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My dad holds his cell phone as he walks around – from the background, I can tell he’s in the kitchen. A rustling makes me think of the packaging of his favorite coffee pods, and figure he is fixing himself a cup.
“Alana?” he says, frowning. “Who’s that with you?”
“Um, Dad, is Mom there?” I ask. My voice wavers a little, but I try to keep it strong. I need to come off as confident here. I don’t want him to think that I’m uncertain or doing this under some kind of duress.
“Yeah, she’s watching her shows,” my dad says, frowning even more. “What’s up, honey?”
“Could you go sit with Mom?” I ask. “I wanted to talk to both of you at once.”
Dad makes a kind of grunt in agreement, which is as close as I know I’m going to get a verbal response. The camera shakes, and the connection struggles to keep up with the view as he moves from the kitchen to our lounge.
The connection stabilizes as my dad flops down on the couch beside my mom. I hear them briefly talk, and the sound of the television disappears.
Both of my parents are frowning at me and the stranger beside me on the screen.
“Ally?” My mom asks, her voice rising high in question. “What’s going on, darling? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“No,” I say, and then gave a nervous laugh because it couldn’t be further from the truth. “No, nothing like that. I have good news, actually.”
“What is it?” Mom asks, then looks between me and Finlay with obvious confusion. “You look very formal. Like you’re going for a job interview.”
Finlay chuckles at that, and I almost want to hit him and tell him to keep quiet, which is unrealistic. That wouldn’t be helpful if I’m trying to introduce him to my parents.
He was going to attract their attention at some point.
In fact, simply by sitting beside me, he’s already attracting a great deal of it.
“No, it’s not a job interview,” I say, glancing at Finlay to let him know that it’s alright for him to chip in.
“Although it sort of feels like it on my end,” Finlay says. His voice is cool and even though I can feel his grip on my hand tighten. “Allow me to introduce myself, as I know you must be wondering who I am. My name is Finlay Barnbraw. I’m the Laird of the estate next to where your daughter has been staying this week.”
“I see,” my mother says, though it’s fairly clear from her tone that she doesn’t see at all – even if she’s trying very hard to. “You’re a Scottish gentleman, by your accent.”
“That’s what he said, Sandra,” my dad says impatiently. “He’s a Laird. That’s like some kind of Scottish – well, Lord, I guess, isn’t it?”
“It’s close,” Finlay says, with that same kind of small, modest smile he gave me when he first explained it to me. “I’m more of a business manager these days. Running my family’s estate. It’s a bit less feudal than it used to be out here.”
“Right,” Dad says. “And what does this have to do with Alana?”
“Rod,” Mom scolds him quietly, nudging him as she always does when she thinks he is being rude. I know my dad has a habit of being very direct – too direct, sometimes.
“No, that’s a fair question,” Finlay replies. He looks at me and smiles. “Well, we happened to meet on Alana’s first day here, and we’ve spent a lot of time together since. It seems as though fate had something of a hand in our meeting.”
“Right,” Dad grunts, still unconvinced about what is happening.
“The thing is, we did more than just meet,” I say. “Actually, we’ve grown very close in the time I’ve been here.”
“How can you be close?” Dad grumbles. “You’ve only been there a week.”
“In your position, sir, I would be skeptical, too,” Finlay responds. He takes my breath away. He recognizes the directness in my dad’s words and responds to it in kind, which is clever in some ways, in others, maybe not so much.
I’m so tense that it might backfire.
“The thing is, to cut a long story short, I’ve fallen in love with your daughter.”
Dad blinks, shocked.
“What?” he demands a moment later, as though he isn’t sure he heard him right.
