I fish out my wallet and hand over a couple of hundred dollar bills to him. “If you give me a bank account number, I’ll make the rest of my donation when I get back home.”

“Cal . . .” My mom breathes, and starts to tear up.

I’ve always made it my goal to give back wherever possible. I’m a self-made man who was fortunate enough to have loving parents who made sure that their three children were raised with good morals, a strong faith, and were afforded opportunities that many do not get.

My brother, Jeremy, owns his own construction company and my sister, Heather, was a successful event planner before she went on maternity leave to have my nephew, Grayson. Last I heard, when she returns to work in a few months’ time, my mom will be looking after him.

Our family is close-knit; there aren’t any nasty skeletons in the closet or hidden family scandals.

That makes what I crave, the closeted fantasies I’ve hidden for so long, so dangerous. I can’t allow myself to contemplate ever playing them out. The consequences, if it were to be exposed, would be far-reaching and devastating.

Half an hour later, the entire family—Mom, Dad, Heather, her husband Glen, Jeremy and his wife, Julia, are around the large wooden dining table at my parents’ house for lunch.

“Cal, where did you go? I said your name twice, and it was like you were someplace else.” My mom’s voice cuts through my scattered thoughts.

“Sorry, I was somewhere else. What did you ask?” I turn my head toward her, giving her my full attention.

“I was asking if you wanted to stay for dinner as well?”

“Sounds great, Mom.” I reach over and grab her hand, squeezing once before letting go. “I don’t have anything pressing to attend to this evening, so I’d love to.”

“So proper,” my sister remarks wryly. “Anyone would think you were famous or something.” She sniggers and my lips twitch, unable to hold back a grin.

“Or something,” I add, spooning a second helping of lasagna onto my plate.

“How is that project going? The new one?” Jeremy asks, pushing his plate away and leaning back in his chair.

“There is an issue with our design, but we’re being kept in the dark until a special board meeting next week. Grant’s been scouring over the blueprints, making sure there isn’t anything we’ve overlooked or missed out, making sure we’ve adhered to the design principles and aims for the project.” I frown and shake my head. “To be honest, we’re at a loss as to what they might say at the meeting on Wednesday.” I’m still frustrated at the lack of information we’ve gotten about this so called ‘meeting.’ Never one to be unprepared, I feel as if we’re going in blind, and that is not the way I’ve ever done business.

Jeremy’s expression matches my frown. “And this came out of nowhere?”

“As far as we knew, the tender being accepted was the final hurdle. Our design is robust and will withstand any scrutiny. We’re confident it will all blow over.”

“If you need me to check over anything, you just have to ask, Cal.” I can see he has his big brother hat on. It’s always been that way between us.

“Yeah, Jer. I might do that.”

“So, Maree,” Julia begins, “did you hear about the lovely, Lu-ci-a?” She slowly enunciates Lucia’s name, dragging it out for maximum effect.

My mom’s head snaps sharply in my direction, quirking an eyebrow and narrowing her eyes in the same breath. I stare at Julia, wondering how she knows Lucia’s name. “You’ve met a woman?”

“No . . . not exactly.” I’m suddenly uncomfortable with the direction our lunch conversation is headed in. My intimate relations with women are strictly casual, never longer than a date or two at best, something Julia and Heather know, because they’re both nosy women who frequently try to play matchmaker. Thankfully, they’ve never asked me why—probably just chalking it up to the widely held misconception that I’m a ladies’ man living the bachelor lifestyle.

“How does your sister-in-law know about a woman in your life and your own mother does not?”

“Maree, leave him be. He’s a grown man.” My dad rolls his eyes, but goes notably quiet.

“Yes, he is. But he’s also thirty-four years old and without a wife, without a strong woman by his side.” Mom’s eyes return to mine and they soften in that way that only a mother’s can. “You need someone, Callum. You’re always focused on work. It seems like there is no one to take care of you.”

“I have you for that, Mom.” I give her my biggest, cheesiest grin that she can always see through but never calls me on. “And besides, if there was a special woman in my life, I’m sure the gossip twins over there . . .” I tilt my head toward Julia and Heather, earning a giggle from the women and a chuckle from my father and Jeremy, “ . . . would be on the phone to you within minutes.”

Mom has the grace to nod, but her eyes tell me she’s still very much concerned, something I already know to be true. It’s the same thing every time I come home.

You need a wife, Callum.

When are you going to start a family?

You need to focus on building a life for yourself outside of work.

All different ways of saying the same thing.

“So tell me about this Lucia, son. Is she the one I saw you with in the Tribune the other day? The pretty brown-haired girl?” Mom asks.

“Yes, that’s her, and she’s hardly a girl. She’s twenty-nine.” This just makes her smile grow wider.

Oh damn. She got me good.

“And there is nothing going on between us. She accompanied me to the charity event. That’s all.”

“Oh but that is so not all, Cal. You see, Mom, my friend Tracey was an organizer for the hospital’s charity baseball game last Saturday, and she says that my very single brother, one of the key guests on the list, turned up with a stunning and unknown brunette on his arm and got everyone talking. Even the Tribune couldn’t find out her name. But the same little birdie told me that there was a kiss involving Callum and a Ms. Lucia Harding on a balcony at said event.”

I cough uncomfortably, not sure why my sister has chosen to impart this information at the table after a family lunch, other than to divert attention away from her. Just as I’m about to enquire further, I’m interrupted.

“Enough, Heather. Let your brother have a private life. Hell, it’s not like the press give him a chance half the time as it is.” My father’s voice is stern, his speech abrupt. He may be down to earth and easygoing, but when he lays down the law, you don’t question it.

I know the females in my family mean well and they only have my best interests at heart, but as a male in his mid-thirties, the constant talk about my personal life is just added pressure to a life already full of stress. When you have married siblings who are busy buying houses with backyards and double garages, and are having children or starting to think about it, the expectations start to fall on the last single member of the family—that being me.

Right now, I’m relieved that Dad stepped in when he did.

If I’m struggling with the thought of letting Lucia in to my life, how the hell can I explain it to the people who matter most to me?

While I drive home, there is only one thing—one person—on my mind.

So it’s no surprise that I now find myself parked in my Range Rover opposite Santorino’s watching the same woman who’s been plaguing my thoughts for over a week now. She confidently works her way around the restaurant—stopping at tables, and smiling at the patrons scattered throughout the establishment. She looks happy and relaxed, definitely not affected by a certain architect leaving her apartment in the middle of the night after our mind-bending sexual encounter eight days prior.