“Good boy,” Fergie chirps back, sweet and smug.
“See you in a bit, Fergie,” I say with a wave as we both exit the room.
From the stairs, I can still hear his cheerful voice echoing behind us: “Millie pretty! Millie pretty!”
Callum shakes his head, but there’s warmth in his eyes. “He does like to watch football,” he says casually. “Put the match on tonight, if you want. You don’t have to watch it yourself, but he likes to heckle the players. Especially me.”
“You two seem to have a great relationship,,” I say, my voice coming out unexpectedly soft.
“He grew on me with time, I’ll admit,” he mutters under his breath, as if he’s surprised by the truth of it.
“What if he gets sick?” I ask, my voice pitching up at the idea of being solely responsible for Callum’s only pet. “Who do I call? What breed is he? Does he have, like, an ID? A tiny parrot passport or something?”
Callum huffs out a laugh. “Relax. He’s a yellow-naped Amazon. And yes, he’s microchipped. All his info is right here.” He opens a drawer in the entryway and pulls out a neat little folder. “Vet info, medical history…”
I nod, absorbing each word as though I’m being entrusted with a very loud, very colourful child. “Okay. I got this. I’ll be back tonight to watch him.”
“Thanks again for doing this,” Callum says, his tone genuine. “If he gives you any trouble, just use your most menacing voice.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Not sure I have one, but sure.”
He looks down,chuckling. “You can text me before and after the match if you need anything, of course. Oh, and help yourself to anything in the fridge.”
After we exchange numbers, he hands me a key and tells me the alarm code. I repeat it back to him twice, just to be sure.
As he walks me to the door, I pause, hand on the knob.
“See you tomorrow, then?” I say, smiling. “And… have a good game.”
His gaze lingers on me for a beat longer than necessary. Then, with a nod, he rumbles, “Thanks. We’ll try not to lose. Though, if we do, at least one of us will be thrilled about it.”
From upstairs comes a proud, “You lose!”
We both crack up, struggling to rein in our laughter.
“Unreal,” I say, still chuckling as I step out into the soft drizzle.
Callum calls after me, “Don’t teach him anything new, okay?”
“No promises!” I shout back.
The door closes behind me with a soft click, but the smile stays glued to my face the whole way home.
Chapter 11
Millie
I spent the whole day editing videos and posting content across all our social media platforms for tonight’s match, and by the time I reach Callum’s townhouse, I feel like my eyeballs are pixelated. Still, I’m glad to be here, hanging out with Fergie in Callum’s cosy, oddly calming space. Mine’s still a work-in-progress, and aside from a few cushions and a round bed, it doesn’t feel like home yet. I’m not going to lie, though—I’m a little nervous. Because despite his size, Fergie is somehow even more intimidating than his dad.
I jog up the steps, unlock the front door, and carefully punch in the alarm code.
“Who’s there? Hello?” Fergie calls from upstairs in his raspy little voice, and I can’t help but smile.
“It’s me, Millie. I’ll be right there.”
He starts chanting “Millie pretty” in singsong while I tramp upstairs to stow my overnight bag in the guest room. The space is warm and inviting, with a soft rug that sinks beneath my socks, a bay window overlooking the street, and a small, attached bathroom. After setting my things down, I head to Fergie’s room, where he’s bouncing on a rolling perch, his feathers puffing out slightly in excitement as he catches sight of me.
“Millie pretty!” he shouts, wings flapping. “Play?”
