Four days after they arrived back in LA, Rome stood in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom, tying his tie. In the mirror behind him, he could see his wife, anxiously chewing her bottom lip, her bare feet sliding along the wooden floor, back and forth, her fingers digging into the floral blue bedspread.
“It’ll be fine,” he assured her, catching her eyes in the mirror. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
Ella didn’t say anything, and he couldn’t blame her. She’d already tried to talk him out of going to meet his parents a dozen times, and every time, he’d shot her down. Why bother to try again now when he was clearly set on going? He finished with the tie, smoothing the black fabric down along his white shirt and checking his cufflinks. He wanted to remind his parents that he was an adult, twenty-five years old, fully capable of taking care of himself.
