At least in that context, I know what to expect. I have something to offer. With your parents …” He shrugs. “I don’t know how to impress them.” I reach over and squeeze his hand, turning to face him as I stop at a red light. “It’s not about impressing them.” When his gray-blue eyes meet mine, they’re stormier than usual, with a vulnerability that makes me ache. “I want them to approve. I want them to like me. I don’t know how to make them do that.” “You don’t need to make them like you. You don’t need to make anyone like you. It’s not something you can force. Just be yourself, and I promise,
...more
