Текст книги "The Will"

Автор книги: Kristen Ashley

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When he’d stopped laughing but was still smiling, he caught my eyes again and whispered, “Lydie was right. Adorable.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothin’, babe,” he murmured but his voice was stronger when he said, “You got something to say?”

Well, here it was. I could delay no more and not only couldn’t I, I shouldn’t as I was making a fool of myself.

“This morning I behaved badly—”

“Yeah,” he interrupted me, his voice gentle. “You mentioned that shit on the phone, Josie. Heard it. Got it. We can move on from that.”

That was very kind.

I nodded while taking in a deep breath.

Then I said, “I’d like for you to come to Lavender House for dinner tomorrow night.”

His head tipped to the side and he asked, “Yeah?”

“Yes, I think…” I hesitated then admitted, “Actually, I don’t know what I think except for the fact that you’re correct. Gran clearly very much wanted us to get to know each other and, well…we should do that.”

“Yeah,” he said again and it was gentle again. “We should.”

Now was the hard part.

“I, well…I’m just uncertain how she wanted us to get to know each other and we should probably discuss that. But I…well, that is to say I believe—”

“Babe,” he yet again interrupted and it was still gentle, but this time more so, “This is not that. You’re pretty, really fuckin’ pretty, and you got a lot goin’ on and all of it’s real good. But you’re not my thing.”

I was confused.

“Your thing?”

“My type,” he explained. “I get off on big hair and big…” he hesitated, his lips again quirking before he continued, “other stuff and don’t mind my women showin’ skin. You’re a seriously good thing. You’re just not my thing.”

I understood what he meant and three seconds ago, if I was told I’d be given this knowledge, I would have guessed that I would find it a relief.

Having it, I didn’t feel relief. I felt a number of things but none of those things were relief. They were far from it. They included my brain again feeling fevered and my skin again prickling, all over, like jolts of electricity were dancing across the entirety of it. I wanted to claw at it, rip it off and this made all of it worse because I didn’t know why.

To hide this reaction, I turned my head away and looked down at the pavement at my side.

When I did, I felt him move, felt his body come close to mine and heard his voice whisper, “Shit, babe.” A pause then, “Fuckin’ shit.”

After he said that, I felt his big, warm hand curl at the side of my neck and I looked up at him.

When I did, he said softly, “I didn’t think I’d be your thing either.”

I told the truth. “You’re not.” After I did that, I lied (or it felt like I lied, but I actually didn’t know what I was thinking), “I think you’ve mistaken my reaction to your pronouncement.”

His lips yet again quirked and his fingers at my neck squeezed and he asked, “And what’s your reaction to my pronouncement?”

“I don’t understand what Gran wanted for you and me.”

“Maybe she wanted us to be friends?” he inquired, but even doing it, it was an answer. “Maybe she wanted to know you got someone who cares, who’ll look out for you, listen to you, take your back when you need it and give a shit not just when you need it but all the time?”

There it was.

The answer to my questions.

But I still didn’t understand.

“Yes,” I whispered. “She’d want that for me.” My eyes strayed to his shoulder and I murmured, “But that makes no sense. She knows I have Henry.”

“A boss is a boss,” he declared, giving me a hint of what Gran had shared with him and that was that he knew precisely who Henry was. I looked back to him when he kept talking. “Always, Josie. He can give a shit but bottom line, it comes down to it, whatever that it might be or even if it never happens, he’s just a boss.”

I, of course, knew Henry was my employer. There were times when knowing this was all he’d ever really be was painful.

But after two decades and then some together, that had grown.

Hadn’t it?

“Henry is—” I started.

“Not here,” he interrupted me to say. “He gave a shit, Josie, no way in fuck, don’t give a shit what excuses you might have for the guy, would he be anywhere but sittin’ at your side while you cried behind your shades, starin’ at your grandmother’s casket.”

Well, there was the answer to that.

He saw me crying at the funeral.

Jake wasn’t done.

“And, he was here, no way you’d have dinner alone last night, open to some fuckwad to make a pass and upset you. That’s the bottom line, babe. Think about it.”

I stared into his eyes and thought about it.

Henry wanted to come, declared he was going to come, but I told him that he had to do the shoot. He was contracted. It was set up. And a location shoot for a magazine wasn’t something you walked away from. A number of people were involved and quite a bit of money.

Further, Henry never did things like that. Even when he had the flu that one time when we were in Alaska, shooting a bathing suit spread in the snow, he’d zipped up his parka and done the shoot. He had a reputation for not only his immense talent but his dependability, his easy-going ways and his bent toward no muss, no fuss.

But Jake was correct. The bottom line was, when I told him not to come with me and do the job, he’d agreed.

“Josie,” Jake called and I focused on him again. When I did, his fingers gave me another squeeze and he asked, “You have dinner tonight?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Honey, you gotta eat.”

It took me a moment to respond. This was because four people in my life called me honey. My father, when he was in a good mood or he’d done something horrible and was trying to make amends. Gran. Henry.

And now Jake.

And Jake’s, like Gran’s and Henry’s, felt nice.

I let myself feel that before I assured him, “I went to the grocery store today. I’ll have some fruit and cheese when I get home.”

“Right. And tomorrow night”—he grinned—“you promise you aren’t gonna disappear, I’ll show. But I gotta say, Ethan’s gonna be with me. Not givin’ Amber another hour to do fucked up shit with her moron of a boyfriend and not givin’ her another wad of cake to blow on mascara.”

This was not good news.

Not that he’d agreed to come. I was actually looking forward to that in a strange way I didn’t quite comprehend.

No. Because I didn’t like children. I found them loud and attention-seeking. They interrupted and, these days, parents didn’t admonish them for this rudeness. They broke things. They spilled things. They whined. They refused to eat food they hadn’t even tried, declaring erroneously they didn’t like it when they could have no idea if they did or didn’t.

And when they ate, they often did it with their mouths open, which was repulsive.

Obviously, I shared none of this with Jake Spear.

“Is there anything he, or you, don’t like to eat?” I asked instead.

“Ethan helped Lydie cook a bunch a’ shit in that kitchen. She taught him to dig his food however that comes. I already learned that so whatever you make, we’ll eat.”

I highly doubted that, at least about Ethan.

I didn’t share that either.

“All right,” I replied.

“We’ll be there at six.”

Six.

Very early.

Wonderful.

Well, I’d have to work with that seeing as his son probably had to be at school early the next day or do homework or take care of the class gerbil or something so they couldn’t be out late.

“Fine,” I agreed.

“Okay,” he murmured, again grinning.

Then he said nothing.

I didn’t either.

When this stretched for some time, and the fact that his warm hand was still wrapped around my neck became uncomfortable mostly because it didn’t feel uncomfortable in the slightest, I broke our silence.

“Are we done?”

“Not by a long shot,” he answered. I drew in a deep breath at his reply and he finished, “But we are for now.”

“Well then…goodnight, Jake.”

“Right,” he muttered and I watched, my eyes widening in surprise as he leaned in and whispered against the skin of my forehead, “’Night, Josie.”

I felt his lips brush there and that was also not uncomfortable. Not in the slightest. In fact, it felt so not uncomfortable as to make my skin again prickle but this time in a different way.

He pulled back, gave me a squeeze at the neck and a smile before he slid away.

I watched him move for a second before I forced myself to stop watching him move.

I did this by getting in my car, starting it up and not looking back as I drove away.

Chapter Five

Good Night

The bell rang at six-oh-four the next evening and I moved quickly to the front door, feeling the strange anticipation I’d been experiencing all day heightening significantly to the point I was finding it difficult to breathe.

I stopped at the carved, polished wood door and my mind for some reason took flight.

And where it landed was that I decided I should polish the door, as I had many times at Gran’s behest and as I’d seen her do many times as well.

I then turned my attention to my attire.

I’d gone for casual seeing as it was a home-cooked family dinner. Jeans that were expertly faded and again bootcut. Nude, patent leather platform pumps with peekaboo toes. And a blush colored cashmere sweater with a high neckline that was a slash from shoulder to shoulder. It had deep batwings but the wings ended just below my elbows and the knit was tight along my forearms.

Subtle makeup that was a hint dewy.

And my hair was pulled back in soft twists on either side that led to a plethora of slightly teased, full curls I’d arranged in a supremely feminine chignon at the back of my head.

The hairstyle was more suited to an evening gown but I liked its complex elegance juxtaposed with my casual garments, so I’d gone with it.

I realized I was thinking about my clothes while Jake and his son were standing outside waiting for me to open the door. Therefore, I stopped thinking about my clothes and opened the door.

When I did, I froze solid.

This was not because Jake Spear was standing there exuding his demanding masculinity wearing a dark blue turtleneck, faded jeans and brown boots (or, not only because of that).

This was also not because his young son was standing in front of him wearing a sweatshirt that declared his devotion to some sports team, his black hair was in disarray and he was staring up at me for some strange reason with his mouth wide open.

No, it was because, standing removed at her father’s side, was Jake Spear’s daughter wearing a surly expression, way too much makeup, having her hair teased out in a style that even Jake’s exotic dancers eschewed and sporting a short knit skirt that I knew, when she moved, would ride up in ways that would be quite alarming.

She was not supposed to be there.

I could, maybe, handle one child. But a child and a surly teenaged girl who dressed like her heart’s desire for a future profession was to dance at her father’s club?

No.

“Yo, babe,” Jake greeted and my eyes shot to him. “Woulda called but seein’ as Amber was grounded about two minutes before we left the house, it wouldn’t have helped anyway. So, as you can see, Amber’s here. If you don’t have enough food for her, I’ll order a pizza or something.”

I forced my lips to move in order to assure him, “I have enough food.”

“Great,” he replied.

I stood there.

They stood there too.

Then I realized I was standing there and that was rude so I turned my eyes to Amber.

“Hello, Amber. I’m Josephine. It’s lovely to meet you.”

She glared at me and muttered, “Whatever.”

“Babe,” Jake clipped at his daughter in a clear warning.

Her baleful eyes cut to him then back to me whereupon she mumbled, “’Lo.”

I decided to leave it at that and looked down to the boy.

“Hello, Ethan.”

He stared up at me for two seconds then bizarrely surged forward, threw himself bodily at me and wrapped his arms around my waist, pressing close.

I’d never had a child hug me. I’d never even had a child touch me. Therefore I didn’t know what to do and thus stood there with my hands slightly raised, staring down at his dark head hoping I wasn’t doing it in horror.

He didn’t seem to mind that I didn’t return his embrace. As quickly as he came forward, he released me, jumped back and looked up at me.

“Lydie talked about you all the time,” he announced.

That felt lovely, very lovely, but even so, I wished I could say the same.

However, I didn’t get to the chance to say anything because he kept speaking.

“You’re way prettier than she said and all your pictures.”

At least that was nice.

I decided a return compliment was in order so I gave him one.

“And you’re quite handsome.”

He grinned a grin I had to admit was rather adorable.

“Yeah. I know. Look like Dad and he’s the hottest dude in town,” he declared.

This was likely not in error.

“He is not,” Amber put in at this point, shoving forward and doing it grabbing her brother and taking him with her as they pushed past me. “Mickey’s way hotter than Dad. And Coert might be even hotter”

“Are not,” Ethan returned as they moved into the house.

“Are so,” she retorted. “And everyone knows Boston Stone is Magdalene’s most eligible bachelor.”

To that, I would disagree. Mr. Stone may be wealthy but money was not everything.

“Boston Stone may be loaded, Amber, but he’s not all that. And anyway, his name is retarded,” Ethan shot back.

I would use a less offensive adjective but it seemed Ethan and I were of like minds.

“Josie.” I heard murmured from close.

I started and looked up just in time to see that Jake was close. Very close. Close enough to curve his fingers around my hip, lean in and brush his lips against my cheek.

Oh my.

Again, he smelled very nice, his scent assaulting my senses in a way that was far from unpleasant.

He pulled back and as he did so, I attempted to pull myself together. However, this was difficult seeing as, in the dim light of the foyer, his eyes had again changed color. They appeared now to be an inky blue.

With effort, I took my thoughts from his mercurial eye color and greeted, “Hello, Jake.”

He grinned.

Then he used his hand on my hip to shove me gently in the house before he let me go to close the door.

When I just stood there staring up at him, he tipped his head toward the house as an indication we should enter it and I decided to stop making an idiot of myself and get moving.

This I did, hurrying down the hall toward the kitchen.

The instant I hit the room, Ethan turned his eyes to me and exclaimed, “It smells boss!”

“Jesus Christ, it does, Josie,” Jake agreed, coming to a stop beside me. “Wasn’t hungry, smell that smell, now I’m starved.”

I had no idea why but their comments made me feel suddenly very warm.

“It smells like meat,” Amber oddly declared and I looked to her.

“It smells like a lotta shit, Amber, but not meat,” Jake replied.

She ignored her father, looked to me and announced. “I’m a vegetarian.”

“Yeah, she decided that this morning,” Jake noted at my side.

“Killing animals for human consumption is disgusting,” she informed her father.

“Wonder what killing daughters for bein’ pains in the ass is,” Jake muttered in a voice that could likely only be heard by me and I found his remark so amusing I had to swallow down a laugh.

“Holy crap!” Ethan cried and my eyes shot to him to see he was now standing in the open refrigerator. He slowly turned, pointing inside the fridge, and asked with open wonder, “What is that?”

I looked into the refrigerator then back at Ethan. “It’s a pavlova.”

“It’s a what?” he queried.

“A pavlova. Meringue, cream and strawberries. We’re having it for dessert,” I replied then turned my gaze to Amber. “In your vegetarianism, do you eat eggs?”

“Yes,” Jake answered for his daughter.

“No,” Amber answered for herself at the same time.

“This is unfortunate as meringues are made of egg whites,” I shared with her.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” she returned. “I don’t eat dessert. My ass is already fat enough.”

I looked down to her ass and saw she was very wrong.

I didn’t address this mistaken impression of her body, although I had a strange and overwhelming desire to do so. This was partly because I didn’t know what to say. It was mostly because Ethan had taken a blue beverage from the refrigerator that I’d noticed prior and wondered about (thus wondering no longer) and Amber had turned her attention to her brother.

“Get me one of those, runt,” she demanded.

“You want one, don’t call me a runt,” he rejoined.

She gave him a face.

He returned it.

“Grab me a beer, will you, bud?” Jake called, moving deeper into the room.

I moved into it too, stating, “Dinner is almost ready. We’ll be eating shortly as I didn’t want to delay you should you need to get home early in order to take care of the class gerbil or do homework or something.”

“Their homework’s out in the truck, Josie,” Jake told my back.

“And we got a hamster in class, not a gerbil. But I never get to watch him seein’ as I killed the last one when it was my turn to take him home for the weekend,” Ethan also shared this relatively dire information with my back.

I turned to him and the room to see father and son had drinks and Amber’s head was in the fridge.

They seemed comfortable here and I knew they were because they’d been in that kitchen time and time again.

It was still strange.

And it was also strangely welcome.

“Dad said it was his time,” Ethan shared. “Not because I dropped him on his head.”

I blinked.

“He was squirrely. He didn’t want me to hold him and he got his way,” Ethan further explained.

I said nothing.

“Don’t worry, honey, we bought the class another hamster,” Jake assured me.

Before I could reply, Ethan dashed to me and asked, “Can I help with something?”

“Well, you could but most everything is done. I just have to mash the potatoes,” I told him.

“I can so mash potatoes. Lydie taught me how,” he declared.

She’d taught me how too. And knowing she taught him how made me feel even warmer.

I didn’t share this.

“All right then.” I moved to the stove. “Let’s get these drained and get you started.”

“Amber, babe, put another place setting on the table.” I heard Jake order quietly as Ethan shadowed me carrying my pan of boiled potatoes from Aga to sink.

Thus commenced the final preparations for dinner where not only Ethan but everyone got in on the act.

I found in supervising him that Ethan was expert at mashing potatoes.

I also found that Amber knew where everything was and put another place setting on the kitchen table that I’d already prepared (I felt a family dinner should be consumed in the kitchen, not made formal in the dining room, so that was where we were to eat).

Even Jake helped and he did this by ordering Amber to assist with putting the peas, carrots and corn in bowls and working alongside her, putting the warmed rolls in a basket.

When I approached the table with the main dish, all was on it. Jake had even put my wineglass and the bottle of wine I’d opened earlier and began consuming while preparing dinner by my seat at the end.

“Shit, babe, you made meatloaf?”

My alarmed eyes cut to Jake to see him staring at the dish I was arrested in the endeavor of putting it on the table.

He was also smiling which was contradictory to his tone and thus confusing.

“Rosemary meatloaf with a tomato-based sauce,” I told him.

“It…smells…awesome!” Ethan announced, his big eyes on the meatloaf.

“Rosemary meatloaf with a tomato-based sauce,” Jake strangely repeated after me, his gaze moving from the dish to my face.

“Don’t you like meatloaf?” I asked, finally setting the dish on a scrolled-iron hot plate.

“I do,” he replied. “Though, a pretty woman who wears five hundred dollar shoes and two hundred dollar sweaters serving meatloaf is shocking as shit. I thought we’d have to force down coq au vin or something.”

I decided not to inform him that my shoes were six hundred dollars and my sweater four. I also made a mental note, should they come over for dinner again, that I shouldn’t make my coq au vin, which I thought was excellent and was one of my signature dishes, but clearly it would not be well-received.

Then again, I had no chance to inform him of anything as he continued speaking.

“Though, rosemary meatloaf in a tomato-based sauce is less of a surprise. Not sure I’ve ever had rosemary in meatloaf, but by the look and smell of it, I’m lookin’ forward to it.”

I tossed the oven mitts I was wearing to the butcher block and sat, murmuring, “Well, I hope it satisfies.”

“I’m just glad there’s lots of veggies and rolls,” Amber mumbled into our exchange.

Jake sighed.

“Can we dig in?” Ethan asked.

“Please do,” I invited.

Without delay, they did.

It was after bowls were passed around and plates were passed to me so I could cut and serve the meatloaf and everyone was eating, all of this done in silence (and rather swiftly), when I decided conversation was in order.

“And what’s your eldest son doing this evening? Um…Conner,” I asked Jake.

“Probably a threesome,” Amber muttered.

Ethan chuckled.

I stared at her with wide eyes.

Jake bit out, “Amber.”

She looked down to her plate.

Jake looked to me. “He’s got a job in town, Josie. He works at Wayfarer’s. He’s on tonight.”

“Ah,” I murmured.

With nothing else to add to that, we all resumed eating.

After I buttered my roll (purchased, incidentally, at Wayfarer’s Grocers, the only market in town—it had a variety of the usual sundries but mostly it was a gourmet market with a superb butcher’s counter, fresh organic vegetables, an extraordinary seafood selection, a large plethora of cheeses, and a fabulous bakery that made excellent breads, rolls and also pastries), I asked, “And how old is everybody?”

“I’m eight,” Ethan shared immediately, mouth full.

Amber said nothing so Jake told me, “Amber’s sixteen. Conner is seventeen, nearly eighteen. She’s a junior, he’s a senior.”

“Ah,” I repeated my murmur, surprised at Conner’s age. He’d appeared older.

We again lapsed into silence as we continued to consume the meal.

“This is really good, babe,” Jake eventually said.

I looked to him and smiled, again feeling warm inside. “Thank you.”

He winked at me and turned his attention back at his plate.

But when he winked at me, my stomach did something strange. It felt like it dropped and when it did, tingles shot across my skin, and neither were disagreeable sensations.

They were, however, confusing ones. But it wasn’t the time to process them so I looked to Amber to see her eyeing the meatloaf.

I felt my lips curl up slightly.

She was no vegetarian and although she loaded her plate with veggies and potatoes, I knew she wanted to try the meatloaf that her father and brother were gratifyingly devouring.

I didn’t bring attention to this. I picked up the basket with the rolls and offered it to her.

“Would you like another?”

She looked to me then back to her plate. “I’m good.”

I studied her as I put down the basket.

She was very becoming and thus I wasn’t surprised she had a boyfriend. She probably could have several if she chose.

And more if she didn’t look like a teenaged lady of the evening.

Studying her, I made a decision and put it into action.

“Amber,” I called and she looked at me. “I don’t know if my grandmother told you, but I work in fashion.”

“Yeah, she said,” she muttered, looking back to her almost empty plate. It seemed that was mostly all she could do: mutter, mumble and murmur.

She also had a lovely voice so this was unfortunate.

Now was not the time to get into that, however.

Priorities.

“Then, I hope you don’t mind that I share, you’re exceptionally pretty.”

Her eyes darted back to me and they held some surprise.

And this surprised me. Surely, she’d looked in the mirror.

Then again, the way she applied cosmetics, perhaps not.

I kept speaking.

“However, you’ve a heavy hand with cosmetics. Your eyeliner is quite thick and eyebrow pencils are meant to fill in what’s already there, not draw something new.”

The air in the room changed as Amber’s face changed. It went slack then started twisting.

Nevertheless, no mention had been made of these children’s mother, Jake was clearly no longer with any of his wives and someone had to tell her.

It was imperative.

So I kept talking.

“Jean-Michel DuChamp taught me how to do makeup,” I declared, her face stopped twisting, her eyes got huge and her lips parted. “If you’d like, I’d be happy to show you some of the things he showed me. You’ve clearly got an eye to what shades suit you best, you simply use too much of them.”

“You know Jean-Michel DuChamp?” she breathed.

“Of course,” I replied.

She blinked rapidly for a long moment before she told me, “I’ve got both his books. The one where he did all those supermodels up in crazy ways, like making that chick look like a baby doll and doing Acadie up in that badass futuristic look. I also have the other one where he did awesome stuff with all those Hollywood movie stars.”

I knew the model Acadie. She was very beautiful as well as very sweet. I also knew of those books mostly because Henry had worked on one.

“Henry shot that one with the models,” I told her.

“Ohmigod,” she whispered. “How didn’t I know that? Lydie told us you worked for Henry Gagnon. I should have known that.”

I shrugged. “I’ve no idea how you didn’t know, though that book was about Jean-Michel’s vision, not Henry’s photos. He’s often like that. Sometimes, it’s about the pictures. Sometimes it’s about what’s in the pictures. And when it’s the latter, he doesn’t like overshadowing that. He was credited in the book, of course, but with that book, he wished for it to be about Jean-Michel so, if memory of his contract serves, his credit was unobtrusive.”

“Cool.” She was still whispering.

I threw out a hand and offered, “If you like, I can take a photo of you. I’ll send it to Jean-Michel and ask him to share some pointers. He does this for me often. I’ll take a picture of an outfit I’m wearing and tell him where I’m wearing it and he’ll email me rather detailed instructions on how to make up my face. I’m sure he’d be happy to do something of that ilk for you.”

Her eyes were now very large and very bright and she was still whispering when she said, “Are you freaking serious?”

“Of course,” I replied.

“Ohmigod, oh my freaking God,” she breathed and then looked to her father. “Dad, you so have to lift the ban on my cell. I have to tell Taylor and Taylor about this!”

Jake opened his mouth but I was able to ask before he said anything, “Taylor and Taylor?”

“Her best friends,” Ethan answered. “Taylor is a girl. The other Taylor is a boy and he’s gay.”

“He wants to be a makeup artist just like Jean-Michel,” Amber shared. “And Taylor wants to be a model.”

“You can tell them at school tomorrow,” Jake put in at this point and Amber’s eyes shot back to her father.

“Dad! Please! Seriously, we’re talking Jean-Michel DuChamp!” she cried. “They have to know, like now.”

“Babe, you’d cut the shit you been pullin’, they’d know, like now. But you didn’t cut the shit you been pullin’ so they’re gonna know, like tomorrow,” Jake stated and finished on a, “Yeah?”

“That’s totally unfair and totally crazy,” she returned. “It’s like…like…Jimmy Choo strolled in and offered to fit me with shoes and you won’t let me tell my friends about a dream come true.”

Surprisingly, it appeared I shared some things in common with Amber as well.

“Tomorrow, Amber,” Jake declared.

“God!” Amber snapped and slouched back in her chair.

“This is, alas, a rather difficult lesson,” I noted and felt all eyes come to me but I was looking at Amber. “I don’t know what…shit you’ve been pulling but it clearly upsets your father. You can, of course, choose to act dramatically and feel misunderstood. But in truth, the easiest route to getting what you want is behaving as your father wishes. Then, your freedoms would be granted and you’d not feel like you’re feeling right now. And thus, you would be able to share this with your friends.”

“Right. Do what he wishes when Dad’s totally unreasonable,” she hissed.

“And how is that?” I asked.

“He doesn’t like Noah,” she answered.

“And who is Noah?” I queried.

“My boyfriend and he’s totally righteous,” she replied.

“I’m uncertain I understand,” I admitted. “Your father is being unreasonable because he does not share your opinion that this Noah is”—I paused—“righteous?”

“No,” she said. “He’s being unreasonable because Noah wants to take me to a concert in Boston and Dad refuses to let me go when everyone’s going. It’s just one state over, it’s not like it’s in Miami or anything. And I guess Dad didn’t like it all that much when I told him exactly how I felt about him being totally unreasonable.”

“She used the f-word,” Ethan shared. “Like, a bazillion times.”

Good God.

The f-word?

It was clear someone needed to take this girl in hand and having her at my grandmother’s table with my grandmother not there to do it, I decided it would be me.

“First,” I began, “A lady shouldn’t curse. It’s crass. There are times when foul words have their uses but they are rare. Second, the idea of a sixteen year old girl going to another state with her boyfriend to see a concert is utterly preposterous.”

She stared at me, again blinking rapidly, and I heard a grunt come from Jake but I was not done.

“Amber, I’m certain I don’t need to point out your father is a man—” I began but she lost her astonishment and interrupted me.

“No, you don’t need to point that out,” she snapped.

“As I was saying,” I went on unperturbed when she’d stopped snapping. “Your father is a man which means he was once a young man much like your Noah. You’re an exceptionally pretty young woman. I’m certain this fact is also not lost on your father. It would be my guess that your father knows much more about young men, seeing as he used to be one, than you do. So, if he dislikes this Noah, if you look at it from this perspective, he probably knows what he’s talking about.”

I heard another grunt, this one swallowed and amused from Jake. I also heard a not-swallowed giggle from Ethan but I kept going even as Amber glared at me.

“Regardless, Noah could be a paragon of virtue but if your father loves you, it’s his duty as a father not to like him. If he didn’t care you were spending time with a boy, that’s when you should be upset. The fact that he cares about anything, Amber, says a great deal and you should take a moment and hear him because he does.”