Page 24 of The Satyr Next Door
The word hit like a grenade.
“Someone I want you both to meet,” I said instead, smoothing the skirt of the dress I’d changed out of three times. Nice, but not too nice. Attractive, but not like I was trying. “Someone… important.”
The door swung open and there he was.
Cal.
He’d dressed for this. White button-down rolled at the sleeves, collar open just enough. His golden curls were damp from a shower, horns polished until they gleamed bronze in the porch light. He carried a basket brimming with fruit that looked like it had been painted by Caravaggio; figs, grapes, peaches glowing with impossible ripeness.
“Bella,” he murmured, voice warm with affection and something deeper. Then, softer for me alone: “Thank you. For trusting me.”
The simple gratitude brought tears to my eyes. I stepped back. “Come in.”
The click of hooves against hardwood silenced the house.
Aria froze mid-sip, her glass suspended. Luca’s phone slipped from his hands, clattering onto the table.
“This is Cal,” I said, forcing steadiness into my voice. “Our new neighbor.”
Cal inclined his head with old-world courtesy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” He set the basket on the table like an offering. “I brought something sweet for after dinner. From my garden.”
The silence stretched, awkward, brittle until Luca blurted, “Dude. You have horns.”
My soul tried to leave my body. But Cal just grinned, slow and easy. “Sharp eyes. Hooves too, if you’re keeping score.”
Luca snorted. Aria rolled her eyes. The spell broke.
“Subtle, Luca,” she muttered, though her gaze kept darting back to Cal, her eyes glittering with questions she didn’t trust herself to ask.
“What?” Luca shrugged. “It’s not like he’s hiding it. That’s… actually cool. Are you like, real? From the myths?”
“Real as they come.” Cal’s grin widened. “Though the polite term is ‘supernatural-American.’”
That earned him another snort from Luca. Even Aria’s mouth twitched like she was fighting a smile.
As I served dinner, I watched him work magic without magic. He complimented Aria’s science project, asking questions sharp enough to impress her. He listened to Luca’s monologue about video games as if it were an epic tale, nodding as though tower defense strategy were worthy of Socratic debate. He ate with obvious enjoyment, tearing bread with his hands and passing dishes without being asked, every movement deliberate.
But it was the way he looked at me that made it hard to my chest tighten. Soft glances across the table, pride and warmth and something reverent in his eyes. Like I wasn’t just their mother holding dinner together with garlic bread and willpower, but a woman he was honored to sit beside.
“So.” Aria twirled pasta with careful casualness. “Are you dating my mom?”
I nearly choked on my wine. “Aria!”
“What? It’s a reasonable question.” She flicked her gaze to Cal, sharp as a scalpel. “You keep looking at her like…” She gestured vaguely with her fork. “Like that.”
Cal didn’t flinch. “I do like what I see. Very much. Your mother is… remarkable.”
Heat crawled up my throat. Aria narrowed her eyes, undeterred. “And your intentions?”
“Aria Marie Rossi!” Mortification hit full-force.
But Cal just leaned forward, his voice calm and sure. “My intentions are simple: to spend as much time with your mother as she allows. To make her happy if I can. To be worthy of the trust she’s given me tonight.”
For once, my daughter had no comeback.
Luca jumped in, oblivious. “So do you, like, eat normal food all the time? Or, like… grass?”
“Luca.”
