The dining table was filled with the warm aroma of home-cooked food, the soft clinking of utensils, and the eager voice of Marissa Ford as she fired off question after question at Celine.
“So, Celine, how did you meet my son?” Marissa asked, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.
Celine, in the middle of taking a bite, nearly choked. She quickly sipped her water, glancing at Daryl for help.
Daryl sighed. “Ma, it’s work-related.”
Marissa waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, but you’ve never brought a woman home because of ‘work’ before.”
Henry, who had been quietly eating, let out a low chuckle. “She’s got a point.”
Daryl shot his father a glare.
Celine, amused but also slightly nervous, decided to answer before the conversation got any more awkward. “We met earlier today, actually. It w
