"Don't look at those," Nick ordered from the living room in his parents' house.
After introducing Trisha to his parents, she'd walked across the plush neutral carpet, over to the red brick mantle, where his mother displayed the most unimaginable pictures of him growing up.
She looked just as at home here as she did on the orchard. His mother's country décor not seemingly Trisha's style, but she'd smiled down at the hand-crafted birdhouses and spiced candles.
"Why not?" She, of course, was not bothered by his tone.
"Because I said so."
Trisha made a noise he could only interpret as a blow-off and studied the photos anyway.
Satisfied she was distracted, he sat on the green plaid-print couch and stretched his legs out before him.