I adore him.
Fuck, I adore him.
We sink onto the couch and I ease his nerves with a shoulder rub.
Best to warn him though.
Ollie is undoubtedly going to make a beeline.
“Just so you know, a certain five year old is gonna claim you as his best friend before you even step in the door.”
???
“Take a left here,” I guide him. “The grey bungalow under the fig tree? That's us.”
He pulls to the curb.
“Mum's going through a bit of a mosaic phase, by the way. She's halfway through grouting the path, the mail box, and the stairs.”
“Ah I see what you mean,” he smiles. “Very colourful.”
He twists the key from the ignition, his exhale slow and steady.
“You'll be fine,” I assure him. “They’re gentle. And they're more nervous than you are. Except maybe one. Look, he's already standing by the window waiting for you.”
Marco seems to relax as we make our way up the path.
“What's in the paper bag?” I ask.
He darted into the mall on our way here, but insisted that I didn’t peek.
“Wait and see,” he grins, holding my hand for courage.
The garden is bursting with lavender, rosemary, and overenthusiastic pots of geraniums.
Wind chimes greet us in the sea breeze.
As the front door opens, a faint hint of salt and herbs envelop us.
Something delicious is cooking in the oven.
My mother steps out first, wiping her hands on a tea towel.
“You must be Marco,” she says, embracing him warmly. “I'm Ava. It’s so lovely to meet you. Keith’s just finishing the roast, he’ll come say hello soon.”
“Thank you for inviting me,” he beams.
Next to Mum stands Talia and her hubby.
Robbie holds out his hand, giving Marco a friendly back pat.
“Hey man, nice to meet ya.”
“Yeah, you too,” he replies.
“And I'm Talia.” My sister hugs us one by one. “Somebody's pretty keen to show you the tower they've been building. Say hello to Marco, don't be shy.”
Two little faces peer out from behind her skirt.
