The clacking of cutlery stopped, and Paul’s entire family waited expectantly. “Well,” she said, taking a deep breath. “There’s not much to say. I’m an only child, I was studying medicine, but I’ve put my schooling on hold to work on a business venture. I love to travel.” Was meeting a prospective partner’s parents always like this? It felt like an awkward job interview and she hated running off the aspects of her life like items on a grocery list. She shifted in her seat, her eyes darting to Paul silently begging him for help. “Her favorite movie is Die Hard,” Paul added. “The first one?” Paul’s father, Darren, asked. It was the first thing he’d said all evening. Libby smiled. “Of course.” “You know, I don’t know why they made the fourth and fifth ones,” he said, shaking his head. The older man had dark hair with a smattering of gray around the temples, he wore thin wire-rimmed glasses and, though he looked like the stern silent type, his face lit up at the change of conversation.
