"Ok, (Y/N). I expect to see you and Christian there, and don't forget the apple pie!" Your mother ordered from the other end of the phone, explaining that she is having a family dinner this Saturday night so that your family can officially meet your boyfriend Christian Yelich.
"Yeah, I gotcha, mom. See you then." You acknowledged, eager to get off of the phone. A loud pitch beeping noise lets you know that she has ended the call and you let out a deep sigh. I love my mom, but sometimes she can be a handful.
You start by searching through the seemingly endless piles of cookbooks, remembering that you slid your great grandma's pie recipe between two of the pages.
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After finding the recipe and making a quick run to the grocery store, the cooking has finally begun. You were known in your family for being a terrible chef, nearly burning the house down on multiple occasions with your easy bake oven as a kid. But you were determined to prove them wrong.
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"Crap, crap, crap." You struggled to get the pie out of the pan. It crumbled and caved into itself, leaving you in literal tears. After hours and hours of tirelessly baking, you were surrounded by pies galore. But each one of them had a defect. You forgot to put apples in one of them, you doubled half of the recipe in another, one was burnt to a crisp, and the list goes on and on.
At this point, you had flour all over your face and pie crust all over your apron from an explosion from the mixing bowl. After wiping your hand on a kitchen towel, you toss it aside, knowing that you will be back to clean up the mess that you've created later.
You sat on one of the bar stools and laid your head onto the kitchen counter to take a quick nap, but were interrupted by Christian opening the front door to your apartment.
"Babe, I'm home!" He shouts to let you know he made it back from practice. "I'm in the kitchen." You squeak, knowing that he will laugh at the pitiful state you are in.
"What smells so good...?" He stops mid-sentence after seeing the mess you've made.
"Woah, what happened in here?" He joked, scanning the array of failed pies that lined your countertops.
You just stare at him to let him know how stressful the day has been for you. "How would you feel if we just went to the grocery store and bought a pie?" He comforted you, knowing that you would agree willingly.
You nodded your head in defeat, sticking out your bottom lip, pouting. He kissed your forehead and walked out the same door he entered only moments earlier. "I'll be back in twenty." He preached while giving you a little wave.
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"Are you sure you're ready to meet my family? They can be a lot to handle." You asked him as if he had a choice. You were standing on the front porch of your parent's house mentally preparing him for the horrors that might come as soon as you open the door.
"I'm as ready as I'll ever be." He confirms, giving you the ok to knock. After only a single knock, you are greeted by your mother who is acting uncharacteristically friendly.
"Hi, (Y/N). Oh, you must be Christian. I'm Tara." Your mom says while extending her arm to the male.
"It's a pleasure to meet you." Christian replied, gladly accepting the handshake.
"Well don't just stand there, please, come inside."
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After a couple of awkward conversations with your parents and thousands of questions for Christian from your dad. Your mom pulls you aside to help with getting dinner ready.
"He's really cute, (Y/N). A keeper if you ask me." Tara smiles while pulling the lasagna from the oven. You smile, glad that your mom is so accepting of your boyfriend.
You help her carry the dishes full of food into the dining room for the four of you to indulge in.
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After stuffing ourselves with food, your mom reminds you about the pie that you were supposed to bring. You excuse yourself and bring it into the dining room from the kitchen.
Handing everyone a piece, you can't help but feel guilty for lying about the true origin of the desert. Beads of sweat line your upper lip as you can't imagine the trouble you would get from your mother if you were caught lying.
Everyone grabs a fork and digs in. "Wow, (Y/N). This tastes exactly like my grandmother's recipe. I'm impressed" Your dad says, making you nearly spit out your bite of pie in both surprise and relief.
