The moment feels surreal, like I’m watching it happen from somewhere above myself. I step over the threshold and Callan releases my hand, immediately extending his to my mom with that disarming charm of his. It makes me both proud and a little bit nervous.
“Mrs. Smith, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he says, his accent thick and smooth as he hands her the bouquetof flowers he bought at the farmer’s market. “Thank you so much for having me.”
Mom beams at him, clearly charmed already. “Oh, please call me Shannon.”
The comforting scent of pot roast wafts from the kitchen, mingling with the familiar scent of Mom’s favorite candles. It’s cozy and homey, but it makes my stomach flip. It’s soothing and anxiety-inducing all at once.
“Honey, they’re here!” Mom calls out, her voice filled with excitement, and I hear my dad’s heavy footsteps approaching from the living room.
He appears in the entryway with hisprotective dadstance. His eyes land on Callan, and I can practically feel the evaluation happening.
“Well, well,” he says, his tone just shy of a challenge. “So you’re the young man we’ve been hearing so much about.”
Callan stands tall, looking every bit the part of someone who’s used to being sized up. “Aye, sir. I hope so at least,” he says, extending his hand.
Dad takes it, giving it a solid shake. “Strong grip,” he comments, a hint of approval in his voice. “Tom, by the way.”
“Callan MacKenzie, sir. Great to meet you.”
I stand off to the side with Mom, watching the exchange like I’m in the middle of a carefully orchestrated negotiation. Dad’s eyes narrow slightly, assessing him in that way I know too well. Then, as if he’s found a way to push just a little further, he asks, “Play any sports, Callan?”
Yep, here we go.
“Used to play rugby,” Callan replies casually, not missing a beat. “Still watch a fair bit.”
Dad’s face lights up. “Rugby? Always thought that was just football for people who didn’t mind dying young.”
Callan lets out a hearty laugh, his deep voice rumbling in the most endearing way. “Aye, something like that. You watch?”
To my complete shock, Dad nods back. “Watched a match once when I was stationed overseas. Took me half the game to figure out the rules, but damn if it wasn’t entertaining.”
And just like that, it’s like a switch flips. Suddenly, they’re sitting side by side on the couch, gesturing wildly at the screen as Dad pulls up a rugby highlight reel to stream. They’re laughing, trading jokes about brutal tackles, and comparing notes like old pals.
I stand frozen in the doorway, completely forgotten as I watch the scene unfold. My mouth opens, but no words come out. I blink at my mom, who’s standing beside me, equally stunned.
“What just happened?” I whisper, almost in disbelief.
Mom looks all too pleased. “Don’t question it, honey. Come on, I could use some help finishing up in the kitchen.”
I shake my head, still processing how quickly they’ve hit it off. I follow her, but I can’t resist stealing a few glances over my shoulder at Callan and Dad. It’s like they’ve known each other for years, not mere minutes.
“So,” Mom says, handing me a bowl of salad to toss, “he seems lovely.”
I laugh softly, still a little amazed. “Yeah, he really is. I didn’t expect Dad to warm up to him so fast, though.”
She chuckles, glancing at the roast in the oven as she adjusts the heat. “Your father is a sucker for anyone who can talk sports.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed.”
Mom turns to me with an eyebrow arched in that way she always does when she’s about to ask something personal. “Well, tell me,” she continues, wiping her hands on a dish towel, “how’s it going? Him being here?”
I pause, heat creeping across my face. “It’s only been a day, but I’m really glad he came.”
“He’s smitten with you, you know.”
I crinkle my nose, trying to play it off. “Smitten, huh?”
She swats my arm with the dish towel. “He’s only turned around to look at you seven times in the few minutes we’ve been in here.”
