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He sighed. “In his eyes, I was a young man, and he expected me to act accordingly.”
“Jeez. That sounds a bit extreme.”
“It felt that way at the time, but he had his reasons for handling it the way he did. Or not handling it, depending on who you ask.”
I chewed my bottom lip, not knowing what to say. His dad sounded like a real tyrant, but he still worked for the guy, so he couldn’t have been that bad. Regardless, it wasn’t my place to judge his family dynamics after he’d shown me the same respect. “Are you wearing silly socks now?”
“But of course,” he said with a cheesy French accent as he stuck his foot out to the side and pulled one of his pant legs up.
I laughed when I saw the skunks with hearts in their eyes. “Pepé Le Pew? What are those—your lucky socks?”
“I don’t believe in that bull,” he said, tucking his leg back under the booth. “The athletes I work with are so superstitious you get sick of that nonsense real quick.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Why?” he asked, his dark brows crashing together.
“Because I’m wearing my lucky underwear.”
