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Sam did as he was told, sitting next to Maya and across from Omar, grateful for the fact that Maya had enlisted her mum to work on her dad.

Yvonne sat at the head of the table. “Dig in, everyone.”

The curry was as tasty as it smelled, though Hana mostly pushed hers around her plate, Maya shooting her the odd anxious look.

“So, Sam,” Omar said, studying him across the table and making his heart rate spike. “What are your career plans?”

Maya took Sam’s hand under the table. “Ugh, Dad. This is pretty boring dinnertime chat.”

Omar raised his eyebrows. “I’m getting to know him, Maya.”

“Then ask him what his favorite TV show is, or what sports he likes,” Maya shot back.

Sam gave her hand a squeeze. “I recently had another promotion, and I’m the assistant manager now. So, once I’ve settled into the role, I’ll see.”

Omar nodded.

Smiling, Yvonne swept in. “What are your family doing for Christmas, Sam?”

His shoulders relaxed at the change in subject. “Liv and I are going to Mum’s. Well, Mum and Angus’s,” he corrected himself.

It would be the first time in years that there had been four people around their Christmas dinner table, and he was sure it would be a much better atmosphere than when his dad had been there. Though he couldn’t shake the feeling that one day, it might end up the three of them again, if Angus bolted.

At least now he didn’t have to worry about Catriona’s wrath, not where Christmas was concerned. She’d always been resentful of him seeing his family around the festive season and tried to block those plans, even when he’d been more than willing to see her family in addition. It was as if she just didn’t want him to see his mum and Liv at all, and only be around her and her family. Come to think of it, her attempting to block him seeing family and friends had been an all-year-round exercise.

Glancing at Maya, he knew there was no way she’d behave like that.

Yvonne lifted her glass. “We usually have a little Christmas Eve party here, and we’d love it if you came.”

A warm feeling settled in his chest. “That would be great, thank you.”

Omar sipped his water. “So how much does an assistant manager at a ski resort make these days?”

Yvonne shot him a hard look. “Omar.”

“I’m not being rude. I just want to make sure everything is . . . secure.” Omar’s gaze penetrated Sam, causing his heart to feel like it was trying to bury itself in his stomach. “Your future needs to be so, if you’re planning on settling down.”

“It is rude,” Maya said, her mouth drawn into a thin line. “That’s not the sort of question you ask anybody. Especially a dinner guest.”

Sam took a breath, realizing that last time he’d been here, Omar had given him a cloaked warning not to expect anything long term with Maya. And now he was making barbed comments about needing a secure future? Oh shit. It dawned on him that Maya had mentioned seeking medical advice from Omar about morning sickness. What if he’d put two and two together and reached five—making the assumption that his younger daughter was pregnant, rather than his older one? And now he was sounding out Sam because he didn’t think he was a good enough prospect to be the father of his grandchild.

Suddenly, Sam knew exactly how Hana felt, pushing the food around his plate with a nauseated feeling and trying to communicate to Maya with his eyes what was going on.

Omar continued tucking into his dinner, clearly not fazed by any of this. “There comes a time where you have to put family first. Do what you need to do to provide for them.”

Oh God. Sam caught Hana’s eye across the table, and she shot him a pained look. She’d caught on too. He couldn’t correct Omar though, not without breaking Hana and Maya’s confidence, and Hana clearly was too fragile to have a discussion about her pregnancy or the fallout with her fiancée.

Maya blew her breath out through pursed lips. “Whatever, Dad. We’re not even thirty yet. Plenty of time to think about all that stuff.”

Sam gave her hand a squeeze and shot her a look that he tried to make read “your dad thinks I’ve got you pregnant,” but it must have come out as “I’m terrified” instead, because she just gave him a supportive smile. Though, to be fair, those two sentiments were rather similar.

Somehow, Sam managed to get through the rest of dinner without passing out from intense stress and was the first to help with the tidying up. Something he would’ve done anyway but was even more keen to now, in order to avoid any further grilling.

Maya kept shooting him worried looks, and he could tell she still hadn’t realized what the misunderstanding was. As they loaded the dishwasher together, he leaned in, keeping his voice low. “We need to talk.”

Frowning, she nodded. “Okay. But I hope you’re not dumping me because my family is a nightmare.” She glanced across the room at where Omar had his head buried in a medical magazine. “Well, one of them is anyway.”

“No,” he replied. “It’s not that.”