Page 58 of Her Age Gap Match

My dad appeared in the kitchen doorway in a cardigan, reading glasses on, holding a book with his finger keeping his place. He looked at the screen with the expression he wore when my mom had summoned him without context—patient, slightly resigned, already bracing.

Then he saw John.

He looked at me. Back at John. Put his bookmark in.

"Hi, sweetheart," he said.

"Hi, Dad."

“Who’s this?” he asked.

“John Lawson,” my mom chimed in. “Owner of Due North Distillery in Fennville, Michigan.”

My dad immediately pulled out his phone. Now I was really flushed. Maybe even sick over it. “Dad, are you seriously looking him up⁠—”

“No, I got a text from…my friend,” he said, waving his hand.

My mom and I exchanged a look.

My dad did not have friends who texted him about Michigan distilleries. My dad had colleagues and my mom and us kids and that was essentially it.

"What friend?" I asked.

"Barry," he said, not looking up from his phone.

"Who is Barry?"

"A friend."

“Barry is what he calls the internet these days,” my mom said. “Because I told him he needed a social life.”

“It’s…he’s a real person,” my dad muttered, looking at my mom.

“Who? Barry or John Lawson?”

Dad scowled.

John chuckled and kissed me on the temple. “I'll leave you to it. Nice to meet you two.”

He circled the counter and then actually left me some privacy—going upstairs, though I had no idea why. I watched him go, then looked back at my parents on the phone screen.

“You already googled him, didn't you?” I asked my dad.

He huffed, but my mom snatched the phone out of his hand. I watched as her eyes darted across the screen.

“Wow, sweet pea,” Mom murmured. “He is…”

“Don't say old,” I interrupted.

“I was going to say rich,” she snorted, then frowned. “How old is he?”

“...forty-something?”

My dad grumbled and Mom smacked his arm as she passed the phone back with her other hand. “Oh stop,” she said. “Poppy—you know your grandma was twenty years younger than your grandpa, and they loved each other. No judgment here.”

“I'm going upstairs,” Dad grunted.

“Love you,” I called after him.