Alicia had completely forgotten.

She scampered around the flat, stuffing laundry under the sofa and shoving empty wine bottles into cupboards at random. She had exactly 30 seconds before her mother and Tess would follow her up the stairs with the luggage, and she knew how her mother felt about mess. She surveyed the flat.

No dust? Check.

The bins? Empty.

Her sanity? Gone.

Alicia blew out a breath. This was as clean as it was going to get. Which was good, because she could hear the creak of the door.

"Córcholis, mija, these stairs are horrible!"

She smiled, taking the bag from her mother, who promptly made a beeline for the kitchen. Alicia trailed her in, flipping on the kettle.

"Tea?"

"Yes, please," Tess chirped, throwing herself on to a chair. "I'm parched."

"How was the drive?"

Her mother pulled a face. "Long. Your sister played the same album on repeat. For seven hours, if you can believe it."

"It's a good album," Tess said defensively. "Any Patriots fan will tell you so." She smiled as Alicia doled out the boiling water into mugs. "Milk for me, porfa."

Her mother's eyes skipped around the room, drinking in the cluttered countertops. The heart-shaped magnets on their fridge. The wooden coat rack. Not that there was much to see there; all of the coats were put away. Well, except for—

Alicia froze.

Oh, god. Oliver's coat.

Alicia threw herself into the chair with the staunch determination of a soldier throwing himself on a landmine. She managed to drag the coat down, so that she was sitting on top of the navy wool, blocking it from view. Tess gave her an odd look.

"Aren't you going to finish the tea?"

"Can you do it?" Alicia pulled at her shirt. "I feel suddenly dizzy."

This was the wrong thing to say.

Her mother rose from her seat. "You're not running a fever, are you?" She took a step towards her. "Let me feel your forehead."

"No!" Alicia held up a hand. "Don't come any closer." She could feel the coat digging into her back. "It could be contagious."

"But I—"

"Seriously, Mum, stay where you are."

Unfortunately, giving directions to her mother was a lot like telling a toddler not to smear mashed carrot all over the walls: pointless, and never particularly well received. Her mother's dark eyes narrowed.

"Por Dios, Alicia," she growled, marching towards her, "if you don't take better care of yourself, then one day you'll—" She broke off, her eyes widening. "What's that?"

Alicia shifted. "What's what?"

"That!" Her mother jabbed a finger. "Right there."

Too late, Alicia realized that a wool sleeve was poking out from beneath her right hip. Even with so little exposed, it was obviously a man's coat: the large brass buttons, the wide sleeves, the masculine detailing... she wouldn't be able to deny it.

Especially given her caginess.

"Oh, that." Alicia waved a hand casually. "It's a friend's coat. He left it here."

She shot Tess a pleading look. Her younger sister knew about Oliver, but she could occasionally be counted on to keep a secret. This, however, was not one of those times.

"Is that Oliver's?" Tess's eyes widened. "Honestly — and don't take this the wrong way, Leese — I kind of thought you were making him up."

Her mother frowned. "Who's Oliver?"

"Nobody," Alicia said quickly.

"Nobody?"

"A friend."

"A boyfriend," Tess corrected her smugly. "Leese has been seeing him for a few weeks." Alicia threw a rubber spatula at her, and her sister ducked, glowering at her. "Hey! That could have hit me."

"That was sort of the point."

Her mother's eyes narrowed. "I want to meet this boyfriend of yours."

Alicia groaned. "He's not my boyfriend, Mum!"

"But his coat is at your house?"

"For the record," Tess threw in, "I'd like to meet him, too." She took an innocent sip of tea. "So I can warn him how crazy you are."

Alicia glared at her. Nah, the rubber spatula wasn't nearly enough; she was going to repeat the famous incident of running over all of Tess's Patriots CDs with the car. Only this time, she was going to make her sister watch as she did it.

"If I introduce you," Alicia growled, "will you both stop banging on about it?"

Her mother and Tess exchanged a look.

"Yes," they said in unison.

"Fine!" Alicia threw up her hands. "I'll call him, then."

She stalked into the living room, muttering a mix of English and Spanish profanity under her breath. Stupid wool coat. Stupid Tess. Couldn't her sister keep quiet for once? She punched the button in her contacts.

Oliver picked up on the first ring. "Miss me already, then?"

"Hi." She took a deep breath. "Look, are you free for dinner tonight?"

"Wow." He whistled. "You must have really missed me."

Alicia paced around the room. "No, it's not that." She paused. "Well, maybe a little. But more importantly, my mother's in town."

"She is?"

"Yes." She sat down. Stood up again. "And she wants to meet you."

Alicia crossed to the window, opening the blinds. She could see a neighbor pottering around her lawn, adding birdseed to a feeder. She sighed. Birds were so lucky; they only had to deal with their mothers until they left the nest, and then they could fly free. Literally.

"Okay, then," Oliver said. "Let's do it."

"Really? Just like that?"

"Sure. Parents love me."

She clutched the phone. "You haven't met my mother yet."

"Alicia." Oliver sounded amused. "It'll be fine." She could hear him tapping something on his phone. "How's six o'clock for you?"

"Perfect." Alicia paused. "Oh, wait; Mum is driving into Dundee to see an old friend. I don't think she'll be free until six."

"It's fine." Oliver's voice was dismissive. "I'll pick you up in my car; we can meet her at a restaurant in Dundee. And Alicia?"

"Yes?"

"Deep breaths," he said soothingly. "Everything will be great; I promise."

Oliver pulled up outside of Alicia's flat, humming under his breath.

He tugged at his white shirt. He had ironed it himself this afternoon, tackling the chore between picking out a bouquet of flowers and watching a game of football with his temporary bodyguard, Charles. He could see the Irish man's sedan idling just down the street, stalled beside a rather hideous pot of orange marigolds.

At least Alicia wouldn't know who Charles was.

Oliver had no idea how the hell he would have explained why Brooks had to come to dinner with them. At least Charles could sit at a table nearby, undetected.

He stepped out of the car. Alicia's bedroom light was on, and he could hear loud crashing noises through the open window. Someone cursed colorfully in Spanish.

Oliver smiled to himself.

He could guess why Alicia was nervous; her mother probably hadn't been a big fan of Greg, for obvious reasons. But this was different. Oliver had won Alicia over; he could win her mother over, too. Besides, he liked that she cared what her mother thought. It meant that she was close with her family.

He rang the doorbell.

Footsteps thundered down the stairs. Alicia flung open the door, flushed and breathless. She was wearing a white silk blouse and a black skirt. A long black skirt, Oliver noted in amusement. Much more modest than what she'd normally wear.

And as for her top...

"Your shirt." He tried not to smile. "It's inside-out."

She looked down and cursed colorfully. Then she slammed the door. Ten seconds later, it sprang open again.

"Right." Alicia tugged at the blouse, now the correct way around. "Are those for me?" She reached for the bouquet. "They're gorgeous."

He flung them upwards. "Oh, no."

"No?"

"Nope." He grinned. "They're for your mother."

Alicia pulled a face. "You're such a suck-up." She didn't sound displeased about it, though. He trailed her to the car. "Can I drive? It'll calm my nerves."

"You sure?"

"Please?"

She jutted out her bottom lip, tilting her head to the left. Oliver sucked in a breath. Dear god. This woman was trying to kill him; he was sure of it. "One day," he sighed, "I'll learn to say no to you."

She seized the car keys triumphantly. "But not for a very long time, I hope."

They spent most of the twenty-minute drive to Dundee discussing the restaurant, and her mother's quirks (Oliver prepared to answer a lot of questions about the last time he spoke to his mother, and also how she was doing). It was only when they were pulling into the city that Alicia changed the topic.

"Oh, I forgot to mention." Alicia flipped on the turn signal. "My sister will be there tonight as well."

Oliver froze. "Tess? The one that loves The Patriots?"

Maybe Alicia had two sisters, Oliver thought hopefully. Maybe they were meeting a really lovely older sister named Agatha that had three cats and lived in a trailer park with no WiFi or access to magazines. But Alicia nodded.

"That's the one," she confirmed. "She's excited to meet you."

Oliver swallowed. Oh, god. She didn't know the half of it. "When you say she likes The Patriots, how much do you mean?"

Because if Tess simply had a few songs downloaded on her iPhone, then Oliver could maybe get away with it. But Alicia rolled her eyes. "Oh, Tess is a superfan."

"Would she recognize them? Like, if she saw them in person?"

"Recognize them?" Alicia snorted. "Please, Tess would know their voices if she was concussed and blind-folded. She's obsessed. Truly."

Oliver gripped the door handle. Would it really be such a bad idea to throw himself out of the moving car? The road rash would be a bitch, but he wasn't far from a hospital. Brooks could pick him up.

"You know what?" His voice was high. "Maybe we should turn around. Spend an evening in the hotel, just the two of us."

She shot him an odd look. "I thought you were good with parents."

"I'm starting to reconsider."

"Oh, god." Her grip tightened on the wheel. "Please don't panic. I'm already panicking, Ollie, and if you start panicking too, then I'm going to lose it. For real."

Which was how, ten minutes later, Oliver found himself stepping through the doors of a rather fancy-looking chophouse. Like a sacrificial lamb to the slaughter. Or a cow, he thought anxiously, his eyes landing on a fellow diner's steak, as the case may be.

Alicia gave their name to a waiter. Oliver rubbed at his face and generally did his best to hide any discerning features.

"Ah, yes." The waiter clicked a few keys. "The others in your party have already arrived." He scooped two menus up. "Follow me, please."

Oliver trailed the waiter around circular tables, trying not to stumble in the dark. Christ, everything about this place was dark; dark leather booths, black horned chandeliers, onyx-coloured dishes... the only light came from the burning candles placed by the legs of the tables. A disaster waiting to happen, in Oliver's humble opinion.

"Here we are," the waiter said. "This is your—"

He was cut off by the screech of a chair.

An older woman rushed forward, seizing his shoulders. She was rather short — much shorter than Alicia, anyways — but there was no mistaking the resemblance. This was Alicia's mother, Mrs. Rosa Martinez.

"Él es muy guapo," she exclaimed. "Alicia, tú no me dijiste eso!"

"Er." Oliver blinked. "Hi." He extended the flowers. "These are for you."

This set off another torrent of Spanish. Alicia smiled at Oliver's terrified expression, as if she was sharing a private joke with herself. Gently, she pried her mother off of him. "Mum, this is Oliver. Ollie, this is my mother, Rosa."

"Hi."

"And this," Alicia said, pushing a girl forward, "is Tess."

Oliver looked at Tess. Tess looked back at Oliver. And, with a sinking feeling, Oliver realized the jig was up.

"Oh, my god!" Tess's eyes were saucers. "I can't believe it. You're—"

Oliver kicked over a candle.

The tablecloth went up in flames. Dishes went everywhere. Alicia sprang back, saying a number of words that Oliver heavily suspected that she wouldn't normally say in front of her mother, pointing at the blaze.

"Fire!" she shrieked. "The table's on fire!"

A waiter darted forward with a pitcher of water. And Oliver, seizing advantage of the chaos, tugged Tess into a corner.

A/N: So you know how they say "write what you know"? I have to admit that I don't know Spanish; I grew up in Canada, where I studied French for most of schooling (Est-ce que tu parles français?)

Basically, if you're a native Spanish speaker and you're laughing at my terrible attempts to write dialogue, please, PLEASE correct me! I would love any input.

Affectionately,

J.K.