He then proceeded to open every door and pantry in sight. “Zero junk food. You some health food nut?” He faced his father, a look of disgust on his face.

“Milk will be delivered later. Some semi-unhealthy snacks as well.” Constantine returned his phone to his pocket. “Satisfied?”

Colin snapped his fingers. “Just like that? Poof. Food will magically appear.”

“I don’t do my own shopping. Someone does it for me.” Constantine shrugged as if that was a perfectly normal response.

For an apparently rich guy, according to my son’s internet search, it’d probably be abnormal if he did push a grocery cart down the aisle. And I doubt he found the price of eggs offensive.

“When was the last time you were in a grocery store?” Colin grinned.

“I don’t know, maybe five years.”

Ah, the last time you shopped is the last time I’ve been on a date. Thank God my overtired brain didn’t let that slip out. Also, note to self, do not drink alcohol around this man. One drink, and I’d truly go with the flow. I’d word vomit my deepest thoughts. But two drinks, and my control might snap. Who knows what⁠—

“Why don’t you go to your room and get some rest?” Constantine suggested, interrupting my spiraling thoughts that had no business being in my head. “None of us have slept.” He casually checked his watch. “It’s already after zero eight hundred.”

Colin rolled his eyes. “Civilian time, man.”

I was impressed by Constantine’s ability to not fight fire with fire when it came to our son, which wasn’t always easy to do with teenagers.

He let that “man” slide and translated, “It’s after eight o’clock.” He had to have known Colin was well aware of the time, but he was polite to respond to our son’s attitude anyway. “Your bedroom is upstairs next to the game room.” He pointed toward the hall where he’d set down our belongings.

“Games up there, too?” Colin asked, eyes lighting up like he’d won the lottery.

“Pool table. Poker. Sure.”

Colin grimaced. “Not what I was talking about.” He went over to his bag and picked it up. “I’m going to be bored here. Can you add a PlayStation to that list with the milk? Oh, and Call of Duty. Fortnite, too.”

I was about to shut down the idea of buying him anything, but Constantine took charge. “Do you really think you deserve a PlayStation after sneaking out while grounded, going to a rave, and lying to your mother?”

I shouldn’t have found him being all parent-y sexy, but I did.

“Come on. Give me a break.” Colin’s shoulders slumped. “You have a lot of birthdays to make up for, don’t you?”