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His face fell the second I spoke, all happiness draining from it. “What, what has happened to her?” he demanded.
Fear, naked fear radiated from the man’s face. He had been expecting something. Preparing for something.
She’d been back stateside for several months, only just getting back to herself. It made sense, him being on edge.
“Nothing,” I told him quickly. “Wren is fine. Better than fine.”
A slight mistruth, considering what had been going on the past few days, but I wouldn’t worry him. Plus, it was Wren’s choice to speak to her father.
He visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping. “I was hoping now that she’s home. Now that the two of you are … back together? Her mother and I haven’t wanted to pry, but we’ve been quietly hopeful.”
Only two people like the Whitneys would be quietly hopeful that their daughter ended up with me.
“Yes,” I replied firmly. “We are back together.”
I paused as the food was set down in front of us along with two beers in frosted glasses.
Nicholas nodded in thanks to the waiter.
“That’s why I’m here,” I said once he left. “Because I want to ask your permission to marry her.”
His face went blank.
I couldn’t be sure he’d give his permission. He’d seen firsthand the man I was. Knew the kind of life Wren would have with me. It was reasonable for him to refuse.
Not that it would make a difference.
I was doing this out of courtesy.
But then his lips stretched into a smile. With all his features, he smiled. “Oh, of course, you have my permission,” he exclaimed. “Not that Wren has asked for permission for anything her entire life,” he chuckled. “And she’d probably have a speech ready about you asking me pertaining to feminism and ownership of her own self. But I admit, I’m old fashioned. I do like knowing before Wren.” He paused, opening up his napkin and laying it on his lap. “She doesn’t know yet, does she?”
I shook my head slowly. It would probably take work to convince her. She had been adamantly against marriage before.
But I didn’t plan on backing down.
He clapped his hands. “Excellent. You’re asking her tonight?”
I nodded again.
“Okay, I will have her mother arrange a party for tomorrow. Intimate, just close family and friends. I’ll see if I can get Lionel to perform.”
He was already shooting off texts.
Maybe I should’ve stopped him, let him know that the likelihood of Wren saying yes on the first try was slim, but he was too far gone. It was also amusing to see where Wren got it from.
He glanced up. “You have a ring?” he asked.
Instead of nodding, I got the box from the inside of my jacket and slid it across the table.
Nicholas’s eyes widened as he opened it. “Oh, you did good, son.”
I didn’t reply to that.
Because I already knew I did good. Fucking great. And it had nothing to do with the ring.
WREN
I stared at the clinic, pushing my shades onto my head so I could see closer. My eyes narrowed at the protestors, there to make the hardest decision of a woman’s life that much more horrible. I gripped the steering wheel, overcome with a fury so pure I was surprised my skin didn’t burn from the heat of my blood.
