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“It’s going to be you, me, Dad, and Rosie, Mom. Veronica can do what she wants, but I’m not planning on playing with her.”

“Oh, darling, I told her you’d be around and that you’d play a set with us, and …”

“Now, now, Celia.” My grandfather sounds annoyed. “This is the first time your son has brought a girlfriend home, and you’re going to bring up other women? Let’s have some class. If there’s one thing we Sellecks are known for, it’s being classy.”

“Yes, Theodore,” Celia says tightly.

“Please play nice,” my grandfather says.

I look over at Rosie, and there’s a twinkle in her eyes. She doesn’t look annoyed or upset at all. In fact, she looks like she finds the whole exchange amusing, which I’m sure surprises my grandfather too. I notice him once again looking at her, then at me, and I wonder what he’s thinking. I wonder if he’s buying this. I wonder if he thinks it’s highly convenient that right after he told me I wasn’t getting the trust, I’m introducing a new girlfriend. But I also know how easy Rosie is to like if you’re not a snob like my parents. She’s sweet and warm and kind, and I’m grateful she’s here with me.

“I’m not that good at tennis,” Rosie whispers, shaking her head. “And why do I have a feeling that’s going to make your mother hate me even more?”

“Well, the good thing is, I’m very good at tennis,” I say. “I was on my high school team, played in college, and I’ve been pretty highly ranked in the USTA, which is a national tennis league.” I smile at her. “So, we’ll give them a run for their money.”

“Okay, if you say so. I really think your mom hates me. It’s a good thing I don’t care, isn’t it?”

“Now, now, no whispering at the table,” my mother says, glaring at Rosie. “Let’s eat, and then we’ll go. I have other things to do this afternoon. I can’t take the entire day off to entertain your female friend.”

I press my lips together, and Rosie sits there. For a moment, I think no one is going to say anything, and then Rosie clears her throat.

“Just so you know, Mrs. Selleck, in case you forgot, my name is Rosie, not Rosemary. And I’m not his female friend or gal pal or bed buddy. I’m his girlfriend, and we’re in love. I’d really like to get to know you and see if we can bond, but I’m not going to have you disrespecting me, and I’m not going to have you disrespecting my boyfriend. He’s your son, but he’s the love of my life, and anything you say to diminish me hurts him, and I don’t want to see him hurt. Just so we’re on the same page. I’m looking forward to tennis though.”

She reaches for some slices of pineapple and mango and starts eating like she hasn’t just gone off. My heart races at her words, and even though I know they aren’t real, I can’t help but feel touched in a way. My heart thuds like it wants the words to be true. No one has ever called me the love of their life before or looked at me in the way she looked at me. And I’ve certainly never felt so close and connected to someone before either. I reach over and grab her hand and squeeze it.

“You are the light of my life,” I mutter, finding it hard to get the words out, not because they are fake, but because my heart can’t seem to slow down.

“Bravo.” My grandfather chuckles and claps his hands. “Well, well, well,” he says, looking admiringly at Rosie and then at me. “You’ve picked a good one here, Brett. Very nice.”

And I know then and there that I have his approval. I also know it wouldn’t have mattered either way. Rosie is special, and I know it, and I don’t care who else sees it as well.

* * *

“Oh my gosh, girl! Can you not pick up your feet and run?” my mother shouts at Rosie as she misses another ball.

Unfortunately, while I’m a good tennis player, I’m not good enough to pick up the slack where Rosie is failing because she’s even worse than she led me to believe.

“I’m sorry.” She makes a face as she pants and grabs the ball. “This is torture, and I can barely breathe.”

“It’s okay. If you want to stop, then …”

“No,” she puffs. “I’m not going to stop until the game is over. I’m not going to give your mom another reason to hate me.”

I shake my head at her. “You’re incredibly stubborn, aren’t you?”

“Well, when it comes to women like your mother—no offense—I can’t let them feel like they’re getting one over on me.”

“I understand.”

“It’s a pity Veronica isn’t here,” my mother calls out. “She’d be absolutely killing it right now.”

I press my lips together. “Mother,” I say, and then I look at my father. “Dad, this is not acceptable.”

“Your mother’s just expressing her feelings, son. We’re Sellecks, and as Sellecks, we’re expected to be the best. We’re expected to⁠—”

“We’re playing tennis, Dad. No one’s expecting us to win the US Open or Wimbledon.” I look over at Rosie. “You ready to serve?”

“I guess so, but we both know most of the balls aren’t going to make it over the net.”