Page 79 of Finding Gideon
I shook my head. “I’ll have you know Dennis thinks I’m a five-star chef.”
“Dennis probably thinks grass clippings are a five-star meal,” she said, rolling her eyes.
Mom gave her a look but didn’t argue. “Are you eating vegetables? And getting a good night’s sleep?”
I leaned back into the couch. “Yes, Ma. I had spinach yesterday. Got a solid six hours last night.”
“That’s not enough. You need at least seven and a half.”
“Seven and a half? What kind of oddly specific?—”
“I read a study,” she said, waving me off. “You’ll thank me when you’re not hunched over like your father.”
Dad passed behind her with a glass of water, muttering, “I’ve been hunched since ’89. This is nothing new.”
Camille rolled her eyes again. “Can we acknowledge that Malcolm still has that loner energy? I thought small-town life was supposed to soften you. Bring joy. Open your pores or whatever.”
“You watch too many romantic comedies,” I said.
“Don’t change the subject.”
“I’m not a loner; I’m peaceful.” I grinned despite myself. “And I’m not single either.”
That got their attention.
Gideon tensed beside me, his palm damp against mine, but I gave his fingers a squeeze.
Camille raised both eyebrows. “Wait. Back up. Did you just casually drop that you’re not single like it’s not news?”
Mom squinted again, leaning forward. “Are you seeing someone?”
Dad was still now.
I nodded slowly, thumb grazing the edge of the phone. “Yeah. It’s… kind of new. But not that new.”
“Okay,” Mom said, drawing the word out. “And are we going to meet her?” Mom’s gaze softened. “You can say whatever you need, baby. You know that.”
“Yeah, son,” Dad said. “We’re listening.”
And I realized this was the moment.
I let the quiet settle for a second longer, the screen filled with the familiar faces of the people who’d raised me—my anchor and my compass, even when I didn’t always know how to say it.
“Yeah,” I said finally. “It’s not a she; it’s a he.”
Another beat.
Camille’s lips parted, then shut again. “A he?”
“Yes.” I held her gaze.
A pause, the kind that happens when everyone knows the next part matters.
Then my mother’s face softened, the corners of her mouth turning up. “Well, it’s about time you brought someone home. What’s he like?”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. My chest loosened. “He’s kind. And brilliant. Loves animals.”
Dad’s voice came through, calm but wry. “Is he a Kings fan?”
