She beamed. "That would be Miles using a family recipe. My grandmother's formula, though we added rosemary because James mentioned he likes herbs."
"It's perfect."
Miles grinned. "About damn time someone brought home a man with actual manners. Matthew usually attracts strays who grunt through dinner and disappear before dessert."
I protested the characterization. "I've brought home exactly two people in the past three years".
"Two too many, apparently, since neither stuck around long enough to learn Ma's middle name." Miles gestured with his fork. "But this one, he knows how to appreciate artisanal carbohydrates. I approve."
Michael had been conspicuously quiet, commenting only on the salad dressing and asking whether Ma needed the wine bottle passed down. He tracked every gesture from Dorian.
Not curiosity. Evaluation.
I watched Dorian navigate the crosscurrents of McCabe family dynamics—responding to Ma's stories about the neighbors' ongoing property line dispute, laughing at Miles's impression of his most dramatic client, and asking James thoughtful questions about his research into the motivations of arsonists.
Alex reached for the wine bottle. "Dorian, what's your take on Matthew's cooking? I've seen him burn water, which makes me genuinely concerned for your nutritional welfare."
Dorian was diplomatic. "He makes excellent tea and knows how to scramble an egg."
Ma reached over and patted Dorian's hand where it rested beside his plate. "Don't you worry, honey. I'll teach you both some proper recipes. Can't have my boys surviving on takeout."
My boys.Just like that, Dorian had been absorbed into the family. Ma claimed him with the same casual authorityshe'd used to claim every stray animal, broken neighbor, and occasional boyfriend we'd brought home.
He spoke softly. "That's very kind."
"Kindness has nothing to do with it. It's self-preservation." Ma squeezed his hand once before returning her attention to her plate. "If I don't feed you properly, Matthew will worry. If Matthew worries, he gets that crease between his eyebrows that makes him look like his father. I can't handle another generation of McCabe men who think brooding is a valid personality trait."
I tried to protest, but Miles was already nodding sagely.
"She's got your number, brother. You do the eyebrow thing when you're stressed. Very dramatic. Very Irish Catholic guilt."
The conversation devolved into familiar bickering about who inherited what traits from which side of the family tree. Dorian listened with fascination.
Michael finally spoke up, his voice cutting through the genetic analysis. "Dorian, you enjoy outdoor activities? Hiking, camping, that sort of thing?"
"Some. I appreciate remote locations. Places where you can think without interruption."
"Solitude's important." Michael cut his lasagna with precise movements. "Gives you perspective on what matters."
Miles was in the middle of explaining his latest client success story—something involving a city councilman's fear of butterflies—when Michael's voice cut through the conversation with surgical precision.
"That sedan still out front? Two houses down. Windows tinted dark enough to hide a tank crew."
Ma rolled her eyes with the exasperation of someone who'd spent three decades dealing with overprotective males. "Oh, for heaven's sake. It's probably Mrs. Patterson's nephew visiting from Spokane. Or one of those Amazon delivery trucks that gets lost and parks wherever they feel like it."
Michael lowered his voice. "Amazon doesn't use black sedans with government plates."
I looked at Dorian. His face revealed nothing, but his breathing was slightly different.
The game had changed.
Ma did her best to refocus the conversation. "Well, whoever they are, they're missing an excellent dinner by sitting in a car on a perfectly nice evening."
She began collecting plates, and I caught her glancing toward the front window as she moved.
Miles, who'd been uncharacteristically quiet during the exchange, finally spoke. "You know, I once had a client convinced the FBI was watching his house. Turned out to be his ex-wife's divorce attorney gathering evidence for a custody case."
"This isn't a custody case," Michael said.
