I let out a breath. “Yeah. The only pet I’ve ever owned was a goldfish—arguably the pet with the shortest lifespan. It barely lasted a year.”
He winces. “I’d never even owned a pet before Fergie, but the shelter made sure I knew what I was getting into.”
“How did he end up at the shelter in the first place?”
“His previous owner couldn’t care for him anymore, so he surrendered him after only a year. He didn’t expect a parrot to be so much work,” Callum says, shaking his head.
“Wait, a year? So, you’re telling me Fergie stayed at the shelter for over twenty years?”
“Yeah.” He nods, then takes a slow sip of his drink. “They found him a few homes over the years, but they never lasted. The new owners would bring him back after a few months. I think the longest he stayed with someone before me was fourteen months.”
My heart breaks for little Fergie being bounced around like a worn-out toy. “That’s so sad, and cruel. But I’m glad you found each other. How did you meet him?”
“We were doing a charity thing for the club at the shelter, and we got to meet the permanent residents. Fergie was supercharged, singing and dancing, but I don’t know—I felt bad for him. They told me how long he’d been there and that he was kind of a handful. Then, he pooped on Archie’s head, and I was sold.” He grins.
My eyes widen. “No!”
“Oh yes. Couldn’t let him go after that.” He nods, his eyes gleaming. “Why do you think the guys never come to my place? Foolproof solution.”
I throw my head back in laughter. “I bet that’s the funniest meet-cute the shelter has ever seen.”
He frowns. “Meet-cute?”
“You know, when the two love interests in a novel meet in a funny or unexpected way.”
He arches an eyebrow. “And the love interests here are Fergie and me?”
I nod firmly, barely repressing a smile. “Yep.”
Before he can retort, the waiter brings us our food, and the heavenly aromas wrap around me. Suddenly, I forget all about their funny meet-cute as I’m swept away by the comforting, herby warmth of my soup. The minestrone is rich with tomato, soft carrots, and just a hint of garlic. “Mmm, thank you so much for bringing me here,” I moan. “This is delicious.”
He clears his throat. “Told you. Best Italian place in London.”
“So, you mentioned you had a brother?” I ask after a few more spoonfuls of my soup.
“Alec, he’s younger.”
“Does he live in Scotland too?”
Callum rolls his spaghetti on his spoon and takes a bite. “No, he lives in the London suburbs, but he’s a Formula 1 driver, so I probably see him less than I see my parents.”
“Impressive. Your parents must be proud, having two high-level athletes in their family.”
He shrugs. “Sure. My dad’s a big F1 guy, so he’s ecstatic. Football isn’t really his thing. Mum likes it better, but probably only because it’s less dangerous.”
I grimace. “Yeah, I get that.”
“What about you?” He rests his forearms on the table, the candlelight catching the scruff on his jaw. “Any annoying siblings?”
I shake my head. “Only child. I always dreamed of having a big sister growing up. Then I met Roxy, and it kind of came true.”
He tilts his head. “I didn’t know you two were that close. How did you meet?”
I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “At a grief support group. We both lost our mums when we were young, and our dads became friends.”
He closes his eyes. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Millie.”
“Thank you,” I say, offering a gentle smile. “I wish I could have known her, you know? But my dad really stepped up after that. Honestly, he’s the best person I know.”
