“Some bloke he met via an adoptees forum.”
“Why do you know about this man, but I don’t?”
I wave at them. “Hey, I’m right here.”
My parents turn to me, eyebrows raised. Oh boy.
“Yes, it’s the guy I’ve been chatting to online for a while.”
Dad waves a soapy fork in my direction. “A year is more than a while. You didn’t mention he lived in Leeds or that you’d decided to meet.”
“Why didn’t I know about him?” Mum asks.
I secure the box lid and throw my hands up. “He’s just a friend.” Isn’t he? “I didn’t realise I had to give either of you a list of my friends.”
“A friend whose house you keep staying over at?” Dad asks.
“He lives in a flat,” I mumble.
Mum puts her hands on her hips. “Should we be offended you didn’t tell us you had a boyfriend?”
I widen my eyes. “He’s not—”
“You’re taking food to him and sleeping at his flat. Are you sleeping on his sofa or in his bed?”
My cheeks get hot. I look at the tiled floor, which must add fuel to Mum’s theory.
She comes over and wraps her arms around me. “Are you being careful?”
“Yes.”
“And he’s treating you right?”
I nod.
“Does he make you happy?”
I sigh. “Yes.”
She kisses my hair. “Then that’s all we need to know.”
“Except his name,” Dad says.
“Oh yes, we need to know his name.”
“I told you he’s not my boyfriend. We’re not dating. We’re—” I clench my jaw, take a breath, and unclench it. “Kyle.”
“That’s a nice name.”
“He’s adopted too,” Dad says.
“I gathered that from the way they met.” Mum lets me go and cups my face. “When are you bringing him around for dinner?”
I gape at her.
“Um—”
“How about Sunday?”
