Page 90 of Daddy Down Under

The simple sincerity in his voice made my throat tight. Before I could respond, the car slowed as we approached the long driveway that led to my parents’ farmhouse. The car rounded another bend, and I caught the first glimpse of smoke from my parents’ chimney rising through the trees.

Ocean’s grip on my thigh tightened as the farmhouse came into full view. It sat nestled against the backdrop of snow-covered hills, its red siding a bright splash of color against the winter whites and forest greens. Mom’s collection of bird feeders hung from the front porch, creating a flurry of activity as cardinals—the only bird I knew by name as their red color made them easy to identify—and countless other birds darted back and forth.

Ocean let out a soft gasp. “This is like something out of a Christmas card.”

Before the car could come to a complete stop, the front door swung open. Mom appeared on the porch, wrapped in her favorite quilted jacket, with Dad right behind her. They both wore those enormous smiles that always made me feel like a kid coming home from college.

“Ready?” I asked Ocean, but he was already reaching for the door handle.

The blast of cold air that hit us was nothing compared to the warmth of my mother’s welcome. She rushed down the cleared path, her arms already opening wide. “It’s so good to see you.” She hugged me tightly. “It’s been too long.”

“So happy to see you, Mom.”

She stepped back, then cupped my cheeks in her hands, giving me a scrutinizing look. “You look good.”

Ocean could take the credit for that, but we had agreed to keep that aspect of our relationship to ourselves. “Thanks, Mom.”

I reached for Ocean’s hand, then tugged him forward. “Mom, this is Ocean.”

“Ocean! Oh, we’re so happy to finally meet you!” She wrapped him in one of her signature hugs before he could properly introduce himself. I watched his initial surprise melt into something softer, more vulnerable, as he returned her embrace.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Mrs. Sullivan,” he said, his voice carrying a slight waver that probably only I could detect.

“Oh please, it’s Marie. And this is Robert.” Dad stepped forward, extending his hand, but Mom was having none of that.

“Robert Sullivan, don’t you dare be formal. This boy needs a proper welcome.” She gave Ocean a gentle push toward Dad, who chuckled and pulled him into a hug.

I stood there watching, my chest so tight it hurt, as my parents welcomed the man I loved like he was already family. When Mom’s eyes met mine over Ocean’s shoulder, they glistened with tears, and she mouthed, “He’s perfect.”

The lump in my throat grew bigger. He was.

My father gave me a tight hug, holding me a few seconds longer than usual. “So happy for you, kid.”

Jesus, they were gonna make me cry.

“Let’s get you boys inside before we all freeze,” Mom said, already herding us toward the house. “I’ve got fresh coffee brewing and a delicious treat that just came out of the oven.”

The familiar scent of home hit me as we stepped inside—wood smoke from the fireplace, Mom’s coffee, and something else that made Ocean’s eyes light up.

“Is that cinnamon?” he asked, inhaling deeply.

“Apple cinnamon bread.” Mom beamed. “Cash mentioned you love it.”

Ocean shot me a look that was equal parts surprised and touched. “You remembered that?”

“I remember everything about you,” I said quietly, then felt my face heat when Dad cleared his throat, reminding me we weren’t alone.

“Here, let me take your coats,” Dad offered, already reaching for Ocean’s jacket. “Marie’s been up since dawn getting everything ready. You’d think the Queen was coming to visit.”

“Robert!” Mom swatted his arm, but her eyes were twinkling. “I wanted everything to be perfect.”

“It already is,” Ocean said with such genuine warmth that Mom’s eyes went misty again. “This place is incredible. Like waves of love washing over you the moment you walk in.”

I watched my parents exchange a look I knew well—the one that said their hearts had just been stolen. Ocean had that effect on people, that ability to see straight to the essence of things and express it in a way that made you feel seen and understood.

“Cash tells me you’re quite the gardener,” Ocean said to my dad, gesturing to the windowsill full of thriving herbs. “It’s a shame you can’t show me your garden in the winter, but I’d love to hear about what you’re growing.”

Dad’s face lit up like Christmas morning. “Oh, you’re interested in gardening?”

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