‘… and I was always so sure there was something brewing between the two of them,’ my dad is going on and on; all of this shit about May and me in high school. ‘And then Colt here chose Boston. That’s what you call missing one train to catch another, if you ask me, because, you know, Boston was good. Boston brought us a lacrosse legend. But if we’re talking about May, he got lucky, and here we are.’

‘Mmm-hmm.’ Rod nods. ‘Though at least today, they weren’t behaving much like a couple. I don’t know if it’s how the two of them get over lacrosse, but you could’ve cut the tension with a steak knife. Horrific.’

‘Really?’ Connor Dean, momma’s boy of the Woodchucks, leans forward inquisitively, his big blue eyes the size of our dinner plates. ‘That true, Colt? Trouble in paradise?’

I roll my eyes at Rod, the snitch. ‘It wasn’t that bad.’

‘Oh?’ Ma is unconvinced. ‘Is that why May isn’t here tonight? You know we invited May along with the guys, don’t you?’

‘I was pretty excited to meet your girlfriend,’ JJ Kovacic – our team’s child in a college grad’s body – adds unhelpfully, all crestfallen. ‘Not to mention future MLL player, I hope.’

‘I know,’ I grumble.

‘No sass at the dinner table,’ my sister cuts in. Sav crosses her eyes my way to punctuate her point.

‘Savannah.’

‘Colton James.’

‘Dude, stop!’

‘Sav, Colt, come on. We have guests.’

‘How does it feel when your girlfriend bails?’ smart-mouths Sav.

As if on cue, the doorbell rings, and as much as I don’t want to face May right now, I pray it’s her just so I can shut my sister up.

‘I’ll get it.’ I scramble to my feet and, before anyone at the table (especially Rod and definitely Sav) can give me any shit, I rush over to the door to see who’s there.

As I open it, relief and terror simultaneously flood my body. She’s standing on the porch in fresh Wranglers and a tight long-sleeved grey Henley after my own heart, her hair braided over her shoulder, that same pair of brown boots embroidered with butterflies peeking out from the hems of her jeans, her favourite pair. She holds a big glass container covered in cling wrap, which she extends my way, totally deadpan. ‘Dessert. We made tiramisu. If you’re into that.’