter who had apparently taught Gage everything he knew about construction and the history of New Orleans.

    While we were eating our entrées and were already on a second bottle of wine—the Walkers liked their food and drink—De leaned in. “So, Gage tells us you own a lingerie shop?”

    “Aire Noire on Royal.” I felt a blush creep up my neck. I wasn’t embarrassed about my store, but these were Gage’s parents, and I sold crotchless teddies for the love of everything holy.

    “Oh, I love that name,” De gushed. “It sounds like something secret and decadent.”

    Lou raised a brow. “Gage said you had a thing at the Marigny Opera House.”

    I nced at Gage, surprised. “You told them?”

    He shrugged.

    De grinned. “He may not say much, but when he does, it’s usually about you. Or buildings. Sometimes both.”

    Lou sipped some wine, and there was something wistful in his expression. “That Opera House, though…. Gage, remember how you and I snuck in once when it was still just a wreck of a ce. He was sixteen, swore he could restore it if someone gave him a week and a sledgehammer.”

    “He’s been like that since he could hold a hammer,” De added. “You should’ve seen the time he tried to build a stool out of popsicle sticks.”

    “Hey—” Gage warned,ughing, but she kept going.

    De ignored her son’s consternation. “He hot-glued the entire thing together, then stuck it in the garage to cure overnight like it was concrete.”

    Lou chuckled. “Then turned on a space heater, putting that damn glued up stool too close to it. Nearly set the whole garage on fire.”

    “Oh no.” Iughed.

    This was a side of Gage I hadn’t seen before: the son.

    De winked. “We’ve got plenty more stories where that came from.”

    Gage let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Mama, she finally agreed to a date, don’t make her run for the hills, yeah?”

    “Oh, I don’t know,” I teased. “I think it makes you more…attractive.”

    They asked about my work, how I sourced my inventory, and how hard it was to run a business in a city where the weather, the foot traffic, and the plumbing could all turn on you in a second.

    Gage didn’t say much.

    He sat beside me with one hand on the table and the other on my thigh.

    He watched me the way a man watches the horizon—like something he’s been waiting for had finallye into view.

    And that’s when it hit me.

    That warm little crack in my chest.

    That flicker I’d been trying to snuff out with logic and fear.

    I wanted this.

    All of it.

    This family.

    This man.

    This messy,plicated, beautiful new beginning.

    And the scariest part?

    It didn’t feel like I was falling.

    It felt like I wasing home.

    The Walker family assault continued—when a few dayster, while I was folding bralettes, two young people walked in.

    “Hi,” said a tall, attractive woman in a cream romper. “You must be Naomi. I’m Ka. And this is Ryan.”

    I tried to ce them, and seeing that, Ka continued, “We’re Gage’s siblings.”

    “The smarter ones,” Ryan added, giving me a small wave. “Well…I am the smarter one, studying to save lives while she dances like she’s trying to kill them.”

    “I’m better at pirouettes than he is at sutures,” Ka announced dramatically.

    “Well”—I bit my upper lip, not sure how to handle this—“ah…how can I help you?”

    “We came to check you out,” Ryan said seriously.

    His sister punched his shoulder lightly. “You can’t just blurt stuff out like that.”

    I grinned. These two were adorable.

    “Our parents like you,” Ryan remarked like that was a peace offering. “And…Gage talks about you like?—”

    “Like he’s pussy whipped,” Ka interjected.

    I choked out augh.

    Ryan nodded. “It’s kind of annoying, honestly.”

    “He gets poetic when he’s in love…who would’ve thunk?” Ka smacked her forehead with her hand.

    They didn’t stay long—just enough for Ka to look at lingerie that Ryan threatened no sister of his would ever wear, to which she responded with an exasperated sigh. She bought a bra and panty set, which I tried to gift her, and then, when she declined, offered it to her at the friends and family discount.

    They hugged me before they left.

    The Walkers were a touchy-feely bunch.

    Who would’ve thunk, as Ka put it!

    “Your brother and sister came by today,” I told Gage that night over the phone.

    He’d started calling me every night to say goodnight if we weren’t together.

    “I know, she was raving about the lingerie.”

    “Your brother said, quote, ‘over my dead body’ when she tried to buy one of our more risqué teddies.”

    “Christ.”

    “Oh, please, it’s fine when I wear it, but your sister can’t?”

    “Christ,” he repeated.

    Iughed.

    “They liked you a lot.”

    Iy back on my bed, stared at the ceiling. “You’reying it on a little thick, Gage.”

    “Maybe.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “But only because it took me too long to figure out what I wanted. I lost you once out of stupidity; but I’m not stupid—so I’m not going to be making those mistakes again. I intend to keep you Naomi Lenc, if you’ll have me.”

    “The things you say,” I whispered, choking on my emotions, the feelings he was stirring up inside of me.

    “Naomi,” he said after a beat, “will youe to my cousin’s wedding with me? It’s in Lafayette.”

    Oh my God!

    “Gage—”

    “Baby, it’s gonna be very Cajun. Crawfish, zydeco, enough beer to drown a priest.”

    “But—”

    “Ryan and Ka will be there, and my parents really want to see you again.”

    “At a wedding?” I said hoarsely.

    “Yeah.”

    I pulled a pillow over my face and screamed into it.

    “Naomi?”

    “I’ll think about it.”

    “Fair.”

    “But if there are any guests who are of the alligator variety, I’m leaving.”

    “I’d never let you face one alone. Promise.”

    I didn’t say yes.

    But I didn’t say no either.

    Damn! I was back to maybe…which so far meant I’d be going to his cousin’s wedding.