Dramatic, Mushy, Complicated Love

and a little angry, not that I expected anything else. My family made a habit of controlling every little thing I did, not only that, Kayla and Naomi were good friends. She had hoped for that to turn into sisters-in-law. Not a chance in hell. Even before meeting Meadow, that had not been a possibility. Naomi was nothing to me then, and definitely not now. Meadow changed that.
Fuck, I couldn’t wait to see her. Yesterday was still so fresh in my mind, every sexy sound. Her taste still firmly planted deep into my senses.
“None of your business, Kayla. Now, if you don’t mind, I have somewhere to be.”
“Yes, I heard. The twilight zone with someone named Meadow. I assume from the … ridiculous, but obviously female sounding name she is a woman?” Kayla demanded in her special condescending tone, one she reserved just for me.
“Yes, and that is all you are getting. We are new and getting to know each other.”
“But you are meeting her parents already? Does Mum know that you are seeing another woman? Does Naomi?”
“No, Mum doesn’t know, and Naomi has nothing to do with it because Naomi and I aren’t together and never will be,” I answered sternly, “make sure you get one of the crew to help you lock up the building and have them walk you to your car.” Leaning down, I kissed Kayla on the cheek then made a hasty retreat, ignoring the questions being fired at me as I fled. No way was I ready to share Meadow with Kayla. Mum, on the other hand … hell no. Not until I was sure she was in love with me and couldn’t live without me, and not run. Then and only then would I introduce her to my mother.
***
I steered my car around the corner one-handed, my other hand resting on Meadow’s thigh, her hand linked with mine. This part of town was older than where I lived, the houses 1950s circa, prefabricated weatherboards with the typical corrugated iron window canopies over the front and side windows. Once upon a time, these houses were the Aussie dream for the working class. An affordable way to get out of the cities and into the suburbs.
Our town was primarily split into three areas, the working class on this side, the city dwellers, and on the other side was the more affluent part, where I lived. My parents bought an Australian five-bedroom bungalow on the classier side of town, getting a huge mortgage and living frugally so Mum could have her dream.
Dad worked tirelessly to turn the run-down bungalow into the majestic magazine-worthy home it is today to make his bride happy. What started out as a fifty thousand dollar loan now morphed into a million-dollar investment.
“So, where exactly is your place, Luca?” Meadow asked in between giving me directions when to make a turn and when to go straight.
“I used to live in Webster Street, and now I live in a nice townhouse in Mill Street.”
“And your mum is still in the Webster Street house?”
“Yep, and my sisters too.”
“Right at the end of this street, so you left home but only went as far as two streets away,” Meadow laughed.
“Yeah, I guess I did,” I agreed with a chuckle as I followed her direction and turned into a no through road. “I have always loved the vibe of having the lake just across the street. The bustle of people and activities every weekend, and the dining is good too. There are five great restaurants just a short walk from my front door.”
“It’s the house right at the end, the one with the big arse prime mover in the driveway.”
Nodding, I looked down to where Meadow mentioned and saw that there was indeed a big arse prime mover sitting proudly and strangely not out of place in the drive of a neat but weathered and old wood-panelled house. The white paint was long overdue for a touch-up and the roof’s red paint was faded from the harsh Aussie summers. It was not unlike Meadow’s place, which was only five minutes from here.
“Have your parents lived here long?” I asked, parking the car at the end of the drive. Noting that there were three other cars parked behind and beside the truck.
“All my life. My brother was actually born in this house, the loungeroom, in fact. Mum swears the stain of the afterbirth is still on the carpet, and she will probably tell you that as soon as she gets you in there, but trust me, it isn’t.”
Shoving the gear stick into park, I looked over at Meadow worriedly and a little grossed out. “Are you sure?”
“As I said, trust me. Every time she tells that story to a visitor, Dad hires a carpet cleaner the next day and goes over the supposed stain. He really hates it when she tells people that.”
I wanted to feel relieved, but Ace’s smart arse warning played in the back of my mind. Somehow I got the feeling he was right, and I was about to walk into the twilight zone. Needing a distraction from freaking out, and because kissing Meadow senseless while sitting in the car out front of her parent’s house might not be appreciated by her dad, I instead focused on a question I had been meaning to ask her since yesterday.
“How come you say Mum and Dad, when you said you call your parents by their first names?”
Meadow widened her eyes at me for a second, then burst into a fit of giggles.
“Stalling tactics hey, okay, fair question. There are two answers to that; some people find it weird I call them by their given names. So, to avoid confusing people, I use one or the other, and two, well sometimes I just like to call them plain old Mum and Dad, ya know?” Meadow leaned over the console, her hand still in mine, and touched her lips to my cheek.
“They don’t bite, and