Mary sagged onto John’s shoulder, her palm pressing against his sternum for just a moment in that absent way of hers, seeking his heartbeat out. God, he loved that.

They both straightened, however, when a few moments later her parents came into the room. Her father plunking hard into an armchair on one side of Mary, and Naomi perching prettily on the edge of the chair next to John. They’d both changed out of their pajamas, and Naomi looked as if she’d taken the time to gather herself together, but Mary’s father looked like he was about ten seconds from bursting into tears.

“John, I didn’t get a chance to introduce you before, but this is my father, Trevor Trace. Dad, this is my boyfriend, John Modesto-Whitford.”

Trevor leaned across Mary and gave John a brisk handshake. “I’m sorry that you have to be introduced to Mary’s family in such dramatic fashion.”

Naomi laughed uncomfortably from her chair. “It doesn’t have to be dramatic,” she said in a stilted, singsongy tone of voice, as if she were warning her husband and daughter not to embarrass her.

John nearly rolled his eyes. As far as he was concerned, she’d already embarrassed herself with the way she’d been treating her daughter.

“So,” Trevor said as he cleared his throat, apparently determined to make the most of Mary’s visit. “How did you two meet?”

John took his opportunity, lacing his fingers with Mary’s. “My mother is a good friend of Mary’s, and an artisan who works with Mary’s shop.”

“She set you up?” Naomi asked pointedly, and John was sure she was thinking of her own attempt to set Mary up.

“No,” John said, shaking his head. “She tried, but those things never work out. Mary and I found our way to one another on our own eventually, without any meddling.”

Naomi pursed her lips and sat back. “How long have you been together?”

“Just a month or so,” Mary said casually. “But we had feelings for a while before we got together.”

John couldn’t help but turn to Mary and smile, unfolding her fingers to kiss her palm.

“Have you thought about what the future holds for you two?” Of course this was Naomi’s next question. John should have guessed.

“Naomi,” Trevor warned. “Don’t go there.”

“It’s an innocent question!”

John defended the innocent on a regular basis and he knew, in every molecule of his being, that there was absolutely nothing innocent about the question she’d just asked.