Chapter 36: Thirty seven

Reid

I should’ve known better than to agree to brunch.

But my mother had called, and my father had insisted, and I’d caved—because years of experience had taught me that saying no to Evelyn Callahan only delayed the inevitable. And so here I was, seated at a too-fancy table in one of their favorite private clubs, already regretting every life choice that had led me here.

The air smelled like fresh pastries and subtle wealth. Soft piano music played in the background. Everything was pristine, polished, and far too bright for a Sunday morning after the week I’d had.

My mother, Evelyn Callahan, was practically glowing. “Oh, darling, married life suits you,” she said, beaming as she reached across the table to straighten my tie.

I resisted the urge to sigh. “Good to know.”

“And Fallon—oh, she’s just thriving,” my mom continued, her eyes sparkling. “That kiss at the gala—my heart!”

My father, Charles, cleared his throat, looking like he very much wanted to be anywhere else. “Evelyn—”

“Oh, hush, Charles,” my mother said, waving him off. “Our son is in love, and you want me to be calm?”

I took a long, slow sip of my coffee and stared at the tablecloth, as if maybe—just maybe—if I wished hard enough, the linen would swallow me whole.

“It was one kiss,” I said.

She wasn’t listening. “And you two looked so passionate,” she gushed. “I knew there was something special between you. You balance each other so well—fire and ice. Just like your father and me.”

My father raised a skeptical brow but wisely stayed silent.

“Fallon has such style,” my mom went on, completely undeterred. “And that dress she wore? Stunning. You know, I always hoped you’d marry someone with taste.” She patted my hand like this was a genuine concern she’d been harboring for years.

I opened my mouth to respond—though I had no idea how—when the waiter mercifully arrived with our food.

It was a brief reprieve. But I should have known better than to hope for peace.

Because then, it happened.

My mother waited until I had a mouthful of coffee before she struck. “So,” she said, her voice soft and dangerous. “When should we start expecting grandchildren?”

I choked. Hard.

My father sighed heavily. “Evelyn—”

“I’m just asking!” she insisted, eyes wide and innocent. “You two have been married for weeks. And Fallon would make such a wonderful mother—don’t you think so, Reid?”

I set my cup down slowly, trying to keep my composure. “We’re… not in a rush.”

My mother’s face fell like I’d just told her we were moving to Antarctica. “But why not? You’re both so in love—”

“Fallon’s career is taking off,” I interrupted smoothly, desperate to steer the conversation anywhere else. “She’s focused on that right now.”

Evelyn’s eyes softened. “Of course she is. She’s so talented. But, Reid—” She leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice like she was sharing some great secret. “You do want children, don’t you?”

My jaw tightened. “This isn’t exactly brunch conversation.”

She ignored me entirely. “Oh, I can just see it,” she continued dreamily. “A little boy with your eyes and Fallon’s smile. Or a girl—wouldn’t that be adorable? A tiny little thing with those beautiful curls…”

My father set his fork down with a pointed clink. “Evelyn. Enough.”

But she wasn’t done. “You’re not getting any younger, you know. And I want to enjoy my grandchildren while I still have the energy to spoil them properly.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, my patience hanging by a very frayed thread. “We’ll let you know when there’s news.”

Her eyes lit up instantly. “So you’re trying?”

“Mother.”

Charles rubbed his temples. “For God’s sake, Evelyn—”

She sighed dramatically, finally taking a bite of her croissant like she hadn’t just torpedoed my entire morning. “Fine. I’ll be patient. But don’t keep me waiting too long.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” I muttered into my coffee.

My mother brightened again. “You know, I’ve been thinking of names—”

“Nope,” I said sharply. “Absolutely not.”

“But just listen—”

“Not happening.”

“Reid—”

“Evelyn,” my father said warningly.

My mother huffed, clearly displeased with the both of us. “You two are no fun.”

The Interrogation Continues

Unfortunately, my mother’s baby fever was only the beginning.

“So, how’s Fallon adjusting to the family?” she asked innocently, but I knew better. That was Evelyn Callahan code for: What dirt do you have for me?

“She’s doing great,” I said vaguely.

“She hasn’t said anything about Thanksgiving plans,” my mother said, tilting her head. “You are coming to the house, right?”

I hesitated. Fallon’s feelings about family gatherings were… complicated. And after today, I couldn’t exactly blame her.

“I’ll check with her,” I hedged.

My mother frowned. “You’ll check with her?” she repeated, like this was an unfamiliar and frankly unacceptable concept.

“Yes, Mother,” I said, my voice a little sharper than I intended. “Because that’s how marriages work.”

My father chuckled quietly into his coffee.

Evelyn looked unconvinced. “Well, I hope she’s planning to come. And I hope she knows how much I’m looking forward to having a daughter-in-law around.”

The implication in her tone was clear. I wasn’t just being graced with maternal enthusiasm—I was being evaluated.

After what felt like an eternity, brunch finally ended.

My father clapped a hand on my shoulder as we stood. “Hang in there,” he muttered, his voice heavy with the wisdom of a man who had been surviving Evelyn Callahan for decades.

My mother kissed my cheek. “Tell Fallon I said hello!” she chirped. “And remind her how darling she’d look with a baby bump.”

I didn’t respond. Because I was already planning the world’s longest debriefing drink.

And maybe—just maybe—an escape plan.