Page 100 of Things We Fake
I gave a mental groan. Of course. My father didn’t ask about Cam’s work. Not even about his intentions toward me. My father—a man whose lifeblood was fermented grapes—wanted to test Cam on his palate.
Cam picked up his own glass. “That’s a tough one. It depends on the mood, the meal. But if I had to choose, I’d say a good Nebbiolo never fails.”
My dad’s eyebrows lifted. Paul stopped mid-sip. Even my mother gave an impressed little nod.
Dad leaned forward. “A Nebbiolo.” He tapped a finger against the stem of his glass. “Bold. Tannic. Demands patience.”
Cam nodded. “Exactly. It takes time to reach its full potential, but when it does, it’s worth every second.”
Oh, my. I swallowed the itch that inched its way from my throat to my stomach. That was not a half-assed answer. That was a correct answer, and judging by the tiny flicker of approval in my dad’s expression, I knew Cam had just won his first battle.
Dad took a sip of his wine, studying him. “Interesting choice.”
“I like a wine with layers.” Cam stole a glance at me. “Something that evolves and keeps you on your toes.”
I turned to stare at him. Was he talking about wine… or me?
Becky, who had been oddly quiet, leaned over to Michelle and muttered, “I think we’re witnessing some weird mating ritual.”
Michelle took a sip of her water. “I feel the same.”
My father, who had yet to show any emotion, finally let out a deep chuckle, setting his glass down with a thoughtful nod. “You know your wines, Cameron.”
Cam’s smile broadened a fraction. “I try. But I have a feeling I could learn a lot more from you, sir.”
Dad leaned back in his chair, clearly pleased but not about to admit it. “We’ll see.”
For a moment, it seemed like the worst was over. Cam had passed the first test. My father wasn’t sharpening a corkscrew into a weapon, and my motherhadn’t yet commented on my lack of posture. So far, so good.
My mother turned to Helen with a dazzling smile. “Helen, you must be so proud of your son.”
Helen returned the smile, dripping more warmth in hers. “I am. Cam has always been hardworking, and when he sets his mind to something, there’s no stopping him.”
My mother nodded, her eyes twinkling with the same calculated sharpness I’d spent a lifetime trying to survive. “That’s wonderful to hear. Of course, I imagine this engagement came as a bit of a surprise to you, too.”
“Surprising, perhaps, but not unbelievable,” Helen said. “My son has always had excellent taste.”
She gave me a smile that warmed my entire soul. I smiled back, grateful for this unexpected ally.
My father’s gaze landed on Cam’s wrist. “Is that a Speedmaster?”
Cam glanced down, then angled his wrist. “’57 reissue. Omega released it a couple of years ago.”
My father’s eyebrows lifted. “The Broad Arrow?”
Cam nodded, the hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yes. Manual wind, caliber 1861, sapphire back.”
That was it. I could almost hear the gears shifting in my father’s head as he leaned in with new interest.
“I have the original Moonwatch,” Dad said. “Fabricated in ’69. My pride and joy.”
Cam gave a low whistle. “No way. With the Hesalite crystal?”
My dad’s expression softened into something dangerously close to fond. “Of course. Acrylic scratches, but it also tells a story.”
Beside me, Paul groaned. “Great. You’ve activated the horology club.”
I was too stunned to speak. Cam and my father had just crossed into sacred ground—watch nerd territory. A place where time wasn’t measured in minutes, but in mechanisms, heritage, and the weight of legacy.
