Page 83 of Falling Like Stars

“I’m sure Mom loves that,” I say.

“No, she does not,” he agrees. “But it’s only temporary. Until I find something I like better.” He hefts both pieces of our luggage. “I’ll take these to your room. Or…rooms? Don’t want to presume what level of premarital shenanigans you’re up to.”

Come to think of it, I’m not sure what level of physical Rowan wants to be after the emotional fallout the other day either, but she doesn’t hesitate.

“One room,” Rowan says. “If your parents are okay with that.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jeremy says. “They know the score. We’re all adults here.”

“Are we though, Jeremiah?”

“Oh, has shit-talking commenced, Zachariah?” Jeremy bellows and hefts our bags. “The parentals are in the main living room and very eager to meet you, Rowan.”

He takes the luggage down the hall as Rowan and I continue through the house that is all dark exposed beams in high ceilings and iron chandeliers.

Rowan arches a brow. “Zachariah?”

“It’s the most pointless of in-jokes,” I say. “I don’t even remember when it started. Like I said, he’s kind of a lot.”

“I like him,” Rowan says. “If I were casting him in a movie, he’d be the head of the frat house with a heart of gold.”

“I like that,” I say, relieved that she can see through his bluster.

“Zachary?” my mother calls from deeper in the house. “We’re in here.”

In the living room, my parents are sitting on the couch. Mom’s got a jigsaw puzzle going on the table in front of them, as usual. Dad has his crossword in his lap. They both set aside what they’re doing and stand up to greet us.

“Oh honey,” Mom says, pulling me into a hug. “I’ve missed you so much. So, so much.”

Her hair is more silver now than brown, and Dad’s sporting a beard that is nearly all white, his dark hair salt and pepper. He takes his turn giving me a hug and a pat on the back.

“Congrats on your win, son,” he says. “So proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Rowan watches the scene, looking uncertain. Almost shy. Mom and Dad turn to her, their smiles welcoming but cautious. Echoes of those rough last few years with Eva are written all over their faces.

“Mom and Dad, this is Rowan Walsh. Rowan is a costume designer currently working on a big production.”

“Zach is being way too generous,” she says, extending her hand to shake theirs. “I am working as a costumer but not… Yeah, so anyway, thank you so much for having me.”

I’ve never seen her stumble over her words, I muse as a redness creeps over her cheeks.

“Wonderful to meet you, darling,” Mom says warmly, to help put her at ease. “Please, sit.”

“How did you two meet?” Dad asks after we take seats across from them on the second couch. “Wait, would you like something to drink? Jeremy! Bring us some lemonade.”

Jeremy, having just returned from our room, is about to sit on a side chair but jumps back up. “As you wish.”

He vanishes into the kitchen, and my dad faces us again. “You were saying?”

“Zach and I met when I was a production assistant on Covet.”

“Oh, isn’t that the really horrible role you did recently for HBO?” Mom frowns at me. “So violent, from what you’ve described.”

“Yep, that’s the one,” I say, while Rowan grins behind her hand.

“How was he in that?” Dad asks Rowan. “Not sure that’s the kind of thing I want to watch my boy in.”

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