Find Me Alastar

Oh no. They let him in and Mark has headed straight to my room. He was supposed to call me so I

could come down when he got here. If he tries to kiss me, I’m going to have to tell him how I really feel

before we even get to the restaurant. I tentatively open the door and he smiles warmly.

“Hello, Emerson.” He seems nervous.

My stomach drops with guilt. “Hello.” I smile and quickly pick up my coat and bag, hoping we can go

immediately.

“I have bad news.”

“You do?” Oh, please tell me you don’t like me and save me the job of telling you.

“My parents are here.”

“Huh?” I frown.

“They are in the car downstairs.”

“What?” I frown. Is this a set up? I’m breaking up our impending relationship with you tonight, stupid.

I don’t want your parents to see it.This material belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

“They called and are going home early tomorrow and asked if we could do dinner. I thought it

wouldn’t hurt for them to come and meet you.”

“Huh.” I fake a smile. This is getting worse, now I’m meeting the parents and breaking up on the same

night. “Great.” I push out. “Can’t wait.”

We get to the car and his father is sitting in the front, so Mark opens the back door for me to climb in

the back next to his mother. “Hello.” I smile awkwardly as I fall into the seat.

“Oh, hello, Emerson.” His mother smiles warmly. “My name is Eleanor”

I can’t help but smile. She is a large lady wearing a floral daggy dress with stockings. “Hello.”

I smile nervously. She gestures to the front seat. “This is my husband Albert, but please, call him

Bert.”

“Hello, Emerson.” His father turns in his seat to shake my hand. Oh no, his parents are sweet country

people.

Why am I such a frigging bitch?

His mother grabs my hand and holds it in hers. “We have heard all about you, dear, I just couldn’t go

home without meeting you.”

I fake a smile.

“Mother.” Mark shakes his head in the rearview mirror at her. “Don’t scare her off.”

My eyes turn to look out of the window. Holy hell. This is the world’s biggest cock up. Why don’t you

like Stephanie, you dip shit?

We arrive at the restaurant and go in. “Booking for White.”

“Yes.” The waiter scribbles on his booking pad. “Right this way, please.”

We follow him as I look around the space. The restaurant is huge with three split-levels. A bar sits on

the top tier, and then there are seven steps down to the next level, and around the same drop down to the

bottom floor. We are seated in front of the huge arch windows in the middle level. Mark pulls my seat out

for me and I take my place. I need a damn drink and I need it quick.

Eleanor is the first to speak. “So, you are an Australian.”

“Yes.” I smile bashfully. “Where are you from?” I ask.

“Originally from here, but we now live in Scotland.”

“Oh.” I smile. “I’ve never been. It’s supposed to be beautiful.”

“It is. It really is.”

The waitress comes and takes the drink orders.

“This is your first time over here, isn’t it, Emerson?” Mark asks.

“Yes.”

“You should go to Ireland, too,” Bert announces. “Beautiful place, You should take her there, Mark.” I

fake a smile and wish the ground would swallow me up. I do want to go to Ireland but I want someone

else to take me to meet his parents.

Jeez, as if that’s ever going to happen. Stop dreaming, fool!

We order our meals and I find myself drinking way too fast, but honestly, this situation is a total

nightmare. Mark’s parents are so nice and Mark is trying so hard. I’m not being fair at all.

Eleanor pulls out her phone and starts to go through it, showing me photos of her grandchildren from

Mark’s sisters. I sit and smile as she proudly shows them off. She is a lovely woman.

“And this child here…” She points to the screen. “Just like my Mark when he was a boy. So athletic.”

My eyes flicker up to Mark and he gently takes my hand under the table, holding it in my lap as he

looks at me.

Shit. What now? I don’t want to hold your hand. The waitress fills my glass again and I stare up at her,

hoping she can read my mind. I need something strong, bitch. Not fucking wine. I start to sweat. I need to

pay someone in that kitchen to give me salmonella poisoning right now-anything to get me the hell out of

here. Hospital would be a much better option.

“And this child here…” His mother goes on, but I have stopped listening to the family resemblance

that seems to be going on forever.

Our meals arrive and Mark, once again, fills my wine glass, welcoming my inebriation.

“Thank you.” I smile. He grabs my hand affectionately under the table and smiles adoringly at me. I

frown at him and gently shake my head. I don’t want you to hold my hand, and if your parents weren’t

here, I would pull away. Please read my mind.

The waiter arrives with a tray of drinks. “You must have the wrong table?” Mark frowns. “Our drinks

are already here.”