Page 38 of One Week Wingman

“Aww, look how he’s grown,” Seb says, teasing, but I pause. “What?” he asks, noticing my expression.

“I know I should be happy he’s gotten more mature,” I admit quietly, walking a little in the trees. “But still, it’s weird watching Jason happily give her all the attention he always begrudged giving to me. Like somehow it means Daisy deserves to be treated better than I was…”

“That’s crazy,” Seb says immediately. “How he acts with Daisy now has nothing to do with the two of you.”

“I know!” I blurt quickly, “Forget I said anything. God knows I had my surly moments, too, back when I was seventeen. I mean, I spent the whole summer blasting Hole’sCelebrity Skin.”

He chuckles. “Roxy the rock chick? That I need to see. I wonder if your mom kept photos… Lorna—” he starts to call, but I slap my hand over his mouth, laughing.

“Don’t! If you get her started with the baby pics, she’ll never stop.”

We rejoin the group and make our way back towards the barn. “Do you do this back in the UK, Stefano?” Phil asks.

Seb doesn’t react for a second, so I elbow him. “Stefano?” I prompt.

“Oh, yes. We actually call it scrumping,” Sebastian says, reaching up to twist an apple off its stem. His sweater lifts to reveal a strip of taut, tanned stomach and I have to avert my gaze.

“Scrumping?” I echo. “That’s not a real word.”

“It absolutely is,” he grins back at me. “You can google it. But to be fair, scrumping actually means stealing apples, nicking them off the local farmer. But I went strawberry picking once with my grandparents when I was small,” he recalls. “I was chased by a bee, so I vowed to steer clear of fruit-gathering in all forms from that day forwards. And I kept my vow, too, until today,” he adds grandly.

I snort with laughter at the story. “He’s lying,” I tell my family.

Sebastian holds his hands up in protest. “All one hundred percent true.”

“You know, I once climbed a tree to steal some apples,” Phil muses.

“You did not!” my mom looks amazed. Phil is almost pathologically law-abiding. He won’t even jaywalk.

“It was to impress a girl.” He gives a nostalgic smile. “A group of my buddies were out one night. One of them liked the same girl as me. And I don’t know how it happened, but we ended up challenging each other to steal apples.”

“This is likeRebel Without a Causefor country boys,” I giggle, trying to imagine Phil as a rebellious teenager. Part of the reason my mom fell for him is that he’s about as square as they come. Unlike my wayward father.

“What happened?” Daisy asks.

“Well, I climbed higher, because I thought that would impress her,” Phil says, scratching at his bald patch. “But then we heard shouting and the guy who owned the place showed up, threatening to call the police. My buddy was low enough that he could jump down. So he ran off, and I had to stay up hiding in the tree until it was safe to come down.”

“My fugitive,” Mom laughs, squeezing his hand.

“Clearly, you’re made for each other, Lorna,” Seb jokes, giving her a grin. “What with all your criminal ways.”

Mom blushes. “Hush you!”

“What are you talking about?” Daisy asks.

“Nothing,” Mom blurts, giving Seb another look.

“That’s right,” Seb says with a wink. “My lips are sealed.”

We arrive back at the barn, and my parents go to buy some apple-themed gift baskets, while we perch on a hay bale and sip some cider. “What was that about?” I ask Seb, the moment they’re gone. “With my mom?”

“Just a little joke, between the two of us,” he replies. Then he calls over to Daisy, who’s buying donuts. “Don’t forget the cream!”

“The cream!” she repeats, laughing. “Stefano, you dog.”

Again, I’m lost. Somehow, in the space of twenty-four hours, Sebastian has managed to wrap my family around his little finger, complete with in-jokes and private references.

“You really can charm the socks off anyone,” I comment, glancing over at him.

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