“It’s good.” I smile at him. “I’m just waiting for someone to pop out and hand me a bonnet.”
“I’ll give you the full tour tomorrow,” he says, pulling down a narrow street. “No bonnets required.”
The nerves creep back in once we’re parked in front of a small stone house with ivy climbing up the front wall.
I’m about to meet his mother.
And apparently, I’m now Addie.
And I don’t hate either of those things.
We’re barely out of the car before she comes running out of the house.
“Oliver!” she calls in a thick, melodic accent, arms outstretched toward him. His eyes brighten when he sees her. She’s tall—taller than me at least, although everyone is taller when you’re only five foot three. Her eyes are warm and kind, and the same beautiful shade of brown as her son's.
“Mum,” he says, grinning as he moves in for a hug. He wraps both arms around her, fully embracing her. His whole body relaxes into hers.
When she steps away, she looks over at me and smiles. “You must be Addison.”
“Sorry,” Oliver says, a little flustered. “Addie, this is my mum, Danielle.”
“Hi,” I say, suddenly self-conscious. I extend my hand to shake hers. “Thank you for having me.”
“Oh, love.” She waves me off and pulls me in for a hug like we’ve known each other for years. “You’re always welcome. Grab her bags, Ollie.” She gestures toward the car before looping her arm in mine. “I’m sure you’re knackered after that drive. I’ve already put the kettle on.”
I love her already. I don’t know what I was expecting, but immediate warmth was not it, especially considering how shy Oliver is. She ushers me inside, guiding me like I belong here, leaving Oliver to grab the bags.
The house is small—cozy in a way that just feels like home. She leads me straight to the kitchen, nudging a mug of tea into my hands like it’s second nature.
“Sit down, love. Ollie’ll bring the bags in.”
I laugh, taking a sip of tea. “This is already so relaxing.”
She smiles at me, a kind, but knowing smile. “He told me you’ve had a rough go of it. Sod the bastard, I say. Just relax here, yeah?”
“What the bastard?”
Danielle laughs. “You’ve spent so much time with Oliver, I thought you’d have picked that one up by now. Just means fuck the bastard.”
I let out a giggle as my chest softens. How, in the span of five minutes, does this woman already have me on the verge of laughing and crying over a cup of tea?
The front door opens again, and Oliver’s voice calls out. “Fuck me, it smells amazing in here.”
Danielle turns toward me and laughs. “I’d say he didn’t learn that language from me, but…” She tilts her head and shrugs.
“Best welcome home I could have asked for.” Oliver steps into the kitchen and grins. “Do you need any help, Mum?”
I love the way his face softens around her. It’s like he steps over the threshold of this house and becomes lighter. Oliver becomes Ollie. Just a football playing boy who loves his mum and knows where he came from.
“No,” she shoos him with the wooden spoon in her hand. “Why don’t you both get settled before tea?”
“But we just had tea,” I whisper to Oliver, confused.
“It also means dinner. Another word to add to your dictionary.” He smirks at me. “Right then. Come on. I’ll show you around.”
He points out the tiny back garden before heading toward the living room. Shelves line the walls, filled with books, magazines, and mismatched trinkets. I pause in front of the fireplace, where one framed photo catches my eye.
A press clipping showing a very small, very serious-looking boy in an oversized football kit, with socks that go up his entire leg. The caption underneath says:Oliver Mackenzie shines in youth tournament.
