Page 14 of The Satyr Next Door (Convergence Quickie #1)

Gina

I wasn’t sure which of us was more nervous.

Aria had been tapping her fork against her water glass for ten minutes, suspicion practically steaming off her dark eyes as she glanced between me and the extra place setting I’d arranged at the head of our little dining table.

The good plates inherited from Nonna, only used for holidays and other special occasions, gleamed under the overhead light I’d dimmed in a desperate attempt to make things feel cozy instead of clinical.

Luca sprawled in his usual chair like he didn’t care, but his shoelaces were actually tied for once and he’d changed out of his ripped jeans without me nagging. Dead giveaways.

As for me? My palms were damp, my stomach in knots, and I’d refolded the same dish towel so many times it looked ironed.

Dinner was way too much for a Wednesday.

I'd made roast chicken, crispy garlic potatoes, sautéed green beans, and homemade bread I’d slaved over like some 1950s housewife auditioning for sainthood.

Like food could prove to my kids that inviting a satyr to dinner wasn’t proof I’d lost my mind.

“Mom.” Aria’s fork tap-tapped, sharp with impatience. “Who’s coming to dinner? And why are you acting like you’re about to throw up?”

“I’m not—” I caught sight of my reflection in the window. Pale, jumpy, and sweating like a woman about to be executed. “I’m fine. I just want everything to be… nice.”

“Since when do you care about nice?” Luca finally looked up from his phone, squinting at the spread. “What is this? Did you rob a restaurant?”

Before I could answer, a knock came. Soft but steady. Exactly at seven.

Aria’s eyebrows shot up. “You actually invited someone? Like… a date?”

The word hit like a grenade.

“Someone I want you both to meet,” I said instead, smoothing the skirt of the dress I’d changed out of three times. Nice, but not too nice. Attractive, but not like I was trying. “Someone… important.”

The door swung open and there he was.

Cal.

He’d dressed for this. White button-down rolled at the sleeves, collar open just enough.

His golden curls were damp from a shower, horns polished until they gleamed bronze in the porch light.

He carried a basket brimming with fruit that looked like it had been painted by Caravaggio; figs, grapes, peaches glowing with impossible ripeness.

“Bella,” he murmured, voice warm with affection and something deeper. Then, softer for me alone: “Thank you. For trusting me.”

The simple gratitude brought tears to my eyes. I stepped back. “Come in.”

The click of hooves against hardwood silenced the house.

Aria froze mid-sip, her glass suspended. Luca’s phone slipped from his hands, clattering onto the table.

“This is Cal,” I said, forcing steadiness into my voice. “Our new neighbor.”

Cal inclined his head with old-world courtesy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” He set the basket on the table like an offering. “I brought something sweet for after dinner. From my garden.”

The silence stretched, awkward, brittle until Luca blurted, “Dude. You have horns.”

My soul tried to leave my body. But Cal just grinned, slow and easy. “Sharp eyes. Hooves too, if you’re keeping score.”

Luca snorted. Aria rolled her eyes. The spell broke.

“Subtle, Luca,” she muttered, though her gaze kept darting back to Cal, her eyes glittering with questions she didn’t trust herself to ask.

“What?” Luca shrugged. “It’s not like he’s hiding it. That’s… actually cool. Are you like, real? From the myths?”

“Real as they come.” Cal’s grin widened. “Though the polite term is ‘supernatural-American.’”

That earned him another snort from Luca. Even Aria’s mouth twitched like she was fighting a smile.

As I served dinner, I watched him work magic without magic.

He complimented Aria’s science project, asking questions sharp enough to impress her.

He listened to Luca’s monologue about video games as if it were an epic tale, nodding as though tower defense strategy were worthy of Socratic debate.

He ate with obvious enjoyment, tearing bread with his hands and passing dishes without being asked, every movement deliberate.

But it was the way he looked at me that made it hard to my chest tighten. Soft glances across the table, pride and warmth and something reverent in his eyes. Like I wasn’t just their mother holding dinner together with garlic bread and willpower, but a woman he was honored to sit beside.

“So.” Aria twirled pasta with careful casualness. “Are you dating my mom?”

I nearly choked on my wine. “Aria!”

“What? It’s a reasonable question.” She flicked her gaze to Cal, sharp as a scalpel. “You keep looking at her like…” She gestured vaguely with her fork. “Like that.”

Cal didn’t flinch. “I do like what I see. Very much. Your mother is… remarkable.”

Heat crawled up my throat. Aria narrowed her eyes, undeterred. “And your intentions?”

“Aria Marie Rossi!” Mortification hit full-force.

But Cal just leaned forward, his voice calm and sure. “My intentions are simple: to spend as much time with your mother as she allows. To make her happy if I can. To be worthy of the trust she’s given me tonight.”

For once, my daughter had no comeback.

Luca jumped in, oblivious. “So do you, like, eat normal food all the time? Or, like… grass?”

“Luca.”

“What? I’m curious!” He pointed at Cal’s empty plate. “He ate everything. So… omnivore? But like, do you have allergies? Can you get sick from human food?”

Cal’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “I can eat what humans eat, plus a few things you’d find questionable. Certain mushrooms that would put you in the hospital.”

“Cool,” Luca said, like they were discussing Pokémon stats.

The tension bled away after that. Dinner wasn’t perfect. Aria decided the potatoes were “too garlicky.” Luca tried to dodge cleanup duty, but it wasn’t a disaster either.

When Cal rose to leave, both kids mumbled goodnights without prompting.

“It was nice meeting you,” Aria said quietly.

“Yeah. You should come back,” Luca added, already drifting toward his game. “Mom’s a good cook when she tries.”

High praise, by his standards.

I walked Cal to the door, reluctant to let him go. He cupped my face with one warm palm, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “For them. For this.”

“Thank you for being… you.” My voice cracked, but I didn’t care.

His smile was radiant. “Later, Bella. When they’re asleep.”

And for the first time, I wasn’t drowning in guilt. I was buoyed by something else entirely.

Happiness. Pure and simple.