CHAPTER 7: MEANT

I suddenly wake up from a small nightmare due to some turbulence, and Mark notices. He takes a seat and checks on me.

"Are you alright?" Mark asks, looking concerned.

"Yeah, I'm okay," I respond, even though I'm not entirely fine. I don't want to encounter her again because of what Mark told me about his mom. It's been bothering me.

"Would you like something to drink?" Mark inquires to make sure I'm okay.

"Sure, just water," I request.

Someone hands me a glass of water a few seconds later, and I thank them.

"Are you feeling nervous?" Mark asks, not making eye contact.

"Well, kind of... Alright, quite a bit," I admit, secretly enjoying how he looks when I stare at him.

He finally looks at me and asks, "Are you checking me out?" This is unusual for him.

I start to blush. "Anyway, can't I admire the man who's going to be my husband?"

He chuckles. "Are you going to use that excuse every time I tease you?"

"No," I pause, and he thinks he's won the banter as he starts to walk away. "I'll just call you 'Mrs.' once we're married, 'husband.'" I struggle to hold back a smile.

He glances over and tries to maintain a serious expression but fails, breaking into a smile and a soft laugh, which makes me laugh too. "You're impossible," he says.

"There's nothing you can't handle." I turn around and look out the window, trying to enjoy the last 30 minutes of the flight.

"Can't this go any faster?" I mutter to the baggage conveyor belt.

"Don't worry, we'll get there," Mark reassures me as he puts his hands on my shoulders.

"You know my mom will ask about our relationship, and she won't be the most helpful," I mention, turning around.

"It's okay. We'll spend an hour at the hotel discussing the key points of our story," he says, and I nod, and he gives me a warm hug. "Don't stress about it; we'll be fine."

We continue hugging, and I'm starting to get used to showing affection in public (PDA). It works.

"Finally," I say as I turn around, seeing our bags on the conveyor belt. We retrieve them, hop in the car, and head to our hotel.

After checking in and taking our things to the room, I ask, "So, what should we talk about?" I sit on the bed, noticing that we'll be sharing it.

"Um, how about middle names?" Mark suggests.

"Mine's Savi," I reply, lying down and feeling exhausted.

"Thaddeus," he says, sitting in a chair at the desk.

"Hmm, favorite color?" I ask, simply because I'm running out of ideas.

"Really?" he questions, to which I shrug. "Alright, green."

"Mine's purple." I turn onto my stomach, ready to relax.

"You know, we could also discuss the basics of our relationship," Mark suggests, playing with a pen.

"Okay. When did we start dating?" I inquire.

"Shall we say three years ago?"

"That works. How did we meet?" I ask, noticing that Mark is jotting everything down as if he's writing a book.

"At a coffee shop. You forgot your wallet, and I was right behind you, so I paid, and we left," he says, making a funny face and waving his hands, which makes me laugh.

"Could it have turned out differently?" I wonder. Mark sighs and nods.

"Okay, just a couple more questions, and then I think we're ready," he says, pausing.

Before he can continue, I interrupt, "What was it about me that you liked?" I blurt it out quickly, worried he might not understand me.

But he did know. How do I know? Because he looked at me. Firstly, I did say something like that. I really like the way his eyes look, or maybe even love them. Secondly, his wide-eyed reaction shows that my question caught him off guard. "Uh... um... good question," was all he managed to say.

I didn't wait around to hear more from him. "I mean your eyes," I clarified.

"What?" he asked, seeking an explanation.

I continued, "Your icy blue eyes draw me in like a... like a predator luring its prey before capturing it. And how they brighten when you're happy and darken when you're sad, it makes me feel like I understand you better." Everything I just said was entirely true.

He must have been taken aback. "Anything else," he asked, doing his best to keep his composure.

"When we're together, you make me feel incredibly safe," I added. I noticed a hint of redness on his cheeks.

Wait, why is his face turning red? Am I blushing too?

"How about you? How did you come to love me?" I inquired, trying to shift the attention away from me.

"Um..." His face turned even redder. "I love that every day I discover something new about you. For example, I've learned that you dislike shopping malls or shopping in general. It feels like every day, I receive the perfect gift, something I want to cherish and use again and again. Or, I've observed how your eyebrows furrow and your lips curl inward when you're lost in thought." Even though he turned his face away, I could still see his ears and neck reddening.

We fell into a comfortable silence for a while. "Well, that's about it, I suppose," I suggested, thinking we should break the silence.

"Yeah, we should call your mom and let her know we're here and ready to meet her," Mark said as he stood up and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I'll grab my phone and call her," I offered, heading to my bag.

I retrieved my phone and dialed the number my mother provided in her letter. It rang, and I heard a voice, but it didn't quite sound like my mom. My mother's voice seemed a bit deeper.

"Uh, is this Elizabeth Cooper?" I asked, not wanting to seem crazy if this wasn't my mom's number.

"Stay put," the voice on the other end responded. I could hear someone else in the background saying something like "don't."

"Hello?" Now, I could tell it was my mother's voice.

"Mom?" I said.

Silence followed.

"Hello, Mom?" I repeated.

"Hi! Hello! Is it really you, Yanna?" she inquired.

"Yes, Mom, it's me," I replied. "I'm in New York now, staying at a hotel with someone." It wasn't a lie, but it also wasn't the whole truth. "I can't wait to meet you. Is that okay?"

"Of course, you can come over anytime you want. Do you need my address?" she asked.

"Yes, please. Thank you," I replied, trying to hide my anxiety. She gave me her address, and I wrote it down. "Alright, I'll see you soon."

"Yeah, I'm looking forward to it," she said.

"Yeah, me too," I replied with a forced smile, even though she couldn't see me.

"It'll all work out," Mark reassured me, giving me a big hug.

"This is what I meant," I whispered to him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, pulling away slightly.

"I feel safe when you do things like this," I confessed.

"This is something I'll probably have to do often," he said, and with that, we left the hotel and headed to my mom's house.

…

I can't help but nervously bounce my leg as we drive to my mom's house. Mark reaches out and gently stops my leg. "Hey, it's okay. Don't worry," he reassures me. I just nod but switch to bouncing my other leg.

Mark looks at me curiously. I shrug and admit, "I just can't stop. I've always been prone to nervousness. Just wait until you witness one of my famous nervous breakdowns."

"Well, you shouldn't have one today. We're here," Mark says as we arrive at our destination. I express my uncertainty, saying, "Oh gosh, already. I don't know if I'm ready or not."

Mark offers his support, saying, "It's okay. Right now, I'm here." I take a deep breath and respond with a resigned, "Okay."

We exit the car and make our way to the front door. Mark checks if I plan to knock, asking, "You're going to knock, right?"

I reply confidently, "Yeah, sure, no problem," but I find myself hesitating and not knocking.

Mark takes the initiative, saying, "Okay, I'll knock," before I can stop him.

A voice responds from inside, "Coming," but it's not my mom's.

When the door opens, I'm greeted by a girl who appears to be around 11 or 12 years old. She may have been the one who answered the phone. She politely asks, "Hi, do you need help?"

I'm momentarily speechless. Mark steps in and asks, "Um, does Elizabeth live here?"

The girl nods and says, "Yeah, I'll get her. Come inside." As we enter, I take a quick look around. She calls out, "Mom! Someone wants to talk to you! In a minute, she'll be down. Please have a seat," before walking away while fiddling with her phone.

I turn to Mark, feeling uncertain, and ask, "What should we do?"

Mark suggests, "Let's just sit," and that's what we do.

A short while later, my mom comes down the stairs, not yet looking up. She starts to speak, "How can I help you?" but when she raises her eyes and sees me, she abruptly stops and just says, "Yanna."

I awkwardly offer a simple greeting, "Hi," and Mark introduces himself, saying, "I'm Mark."

My mom seems surprised but friendly, saying, "I'm glad to meet you both. Please take a seat. Would you like something to drink?" She's clearly excited. I'm uncertain and reply, "I'm not sure, no, thank you. Uh, Mom?"

"Yes?" She responds eagerly.

I take a deep breath and confess, "Um, part of the reason I'm here, asking about the dress, is because I'm... engaged."