Mary pinched the bridge of her nose in a rare show of frustration and pain. It snapped something inside of John. Nobody got to make Mary cave in on herself. Not Dud Doug and not her mother. He was at her side in a second, his arm around her waist and his lips at her temple.

Mary breathed deeply through her nose, leaning into John. “Mom, meet John Modesto-Whitford. John, meet my mother, Naomi. He’s not a guest, for the record. He’s my boyfriend.”

“You brought a man to meet us?” Naomi asked carefully, a strange light in her eyes as she looked back and forth between John and Mary.

“She’s torn between celebrating the fact that I won’t die a spinster and reaming me out for bringing you over when she’s wearing her after-dinner robe,” Mary translated, turning to John.

Naomi pinched her lips together before she stepped forward for a handshake. “Well, I have to admit this isn’t exactly how I pictured meeting Mary’s beau.”

“Well, I pictured you calling me to apologize for your behavior, so I guess we can’t all get what we want, can we, Mom?”

Naomi blanched and took a step back. “I’m going to change my clothes and get your father. Mary, why don’t you bring John into the sitting room?”

Mary grabbed John’s hand and dragged him through a dining room, the kitchen and then back to a darkened living room area, where an episode of a television show was paused on the screen.

Mary collapsed onto the couch and dragged John down with her. “Holy crap,” John muttered.

“Yeah.” Mary pinched the bridge of her nose again. “I never imagined she would lie to my dad like that. I mean, I was starting to wonder why he wasn’t texting or calling, but I never thought...”

“Okay.” John rubbed at his forehead for a moment, then dropped his hand, realizing that Mary knew his tell and not wanting to imply that any of this was too stressful for him. He organized his thoughts in his brain. “Mary, I want to be whatever you need right now. If you need me to sit stoically by your side, I’m there. If you need me to hold your hand and laugh at their jokes and pretend everything is just dandy, I’ll do it. It’ll be really hard for me not to defend you, because that’s kind of my knee-jerk reaction, but for you, I’ll—”

“Are you nuts? Defend me! It’s been six years since I had Tiff defend me to my mother’s face. I’m dying out here. What’s the point of dating a public defender if he won’t even defend you to your mother?”

John burst out laughing. “Fair enough. Defending you it is. And then we leave.”

“Perfect.”