“You’re serious?” he asks, looking to his son. “Yeah, Dad,” Riley says earnestly, squeezing my hand. “I’m totally serious. I really like him.” Flashing me a smile, he draws our hands up, kisses my knuckles and adds, “A lot.” Charlie processes for a second and then lets out an amused puff of breath. Looking me in the eye, he holds up his coffee like he’s making a toast. “Good luck, son. My best to you.” Riley beams, clapping him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Dad.” “Wasn’t talking to you,” Charlie says matter-of-factly, returning to his breakfast casserole.
