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She smiled. “Six months. And it’s more serious than infatuation. Here.” She shifted towards the tablet. “Let me introduce you. Please?”

Konnor’s nostrils flared. Everything within him screamed against it. He was worried for her. He hated the man already. He sighed. The guy was in his mom’s life, and it was Konnor’s job to make sure she was safe.

“Okay. But if I sense even a hint of violence in him…”

“Then what?”

“You’ll break up with him, that’s what. I’m not risking your health and your safety.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not for you to decide.” She unlocked the screen and called a Mark Campbell on Skype.

Campbell?

While the tablet rung, Konnor’s stomach roiled with a strange sensation of déjà vu. Campbell was no doubt a modern version of Marjorie’s clan name, Cambel.

“Does he live in New York?” Konnor murmured.

“No, L.A., but he’s in New York to set up the exhibition for me next week.”

“Next week? Were you even planning to invite me?”

The screen went live. “Hello!” a male voice said.

Staring at Mark’s face, Konnor sat completely still.

Tamhas looked back at him from the screen, only sixty years old, and with his long hair completely white. He even had the same white stubble on his chin, and intense gray eyes.

“Hold on,” Mark Campbell said, and the background behind him shifted. “Let me find a calm spot. Ah here, the back of the gallery will do.” He looked at Konnor and his mom and smiled. “Hello, Helen. Hello, Konnor. Nice to finally meet you.”

He had a bright, pleasant simile. Wise eyes. Calmness and peace radiated from him.

“Hi,” Konnor said, stupefied.

“Hi, honey,” his mom said.

Konnor suppressed a growl. Honey. We’ll see about that.

“So I hear you’ve been seeing my mom,” Konnor said.

Mark nodded. “I’ve been fortunate enough to, yes. She’s one of a kind.”

Konnor cocked his head. “We can agree on that. What are your intentions towards my mother?”

He sounded like an old-fashioned prick, but he didn’t care.

“My intentions—”Mark met his mom’s eyes, and they warmed with such light and love that Konnor gritted his teeth. “My intentions are to make her deliriously, unconditionally happy. As long as she’ll have me.”

Yeah. We’ll see about that, too.

Konnor’s hand clawed around his fork. “When are you back to L.A.?”

“Tonight.”

“Like soccer?”

“I do, actually.”

Konnor was pretty sure the man said that because his mom had told him Konnor was a soccer fan. But at least he had the decency to pretend like he did.