“He has dinner with his parents every Sunday.”
Mum’s expression becomes gooey. “A family man? He sounds perfect. How old is he?”
I close my eyes. I’m going to get grilled, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I open my eyes and smile. “Twenty-nine.”
Mum’s expression falters. “That’s quite the age gap.”
“Six years. It’s not that much, Mum.”
Mum looks at Dad.
He shrugs. “They’re both adults.”
“I suppose all that matters is that he’s nice. He is nice, isn’t he?”
“I think so.” He’s amazing.
“How about tomorrow night?”
“For dinner?”
Mum laughs. “Yes.”
“Um, I can ask.”
“Let me know.”
Which means she wants me to text her the moment I get to Kyle’s. Or better yet, text him to ask.
“I’d better go.”
“Can’t he cook?” Mum asks as I pick up the glass box.
“Yes. But he’s working, and I’m not right now. Plus, he has rugby practice tonight, so the last thing he’s going to want to do is cook.” I’m not going to mention he has a freezer full of homemade-ready meals.
“He’s a rugby player?” Dad asks, straightening.
“Yes. In an amateur squad.”
Dad’s shoulders slump. “Ah, no free tickets to see the Leeds Rhinos, then.”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Evan,” Mum scolds.
Dad resumes the washing up.
“Don’t forget to let me know if he’s coming for dinner tomorrow. If that’s not convenient, he can come any night this week.” Which is her way of saying that Kyle’s not going to be able to turn down her invitation.
“I will. Thanks, Mum. Love you.”
* * *
Kyle greets me with a kiss.
I reply with a wince. “My parents want you to come to dinner, and they won’t take no for an answer. Mum suggested tomorrow evening, but they’ll make any evening clear for you.”
“They—? Wow.”
