“Real estate agent?” his mother echoed. “Are you buying a house here in Atlanta?”
Callan ran a hand over the back of his neck as he tried to figure out how to fix his blunder. “Yes. I was going to mention it when I saw you.”
When you were actually supposed to be here. Alone.
“Why did you invite your real estate agent to visit you here?” his father asked.
Even though it was a logical question, Callan didn’t appreciate the tone of it. His father said the term “real estate agent” in the same tone one might say “prostitute.” His hands tightened into fists as he worked on controlling his anger to speak in a calm tone.
Roxy spoke first. “I accompanied Callan’s P.A.L. from the Michael Sanderson Center for Boys and Girls,” she said, turning to indicate Rashied and Duane standing a short distance away. “Rashied, why don’t you come and say hello to Mr. and Mrs. Murphy.”
She stepped back so Rashied could advance. When she did, Vivian Price moved forward.
“Ms. Wagner, I actually wanted to speak with you if you have a few minutes,” she said.
Roxy looked relieved for the interruption. Callan could hardly blame her.
“Of course.”
“Great.” Vivian turned to him and his parents and said, “Please forgive the interruption.”
“No problem,” Callan murmured.
Roxy turned and followed Vivian from the room. She avoided Callan’s gaze and didn’t say another word to anyone. The absence of any emotion from her dropped his heart into the blender and pulverized it.
What had he just done?
Rashied was the one who broke the silence that fell as the door closed behind Vivian and Roxy. “Dude, did you just call your woman your real estate agent?” he asked.
Yes, he had. And it shamed him.
“Your woman?” his mother repeated. “Callan, what is going on?”
He took in his parents’ aghast expressions and finally allowed his anger to take over.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but Roxy isn’t only my real estate agent. I just didn’t think she was ready to meet my parents out of the blue like this. I was trying to make things less awkward for her.”
“Epic fail,” Duane muttered.
There was a light smattering of agreement from the people watching. Callan wanted to lash out at all of them for judging him, but he couldn’t.
Because he agreed with them.
“You’re telling us that you’re in a relationship with that—that woman?” his father said, gesturing towards the door. “The one wearing torn jeans and cheap shoes with the tattoo on her arm?”
Callan went very still. “Yes, that is what I’m saying. But this isn’t the time or place for this conversation.”
His statement served as a prompt to resume the other conversations around the room. A few of the families headed to the door.
“I think it would be best if you and Mother leave,” he told his father. “We can discuss this another time.”
“When?” his father demanded. “After that woman has ruined your hockey career and conned you out of all your money?”
“Phillip,” his mother said, placing a hand on his arm. “That’s enough. You’re making a scene.”
Not a word about how his father had just insulted Roxy and upset him, Callan noted. Just that he was now embarrassing her.
Enough was enough.
Turning to Rashied and Duane, he said, “I’m sorry, guys. Would you mind occupying yourselves with the arcade games for a few minutes so I can go have this conversation?”
“We got you,” Rashied replied, his gaze moving between his parents as though they were alien creatures.
“Thanks. When Roxy comes back, I’d appreciate you telling her where I went.”
“No prob,” Duane said.
Callan turned to the door, waving his parents after him. He headed for one of the meeting rooms down the corridor and was relieved to find it empty. Once they all stepped inside, he pulled the door closed and turned first to his mother.
“I expressly said I didn’t want to see both of you right now when we talked on the phone,” he told her. “This is why.”
“Your father hasn’t said anything about your game,” his mother argued.
“No, but that’s because I had an incredible game.” His eyes shifted to his father. “And if he says fuck all about it, he’ll never hear from me again.”
His father’s nostrils flared. “If you can’t handle objective feedback intended to help you play better—”
“Just stop,” Callan interrupted. “I’ve got fucking coaches for that. What I need from you two is support and encouragement, things I used to get from G-Man. Things I get from Roxy.”
His mother’s eyes lowered.
“Of course you’re going to get support and encouragement from that woman,” his father scoffed. “You’re a wealthy, famous athlete.”
“If you even suggest that Roxy is with me for my money, I won’t even hesitate to cut you out of my life. I swear to God.”
His father tossed his hands into the air and looked at his mother. “You see? He’s completely unreasonable. All I’m trying to do is protect his career and his future.”
“Roxy is my future,” Callan countered. “I just have to convince her of that.”
“What do you mean, convince her?” his mother asked.
“I mean that my relationship with Roxy is moving forward at her pace. I’m just nudging things along one step at a time. That’s why I didn’t introduce her to you as my girlfriend. I didn’t want to scare her off.”
His mother gave him a tentative smile. “If it helps, I saw how she was looking at you as we walked into that room behind you. I think her pace is keeping up with yours better than you realize.”
“Don’t encourage this nonsense,” his father said in an exasperated tone. “If he’s focused on this woman, he’ll lose his focus on hockey.”
“He did just fine tonight, didn’t he?” his mother pointed out.
“You can’t seriously be okay with this, Lucille.”
“How could I not be okay with our son finally falling in love?”
His father looked like she had just gut-punched him.
“Phillip, you saw how Callan played tonight,” she said. “You actually told me you were proud of him. That was why I agreed to visit the family room to surprise him. I figured if you had something nice to say, it would help ease things between you two. Now you’re not only insulting our son’s girlfriend, but his taste in women and his ability to balance his career with a relationship. It’s a wonder to me that he hasn’t given up hockey before now just to spite you.”
Callan watched his father open and close his mouth as though lost for words.
“My father kept us informed of the ins and outs of Callan’s life when he was alive,” his mother concluded. “Now that he’s gone, I intend to do that myself, even if it means leaving you at home.”
Callan wanted to let out a loud cheer. His mother had never stood up for him like this. He supposed he indirectly had Roxy to thank for it when his mother spoke again.