Thanks Mam.
‘He’s quite the catch. I bet he’s an animal in the bedroom.’ A girlish giggle peels from her lips.
Cillian splutters into his hand, coughing through his recovery.
I snigger. ‘Mam, this could be your future son-in-law!’
‘Precisely!’ She throws her hands up into the air. ‘It’s essential he knows what he’s doing down under. Imagine being married to a man who had no idea what to do with it! Thankfully, your father …’
‘Okay, Mam. That’s enough.’ I hold a hand up to silence her. ‘I don’t think Cillian’s quite ready for those details yet. Not without copious amounts of alcohol, anyway.’
‘Who’s for a glass of wine?’ Dad rubs his hands together, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
‘Yes please.’ Given the tone pre-dinner, I’ve got a feeling I’m going to need it. Though not as much as Cillian. As his jaw winds tighter and tighter, I begin to relax. My parents like him. They wouldn't tease him if they didn't.
‘Did you not have enough on Friday?’ Cillian’s sharp eyes flick to mine.
‘Trust me. Take a glass of wine. You’ll need it when these two really get going.’ I nudge my dad and he guffaws.
‘Let’s go through to the kitchen.’ Mam finally releases Cillian’s arm, and his shoulders sag in relief.
‘So, Cillian. Tell us about yourself. What do you do?’ Dad asks as he uncorks a bottle of Malbec. The scent of rosemary and garlic permeates the air in the brand-new kitchen dad installed earlier this year.
‘I’m a lawyer.’ Cillian gratefully accepts the glass that’s handed to him. Wise decision. He won’t be driving for ages.
‘Oh, that’s impressive.’ My mother squeals. ‘What kind of law?’
‘I’m a divorce specialist.’ Cillian’s tone is clipped, defensive almost.
‘Oh.’ Mam and Dad lock eyes across the room discreetly telepathing their surprise.
Mam glances to me and shrugs. ‘They do say opposites attract.’
‘Cillian has a daughter. She’s called Phoebe.’ I watch on as he squirms, but he needn’t worry. There will be no judgement from Frank or Penny Jackson. They love kids. They wouldn't care if Phoebe was conceived on a threesome in Vegas with an Elvis impersonator and a stripper - as long as she’s loved. ‘I haven't met her yet, it’s still early days, but hopefully in the new year.’
‘How wonderful. That’s something to look forward to.’ My mother’s eyes light with excitement. ‘How old is she?’
‘Six going on sixteen.’ Cillian treats us to one of his rare genuine smiles. My breath catches in my throat. That smile could light up the city.
‘Is her mother around?’ My mother asks, stirring a steaming pot of gravy on the stove.
Cillian flinches, as if he’s remembering exactly why he’s here. ‘I have full care of Phoebe. Her mother is … unreliable.’
‘Wow. That’s remarkable. It can’t be easy, juggling a big job and a daughter.’ My dad tilts his head, taking Cillian in again.
‘It doesn’t leave time for much else.’ Cillian rests against the kitchen countertop. He’s braver than me. I know what those two animals get up to in here.
‘So how did you two lovebirds meet?’ Mam’s eyes dart between us. I cross the room to stand next to Cillian in a faux show of togetherness.
‘Cillian filled in my sign-up form at HeartSync.’ I touch his forearm in what’s supposed to be a casual gesture, but fire that ignites in my underwear is anything but casual. It’s explosive.
‘Oh, how wonderful.’ Mam abandons the gravy and clasps her hands together. ‘That’s so romantic.’
‘Oh, Cillian is the most romantic man I’ve ever met.’ I can’t help myself. All nerves have evaporated. Being in my childhood home provides a security I haven't felt since I met Cillian. It’s time to have some fun. ‘When I saw how he answered the “describe your perfect first date” on the questionnaire, I just knew he was special.’
Cillian bristles next to me, his eyes narrowing into a glare.
‘Oh, what did he write?’ Mam gushes.
