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In addition to having never really been at the point of wanting to introduce a man to my father, I hadn’t wanted to disappoint him.
Although he wasn’t what most people would call a worldly man, he was an excellent judge of character. Got a good sense of people within a few minutes of meeting them. He hadn’t exactly set the shotgun to lean against the front door with my high school dates—there weren’t many of those since my boobs didn’t show up till eighteen—but he hadn’t welcomed anyone in to the family either. That was because my father knew my dreams of leaving my tiny hometown and didn’t want any boy or unplanned pregnancy stopping me from doing that, despite the fact that he’d had me on the pill since I was thirteen.
I respected my father. So very much. I respected his opinions and never wanted him to be disappointed in me. Which is the main reason why I hadn’t brought any men home to him. Because I’d known none of them would impress him, would earn his respect. Of course, now that I was a grown woman, my father wouldn’t overtly show his disapproval, he trusted me. But I’d see it, nonetheless.
I knew Jay would make an impression. A lot of impressions. All of them negative. He was dangerous, he was cold, rude, and completely and utterly bad for me. All things my father would see within seconds of meeting him.
It would be a tense weekend. That was already certain.
Yet despite all of my protests, I wanted to bring Jay home to my father, despite all of the reasons I had not to.
Because I was falling in love with him. Because he was doing something to me, changing me irrevocably. Permanently. A I needed witnesses to that. I needed someone to be in on this so when it ended, there would be someone else to recognize he’d been here, in my life, and I wouldn’t think I had imagined him. There was no room for social engagements thus far in our arrangement, beyond the ones he arranged. He wasn’t going to meet my friends, that much was clear. But for whatever reason, he had insisted on meeting my father.
I was in so much trouble. But I couldn’t seem to find a way out of it. Or more accurately, I did not want to get out of it. Not yet.
I had called my father to inform him that Jay was coming, despite the urge I’d had to not tell him until Jay was on his doorstep. What a terrible coward I was.
But my father had not raised a coward.
“Pumpkin,” Dad greeted when I called him the week of Thanksgiving. “I’m going to need you to bring me some more of that green crap to put in my morning smoothies. Do you have time before you leave to get some?”
I grinned, despite my nerves. Though my father had yet to emerge or evolve past his generation in many ways, in regard to the most important of things, he was progressive. He was a feminist, and he believed in equality for everyone, regardless of religion, race, sexuality. He also drank green smoothies daily, had swapped his afternoon coffee for herbal tea and practiced yoga five times a week. These were things I was incredibly happy about because I adored my father, and the prospect of him leaving this world absolutely sickened me.
“I already have three canisters in my suitcase,” I replied. “If you’d let me just set up a subscription service—”
“I don’t want some fancy pants company having my address and selling it to credit card companies. I get enough junk mail as it is,” he grumbled.
I grinned wider, having already known this was the response I’d get. My father had yet to experience the joys of online shopping.
“You got everything else sorted before you leave?” Dad continued. “Got your flight times right? I don’t need you calling me from the airport telling me you missed the flight because you thought it was p.m. not a.m.”
I scowled. “That happened one time, Dad,” I snapped.
“Twice,” he countered.
“Whatever,” I rolled my eyes. “I’ve got the times right, and I’m also bringing someone with me.”
“If you’re bringing Wren again, you were supposed to give me at least two weeks warning so I could prepare the house and the town at large. I don’t think we’ve quite recovered from her last visit.”
He last visit was three years ago.
Wren had made quite the impression.
“Not Wren,” I confessed. “A man I’ve been seeing.”
Silence rang as my dad digested the information. I bit my lip.
“A man?” Dad repeated.
“A real one. Not blow up or anything.”
Dad didn’t laugh at this. “What’s his name?”
“Jay,” I responded.
“Is he gainfully employed?”
I smirked just a little at that one. “Yes.”
“Spent time in prison?”
I bit my lip again. I couldn’t exactly answer that because I didn’t know much about Jay’s past. In fact, I didn’t know anything. I knew it was dark. It was dangerous. That it most likely included criminal acts. That he’d probably done things that could’ve landed him in jail, but I figured Jay was too smart and wealthy enough to avoid it.
