I pointed to the bacon. “Eat that and consider your life changed for the better.”

He picked up the pork, examined it and bit a small piece off the end. “Holy crap.” He took another bite then demolished the entire slice. “I might have to order another plateful.”

“You’re welcome. Is there a reason why your mom didn’t allow pork in the house?”

“She considered it inhumane to eat pigs since they are as smart as humans. Plus, she lived on a farm growing up and always got too attached to the animals her family raised.”

“Where did she grow up?”

“Amish Country.”

That was an unexpected twist. “Was she raised Amish?”

“Yeah. She met my dad during her Rumspringa, which in the Amish religion is when you venture into the world for the first time.”

“Seriously? How did they meet?”

He whacked a sugar packet against the side of table. Tearing it open, he dumped the white crystals into the cup. “They met at a coffee shop when their orders got swapped. She got his Americano and he got her full fat latte.”

“We met at a coffee shop too. Talk about coincidence.”

“Yeah but the difference is that you didn’t have to leave your whole family for me.” He said bluntly. “My mom chose my father over the only life she had known.”

“It seems like it has worked out.”

My comment garnered a smile. “It has. Their thirtieth wedding anniversary is this coming Friday. Would you like to come? I’m driving up to their vacation home and would love some company.”

I hadn’t met any of my boyfriends’ parents before. It seemed like a huge step reserved for when the relationship has passed the six-month mark. Andrew and I hadn’t even passed the two-week mark. Nonetheless, I would love to meet the people that shaped him into the incredible man he was.

Nerves jingled in my stomach. “Is your whole family going to be there?”

“Obviously my mom’s side won’t, but my dad’s side, my older brother, and my youngest sister will be.”

“You have siblings?”

“Yup.” Pride was held in his voice as talked about them. “My younger sister is attending Yale as a sophomore. She is crazy smart like my father. My older brother works as a master carpenter and builds these incredible homes for wealthy people.”

“You never mentioned them before,” I said.

Andrew shrugged. “Not on purpose. We are close but this past year has been insane for all of us and weekly phone calls have slipped.”

“Weekly phone calls?”

“We would conference call each other on Sundays.”

Andrew’s family sounded like they belonged in those TV shows I watched as a kid where every member, including the dog, was happy and they all wore matching sweaters for Christmas.

A random thought occurred to me. “Did your grandma also give them a chunk of change as well?”

“Yes. My sister can’t access it until she is twenty-one, while my brother sunk it into starting his own business. Why?”

“Just wondering. Sometimes money can breed resentment.”

“Nah we all got our equal share and even if we didn’t, that’s not the kind of family we are.”

Deception was my family’s motto. Once again, I was reminded how vastly different Andrew and I were. God, what I was going to talk about with his parents? My mom was dead, my job as a shot girl made me sound like a floozy, and I didn’t lean left or right politically. Panic flared.

The waitress came by and cleaned the dirty plates off our table. “Anything else?” she asked.

As my mouth opened to speak, Andrew jumped in. “Can we get another side order of bacon and a slice of apple pie?”

“We have bacon apple pie. Do you want that?” The waitress snapped her gum as Andrew stared at her flummoxed. “The crust has bacon in it,” she explained.

“I’m good.”

She turned on her heels when Andrew spoke again.

“Actually, can you scrap the side of bacon? I’ll just have the slice of apple pie instead.”

The waitress acknowledged his order with a death glare. “Anything else?”

“Nope.”

When she was gone, Andrew launched into a three-minute rant about how sweet and salty food groups shouldn’t overlap, which turned into a disagreement. I pointed out that salt actually brings out the natural sweetness in desserts. He said that made no sense because sweets are supposed to be sweet. We were in such a heated debate, the restaurant could have caught on fire and we wouldn’t have noticed. That was why the man standing next to our table had to clear his throat times before our gazes swung over to him.

Andrew’s face spilt open in a grin. “Brad!” He ambled out of the booth and wrapped this presumed Brad in a manly half handshake half hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too, dude! It’s been too long. What have you been up to?”

“Oh you know this and that.” Andrew said nonchalantly. “Did I hear correctly you got engaged to Becky?”

Brad’s meaty head bobbled up and down. “I had to. She was practically on her knees begging.”

Due to my couples of weeks working at Rogue, I had a pretty good read on men and could tell Brad was a frat boy who’d never mentally left college. Those were his golden years. You could tell by the way he peppered his sentences with ‘dude’ and made it seem as if his fiancée had roped him into marriage. The question was how did Andrew know him? Brad’s eyes lit up with interest as slid me a look. “This must be Camilla!”

Andrew coughed violently. Handing him a glass of water, I stood and plastered a smile on my face. “I’m Haven, actually. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh, my bad.” Brad let out an awkward chuckle. “This guy never updates his Facebook page.”

What did that mean? Was Andrew still listed as engaged on Facebook? It was weird I hadn’t considered googling Andrew. Normally by the time I’d met a guy for drinks his interests were checked and memorized. That way, there were no lulls in the conversation—like for instance, right now.

Brad rubbed his neck as his gaze fell to the checkered black and white tile.

I steered the conversation to neutral ground. “How did you and Andrew meet?”

“We were in the same frat,” Brad said. “I was his big brother.”

Today was full of insightful information about Andrew. Although, the frat thing did make sense. It was the classic tale of a nerd using his newfound hotness to indulge in everything he missed in high school, like parties and women.

“What frat?” I asked as if I had any clue about the Greek system.

Andrew regained his voice. “Phi Delta Gamma.”

Brad fisted his left hand, showing off a ring on his middle finger. The gold band flashed underneath the florescent lights. A black stone was in the middle with an engraved crest. My inner street kid itched to lift the expensive ring and resell it. I could probably get enough to cover the cost of my road trip.

“I haven’t taken it off since we got them.” Brad boasted. “How bout you, man? Do you still have yours?”

“Yeah, but it’s at my mom’s house. I didn’t want to lose it while I was traveling through Europe.”

“Makes sense.” Brad checked his watch and sighed. “I have to get going. Don’t be a stranger.”

The bell hanging above the front door jingled, announcing his exit. Andrew sat back down in the booth while I followed suit.

He cradled his chin in his hands. “That guy exhausted the hell out of me. Throughout those three years in college, I took more naps than was deemed normal. I blamed it on all the partying and pot use, but Brad is like a teapot on the verge of boiling.”

I chuckled at the accurate description of his friend. “He wasn’t that bad.” Andrew gave me a pointed look. “Ok fine, you’re right. Poor Becky.”

“His fiancée was a cheerleader for the football team. She can out-ra-ra him any day.”

“Sounds like they are a good match. Although, please don’t invite them for dinner if I’m around.”

“I wouldn’t subject you to that.”