“Until you’re not. Until you’re calling, asking for us to bail you out,” he mutters gruffly.
“I think you’re confusing me with your actual daughter.” With my retort, I waltz off to the bedroom, Bo trotting behind me.
I say nothing to Oliver when he pops his head around the bedroom door five minutes later.
“Everything all right?” There’s a careful note to his tone as he steps into the room. “You seem a little off.”
“Ragingis the word you’re looking for.” I blow out a breath as I tie the elastic at the end of my braid. “I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault. I can’t believe they just turned up.”
“You’ve nothing to be sorry about.”
“Debatable.”
He slides his hands into his pockets as he saunters closer. “I think this is worse for you than it is for me.”
“Todd is an opinionated ass. He just rubs me the wrong way. What the hell was my mother thinking when she married him?”
“I’m sure lots of people would question your sanity for being with me,” he murmurs, plucking at the end of my braid.
“Then I’d just have to set them straight. Tell them you gave me no choice.”
“Yes.” His brow furrows, but before he can step away, I link my fingers through his.
“I’ll tell them you’re a beast who forced me to live with you in your castle. But I would’ve moved in anyway if I’d known you’d always help me look for my glasses.”
“That is a very low bar you set.”
“Of all your smiles,” I murmur, touching my finger to the corner of his mouth, “this is the one that annoys me the most.”
“Because it’s suave and enigmatic?”
“Because it makes me want to kiss it from your face.” I pull his head down to mine for a kiss. When he pulls away, we’re both smiling.
“We’d better get back.”
“Urgh.” My shoulders collapse. “I’d rather stick toothpicks under my toenails and kick a wall.”
“I think I’ve heard that from you before.”
“An evening with them will be just as painful.”
“They do seem an odd match.”
“Not really. Todd is rich, and my mom likes money.”
“Ah.” There’s so much said in that tiny noise.
“I’m being unfair. She isn’t some aging gold digger. She was raised to believe she’d be little more than an ornament in her husband’s life. I don’t think she’s worked a day in more than thirty years, but that’s the path she chose.”
“Family. That other f-word. You look lovely, by the way, and I know you’re hungry—”
“I was,” I say with a frown. “They spoiled my appetite.”
“You’d better get it back, because I’ve just booked the chef’s table experience.”
“Is that one of those meals where we have to prep our own food?” I give an unimpressed twist of my lips.
“No, but that might’ve been a decent alternative.”
