Page 65 of Playing By Ear

He took a sip, then another. The wine was a rich, aromatic Condrieu Blanc that would pair perfectly with the seared-scallop starter that had just been placed in front of him.

“It’s been a lovely holiday,” his mother said. “I almost don’t want to go home.”

Perry murmured agreement, though to be honest, he couldn’t wait to be back in Glasgow and see Jamie again.

As if reading his mind, his phone dinged where it sat on the corner of the table. “New text message from Jamie. ‘Thanks for the cute pho⁠—’”

Perry quickly tapped the screen with two fingertips to shut it up. “Let me fix the VoiceOver settings.” He changed it so it would ask him whether or not to read it aloud. “Sorry about that.”

“Never mind,” his mum said. “Is that the same Jamie who asked your advice on wine yesterday? The one you said was ‘just a friend,’ as if I couldn’t hear you smiling while you spoke to him?”

Perry’s faced warmed. “Maybe I’ve got funny friends who make me smile.”

“Glenn, is he blushing? It sounds like he’s blushing.”

“A wee bit,” his dad said. “You know, Perry, the best way to end our interrogation is to tell us everything.”

“It’s too soon to tell you anything. I met him nine days ago.” The last thing he wanted was to excite his parents over a new guy, only for Jamie to fuck off again.

“And out of these nine days,” his mother said, “on how many have you seen him?”

“Including the day we met? Five.” The ooohs hit him in stereo. “But it’s too early to make it a big deal.”

“Even if it’s a small deal,” his father said, “you can still tell us all about him.”

“Fine, fine.” Perry dabbed his napkin against his mouth. “Jamie’s a professional musician and an amateur footballer. And he’s a Jags fan.”

His father gasped. “Good lad.”

“What sort of musician?” His mother leaned in, her swing of silver hair coming closer. “Like in an orchestra?”

“Like in the street. He’s a busker, plays guitar and sings. Makes a fair living at it, too,” he added, knowing they’d be curious but wouldn’t ask.

“That’s fantastic,” his dad said. “How long’s he been doing that?”

“Since…for several years.” Perry didn’t care Jamie hadn’t finished school, so why wasn’t he telling his parents? Maybe because his mum was a bit of a snob when it came to education? “He’s a genius songwriter as well. The music part, at least.”

“Has he auditioned for X Factor or Britain’s Got Talent?” his dad asked.

Perry had posed the same question on their first date. By the weary way Jamie had answered, it was obvious he’d been asked a hundred times. “No, it’s rather astonishing he’s not been discovered by an agent or a manager.” He shrugged. “Then again, I’m biased because I fancy him.”

Mum brushed her fingers over his arm. “So you’ve given us his stats, now tell us what he’s like.”

Perry couldn’t hold back a smitten smile. “He’s incredibly sweet. He’s clever, much more so than he gives himself credit for. He likes my cooking.”

“He’d better,” she said. “I taught you everything I know.”

“As for the blindness”—Perry knew she was wondering—“he’s considerate. Like, when I’m monologuing, as I am wont to do, he gives me verbal prompts to let me know he’s still listening. I didn’t even have to ask him to do that. And he seems genuinely curious about my sight, in a good way. He wants to know how to make things easier for me, without doing things for me, if you know what I mean.”

“I do know,” she said, and by the tone and direction of her voice Perry could tell she was looking lovingly at his father. “And how about Jamie’s family?”

“He doesn’t like to talk about them,” Perry said. “He and his dad had a falling out several years ago.”

His father clicked his tongue. “Ah, that’s a shame.”

“Is Jamie an only child like you?” his mum asked.

“He’s got an older sister he seems fond of. She recently reached out to tell him their father has brain cancer. Now Jamie’s helping to look after him.”