Her gaze travels from my toes to my face. “Nice to meet you, Anton.” She offers her hand. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”
“All good, I hope.”Though I’m notably not getting a hug.
“Of course,” she says in a way that is polite and yet somehow not reassuring.
Freya breezes between us with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “There are muffins and juice. We need to leave soon for the hospital, but Anton figured you two would need a bite first.”
Freya ushers her family to the dining room table. It’s all open plan, so going to the kitchen is no escape from Faith Johnson’s eyes pressing firmly into my back as I grab the food.
I pour juice and try to gauge the temperature of the room now that I’m facing them. Lita’s warm and chatty, and instantly wants to know more about me. “Freya told me you have your own private investigation company?”
She looks at me inquisitively over her glasses.
“That’s right, but I recently decided to change gears. Late-night stakeouts aren’t how I want to spend evenings once the baby comes.”
Lita glances at Freya, making an expression that tells me she thinks what I said was sweet.
Mrs. Johnson seems unaffected by my commitment and sips her juice like she’s tasting for poison.
“So what’s changing gears mean?” Lita asks.
“I…” am suddenly feeling hot under the collar.
I’m acutely aware that my being financially stable might not be Lita’s question, but by the interrogation in Faith Johnson’s eyes, it’s hers.
There are no short answers that will reassure them, but I’m not one to spill my past, and explaining to them how and why I’m okay with money is not something we can get through in the twenty minutes we have before leaving for the hospital.
I aim for sincerity because that impression is worthy, too. “I’m a craftsman by nature and something of an entrepreneur, so I’m starting my own woodworking business.”
Freya intervenes with supporting detail. “He’s making our baby’s crib.”
At that, I get an adoring gaze from Lita.
Faith isn’t moved, so I add something in for her sake. “I have plenty of startup capital, and there’s no rush to turn a profit. It’s important to me to have a job that gives Freya flexibility in her career and me time with the baby.”
Faith’s features relax.
It cools my nerves.
Lita folds her hands together on the table. “Frey, that’s a good man, there.”
I don’t deserve admiration for organizing my life around the baby and trying to be a supportive partner. Women do that every day without an ounce of praise.
Faith wipes her hands on the napkin she’s laid on her lap, even though she still hasn’t tried any food. “Workshop space would be very expensive in LA.”
Freya’s head whips around, and she meets her mom’s gaze. “I told you, Mom, that Anton and I haven’t talked about where we’re living.” She says the line as though it’s a warning against anything else to come.
Her mom purses her lips, very much getting the memo, but it’s easy to see that Faith Johnson isn’t used to taking a backseat. Thankfully, for me, she does in this moment, and I appreciate that.
I can only imagine how hard this is for her. Her only daughter is pregnant and possibly never moving back to LA, and it’s not as if Faith can leave due to her job.
“So today’s scan,” Faith says, “have you two discussed it?”
“We’re finding out the gender,” Freya says.
Lita shimmies her shoulders as if that excites her.
“I mean the important things,” Faith explains.
