You had everything under control. Dinner was set, wine was poured, and your parents were none the wiser about the fact that your boyfriend—who was twenty-two years older than you—was about to walk through your door.

And then he did.

"Darling?"

The room went silent. Your father, fork halfway to his mouth, turned his head slowly. Your mother blinked, glancing between you and the man standing in the doorway, bouquet in hand.

Grissom, ever composed, stepped forward like this was any normal dinner and handed you the flowers before acknowledging your parents. "Mr. Calloway. Mrs. Calloway. Nice to see you."

Your father, a man who could stare down politicians and agents without flinching, just… stared.

Your mother, on the other hand, smiled—too sweetly. "I take it you two know each other?"

Your father exhaled. "We’ve crossed paths."

You swallowed, gripping the bouquet a little tighter. "I was going to tell you."

"Tell us what, exactly?" your father asked, tone unreadable.

Grissom, ever the scientist, stated it plainly. "We’re together."

Your father sat back, jaw ticking slightly. "And for how long?"

You hesitated. "A while."

Your mother arched a brow. "Define ‘a while.’"

Grissom met your father’s gaze directly. "Long enough that I wanted to do this right."

Silence. Then, your father sighed. "And here I thought dinner would be uneventful."

Your mother smirked. "Oh, I don’t know, dear. I think this just got interesting."