That was probably just as well. Trying to explain himself could only have ended in disaster.
Rusty followed Blake inside, taking over holding the door to let his mother in. “So, can I call you mum, or…?”
Her entire face lit up. “You’re welcome to. My name is Susan, if you’re more comfortable with that.”
“Mum’s fine,” Rusty insisted. “As long as you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all.” Susan beamed at him. “Your accent is so charming.”
Rusty glanced over at Blake. “See? Charming.”
“I’m sure he thinks so as well,” Susan said. “Come through to the kitchen, we’re all in there.”
Rusty followed Susan, poking his head into a big, brightly-lit kitchen. Wooden countertops and white cabinetry made the whole space look open and welcoming.
He almost wanted to take a picture so he could use it as a reference later.
“This is my husband, John,” Susan explained. Rusty nodded to the other man, who seemed to be working his way through a stack of napkins, rolling and folding each one into a long-stemmed rose. From Rusty’s perspective, it looked like magic.
“Megan’s taking a nap,” she explained. “Chris is out back, checking for weeds. I told him it was winter, but…”
“Megan is my sister, Chris is her boyf- uh, fiancé,” Blake explained. “Wow. Not used to that at all.”
Rusty chuckled. “You don’t get weeds in the winter?” he asked.
“Nothing much grows except for mushrooms,” Susan said. “Do you garden?”
“I helped out when I was a kid. Plenty of stuff grew in the winter, most of it weeds. I guess if it’s too cold for me here, it’d be too cold for them.”
“Aww, my delicate little flower,” Blake teased, smiling broadly at Rusty.
That told him he was doing a good job with Blake’s parents.
“Well, if I stare at these any longer, I’m gonna go blind,” Blake’s father said, standing. “Rusty, is it?”
“Yes sir,” Rusty said. He would never have called anyone ‘sir’ back home, but he’d heard Americans do it often enough that he assumed it was expected.
“Don’t sir me,” John said. “Not even Blake gives mesir.”
“Noted,” Rusty responded, not sure whether he’d screwed up or not. “John, then?”
“Perfect.” John nodded. “Beer?”
Rusty grinned at him. “I think I’ll fit right in here. Please, if there’s one going.”
“Finally, a son who’ll drink with me,” John said, standing up and stretching his arms over his shoulders. “You two sit down,” he added, patting Rusty’s shoulder on the way past.
It felt like acceptance.
He wasn’t sure his own father had ever done that.
“You look like you’ve got a good set of lungs,” Susan said. Rusty looked up, confused, and then saw the bag of balloons in her hand. She tossed them across the table, leaving Rusty to catch them.
“They’re for the bridal shower tomorrow,” she explained. “Blake, your handwriting is beautiful, so you’re on place card duty.”
She shoved a basket filled with cards and pens over to Blake, who was blushing to the tips of his ears.
John returned with two bottles of beer and sat down beside Blake, across from Rusty. He passed one over, then twisted the cap off the other one.
