"Splash more?" He asked as he lifted the half-filled coffee pot.

I gaped at Tom over the rim of my mug. "This Sunday?"

"This Sunday. Five o'clock," he repeated cheerily as he slid the mug from my hands and topped it off.

"Dinner at five o'clock... with your family," I recited slowly.

"Well dinner at six and drinks at five, but yes."

I stared at him a moment longer before finally snapping. "Tom, it's Friday!"

"It is," he agreed affably as he replaced the pot on the machine's stand.

I leaned my forearms against the cool counter. "And you didn't think to give me a bit more notice about meeting your parents?!"

Tom grinned down into his own steaming cup, shaking his head in silent laughter.

I frowned.

"Is something amusing to you?"

"Just that you're fretting about meeting my parents of all people," he chuckled before taking a slow sip.

"Of course I'm nervous to meet them!" I practically shouted. "They're your mum and dad! Who else would I fret over?"

Tom took a final swig of coffee before turning to rinse it in the sink.

"Leave it," I sighed. "I'll do the washing up later."

He shrugged acquiescingly. "My uncle and aunt will also be there."

I groaned. The bloody King and Queen of England.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" I practically whined.

"Because then you would've fretted for weeks rather than days—"

"Weeks?" I started. "Tom, I could've had time to prepare!"

He shook his head again, still grinning. The bastard. "There's nothing to prepare, Ems. It's just my family."

I leaned back and crossed my arms haughtily. "Yes, well, I'd like to make a better impression than I did meeting Charlie the first time."

"None of them will be holding your lingerie, so that's a positive start," he grumbled as he slipped on his suit jacket.

I sighed as I reached over and straightened his lapel. "Not like they haven't seen it anyways..."

Tom caught my hand swiftly and squeezed it. "No one judges you for those pictures, Ems."

"Still, not exactly a 'positive start'," I grimaced.

Tom leaned down and planted a kiss on my forehead.

"Cynthia and Charlie will both be there," he offered as if it might make me feel better.

Surprisingly, it did.

I inhaled deeply and nodded. "You're late for work."

Tom glanced at the clock mounted on the wall behind me and cursed. "I am. I'll see you tonight for dinner?"

I rolled up onto my toes to kiss him.

"It's a date," I mumbled against his lips.

Tom groaned. "Tomorrow we are spending the entire day in bed."

The second the front door clicked shut, I lunged for my phone.

"If I were to meet the King and Queen, what would you dress me in?" I rushed in the second the line picked up.

"A ball gown," Trisha answered dryly.

"Be serious!"

"Well, what's the occasion?"

I hesitated, my mind drawing a complete blank. "Dinner?"

"What kind of dinner?"

"I don't know, but I doubt it involves carryout boxes!"

"That's it?" She practically laughed. "That's all the context you've got for me?"

"Dammit, Tom..." I muttered as I pinched the bridge of my nose.

Trisha hummed in agreement. "Want me to call him?"

I frowned. "What for?"

"Figure out the dress code. Kick him in the rear. Whatever you want," she offered.

I grinned at my friend despite my rising tide of anxieties. "Thank you, but no. I'll handle it."

"You sure?"

I inhaled deeply. "Yeah, I'll call you later."

"Let me know if you want help getting ready!" she practically sang before we disconnected.

Despite Trisha's best intentions, her sense of humor had the tendency to rile me up more than calm me down. I knew if I spent any time with her on Sunday, it'd be a miracle if I didn't down the whole drink cart from nerves.

I hesitated, considering the phone in my hands, before dialing the one person I knew who could help.

"Emma!" Cynthia's voice chirped through the line in greeting. "I heard you're joining us for Sunday dinner."

I opened and closed my mouth in surprise. "And when exactly did you find out?"

"Oh never mind that, what's important is that you'll be there! Attending dinner is a very big deal in our family, you know."

I stirred the now cold coffee in my cup. "Yeah, I'm getting to sense that..."

"You needn't be nervous. I'm sure you're well prepared."

I flinched at the sound of typing in the background. She was busy at work—probably with the refugee program—and I was bothering her with my self-absorbed panicking.

"See, that's just the thing I was calling about," I said hurriedly. "I really don't think I am."

Cynthia laughed. "You're being too modest again. Stop that or one of these day's you'll really start to believe the things you say."

"I mean it, Cynthia." I pressed, rolling my eyes at the increasingly pathetic sound of my voice. "I never went to finishing school. I don't know proper etiquette or—"

"You've been attending events for ages now and you're a natural at making people like you."

"I just do whatever you and Tom do, a-and I just say whatever you tell me to say! It's more like acting than anything else. And besides, the people there are, well, they're..."

Suddenly the typing stop and I could hear the phone jostling slightly.

"Commoners?" she supplied kindly.

I sighed. "Look, I'm not naïve. I know I haven't made the best first impression on your family."

"Emma—"

"Those pictures were everywhere, Cynthia. I just... I just want your parents to like me. That's all."

"And they will." Her voice had changed to a soothing tone one might use to nullify a hysterical child.

"You can't know that—"

"Emma," she cut me off, laughing again. "The moment they see how ridiculously happy Tommy is just standing next to you, they won't be able to help but approve of you. That said... there are a few pointers I can give you for my mother... and my grandmother."

I exhaled in relief. "You're a lifesaver, Cynthia. Really I owe you."

"We'll add it to Tommy's tab."