Page 54 of Miss Manage

“Does he have brothers?” she asked, deadpan.

I let out an exasperated sigh.

“What? He might not be my type, but the universe clearly spent extra time on that man.”

Mom folded her arms, still watching through the glass. “They seem to be getting along. Is this serious between the two of you?”

Seriously awkward. Seriously unexpected. “It’s…new. Any chance you’re leaving before dinner?” I already knew the answer.

Both of them chimed in together, in a smug tone, “Not a chance.”

Of course not.

To his credit, Gabriel was a good sport, both literally and figuratively. By the time he came inside, he was charming my family like he’d been born to it, and he sat at my kitchen table as if this was perfectly normal.

“This lasagna is delicious, Mrs. Green,” he complimented warmly.

“Please, call me Paulina,” Mom replied, beaming. “Does your mother cook?”

“She does. When I was in London, I missed all her meals.”

My mom gave an approving nod. “Every good Italian woman should cook.”

My sister and I exchanged matching eye-rolls. Sure, we could cook if we had a mind to do so, but making pasta from scratch took time neither of us had.

Michelle leaned on her elbow, chin in her hand, lashes fluttering in her fake-innocent way. “So, Gabriel, tell us about yourself.”

Nothing innocent about her interrogation. No doubt she’d pull some strings and have a background check on him in her inbox by morning.

Gabriel only smiled, sliding his hand under the table to give mine a quick squeeze. The unexpected contact jolted through me. But it wasn’t unwelcome.

“I’m the oldest of three boys. Grew up in New York for the first ten years before my family moved here to San Diego. My parents have been married almost forty-two years and live a few miles away.”

My mother let out a delighted little hum, clearly sold.

“I have a thirteen-year-old daughter, Samantha, and I’m back here after a year in London, happy to be closer to her again.”

“How lovely,” Mom murmured giving me a look that said, “don’t let this one go.” “And you’re into sports?”

“Oh, I was in my younger years. Austin was nice enough to humor me by playing catch.”

Austin perked up. “I have a local game next Saturday. Gabe, want to come?”

Fantastic. The lines weren’t merely eroding; they were dissolving completely.

“I’d love to see you play,” Gabriel responded politely. “I’ll check my schedule.”

But then Austin’s phone buzzed. His shoulders stiffened.

“Everything okay?” I inquired.

“Yeah…it’s Dad. I’m sure he’s not happy I’m here having dinner.”

Michelle’s mouth opened, no doubt ready with a string of colorful names, but I shot her a warning glare. High road in front of Austin. Always. Even when I wanted to call my ex all the names in the book.

“If you’d rather stay here tonight, I’d be happy to text your father,” I offered.

He shrugged. “Nah, it’s fine.” He grabbed a cannoli for the road. “Thanks, Mom. Good to see you, Aunt Michelle. Grandma. You, too, Gabe. Thanks for playing catch.”

“Anytime,” Gabriel said easily.

The door clicked shut behind him, and for one blessed moment, silence reigned.

Then, in perfect stereo, my mom and Michelle both started cursing my ex in Italian.