Part 2The Man Who Nurtures Me

Come to think of it, Liam and I also met on a blind date. And our mothers are also the best of friends.

When my mom first suggested I meet her friend's son, I was reluctant. My type was very specific: big-chested, gentle, husband material. Liam's mom was five-foot-two and weighed maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet. His dad was the opposite, six feet tall and built like a friendly bear. I couldn't imagine what their son would look like. What if he wasn't my type? It would be so awkward to turn him down and potentially strain our mothers' friendship.

My mom just waved off my concerns. "Do you think I don't know what you like? I've seen him. Trust me, you'll be more than satisfied."

My heart sank. Then she produced a photo. A guy in his twenties, sunglasses, leather jacket. Not bad-looking. Broad shoulders, trim waist, lean muscle. But still, not the type to make my jaw drop.

As I was about to sigh, my mom grinned. "That's not Liam."

I was confused. "Then who is it?"

"That's his dad."

My world tilted. There was no way the cool, lean guy in the photo was the same person as Liam's cheerful, portly father.

"Don't judge a book by its cover," my mom said, tucking the photo away. "His dad only gained weight because of medication. Back in the day, he was the village heartthrob. And Liam... well, let's just say the apple didn't fall far from the tree. In fact, it rolled to a much better spot. Just go see for yourself."