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“Did the goodbye go well?” she asks as we begin to walk out.
“Yes.”
“Dad, wait!” We stop and turn at the sound of Gregory’s voice. “I know you probably don’t want me to crash the rest of your night, but can I stay with you tonight?”
“You shouldn’t feel unwelcome at your dad’s just because I might be there,” Jamie tells him.
“You always leave when I come over,” he points out, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
“That’s because she didn’t want to interfere on your time with me.” Jamie nods from next to me. “You can stay if you want.”
Gregory smiles, dashes back to tell his mother, and returns to us. We head out and drive to Shannon’s house to drop him off. He has to grab a few things and he wants his car. Jamie has been sitting with her head resting against the window.
“If you don’t want to go to the wedding, you don’t have to,” I say. We haven’t talked much since leaving the restaurant.
Jamie glances over at me. “I’ll go. Maybe we should meet my parents before the wedding and then I’ll effectively be prepared for whatever they throw at me.” She shakes her head and looks back out the window. “Have you realized in all of this that so far I’m the one being judged and hated? Wonder if it’ll be the same way with my parents,” she finishes, more to herself than me.
“People are jackasses, hon.” I don’t know what to say or how to make her feel better. She does give me a little smile as I pull into my driveway.
“Do you still want me to stay?”
“If you want to, then yes. I’d love to have you stay.”
She nods and I get out to open the door for her. Once we get inside, I park her on the couch and disappear into the kitchen. She seems a little down. She’s probably anxious for a run, but I don’t want her to run this late without me and I can’t go with Gregory coming over. My remedy is to fix her a mug of hot chocolate.
Jamie smiles when I return to the living room, handing her the mug before sitting down next to her.
“Thank you, Brent.”
I pull her into my side, her legs shifting to tuck in next to her. Gregory walks in, says hey, and disappears to drop his things off before returning to the living room and sitting in the recliner.
“Is everything okay?” I ask him. It’s not often that he wants to spend the night during the middle of the week.
“Mom’s freaking out about her low-key, no-stress wedding. I wanted to get out of there for a bit.” His eyes shift to Jamie. “I’m sorry everyone was kinda rude to you, Jamie.”
“You don’t have to apologize, Gregory,” Jamie immediately tells him. “I’ve dealt with much worse, so it’s okay.”
Gregory frowns. “It’s not okay, but I’m glad it doesn’t bother you.”
Except it does. She just doesn’t want him to think it does. I decide to change the subject and ask Gregory how school has been. I already know since he came into the shop this afternoon, but he can tell me again. The best part of tonight is Jamie talks with Gregory and gets to know him better and vice versa. At least one of my kids is being open-minded enough to get to know Jamie before judging her and not letting the age difference bother them enough to prevent that.
When their conversation dies down, Jamie sits up. “Crap. I have schoolwork to do.” She finds her bag and pulls things out. She soon sits with her back against the armrest and her legs stretched out on the couch, her feet resting on my lap. We spend the next few hours together with Gregory and I playing some video game he likes and Jamie doing her schoolwork.
Gregory eventually heads to bed. The moment he’s gone, I reach over and take Jamie’s laptop, placing it on the coffee table and do the same for the textbook on her lap.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
I grab the back of her knees and tug. Her dress slides up her thighs as her butt scoots closer to me. Now that she’s closer, I grab her again and make her straddle me.
“Brent,” she whispers, a warning in her tone. A warning with a hitch of her breath and mixed with desire as her hands rest on my chest.
“I’m sorry you’re the one getting the brunt of the backlash of us, but I love that you’re willing to face them anyway. You shouldn’t have to, though. So,” I take a deep breath, “we definitely aren’t going to the wedding.”
“What? Brent, you’re going to get into trouble!”
I shrug. “It’s not that hard to be nice and civil, hon. Making you feel like an outcast is not nice and civil. You shouldn’t have to prepare to be treated like that and I’m not going to make you.”
“Then go without me,” she interrupts with a plea.
