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Oliver grabs another garlic knot from the basket, seemingly oblivious to the tension crackling between Natasha and myself. Whether or not he’s caught on to the ruse, I have no business flirting with my son’s friend, even if she is too damn adorable for her own good.
“What are you kids planning to do this summer?” I swirl the ice in my glass as I wait for their reply.
Oliver flashes a meaningful look at Natasha.
“Actually,” he says, “we were thinking we’d move into Grandpa’s old lake house for the summer.”
“You meanmylake house?” The question comes out harsher than I intend.
Oliver clears his throat. “Yeah. I guess it’syourlake house now. We were thinking we’d head up there this weekend.”
Natasha’s words from earlier in the day echo back to me. She wants to have sex this weekend, possibly at a party.
My fist clenches around my glass. I shouldn’t be so worked up over this. I have no obligation to Natasha, and she has none to me. Yet the protectiveness I felt during her appointment is back with a vengeance.
“You want to throw a party at my lake house,” I say.
“Why the hell do you keep saying it like that?” Oliver barks. “It’s not like you ever go there.”
“For your information, I drove out to the lake last weekend. I’m not sure what you’re expecting to find, but the place hasn’t seen a vacuum in years. It needswork. Work that I’ve already started because I plan on spending weekends there.”
“Of course you do…” Oliver shakes his head. Natasha lays a hand on his arm, which seems to calm him. “Look, Dad, we worked hard all last semester. We just want to celebrate the end of exams.”
“Will there be alcohol?” I ask.
Oliver shrugs. “I mean, yeah—”
“I won’t drink,” Natasha cuts in, answering the question I can’t ask without explaining how I know she’s not yet twenty-one. “And we’ll keep everyone inside and off the roads.”
“So they’ll be spending the night then?” I ask.
Natasha looks away, her face and chest reddening in that maddening way that makes her look like she’s glowing from the inside out.
Oliver throws up his hands. “Would you rather have people driving home drunk?”
“I’d rather not have kids drinking on my property at all. It’s a lake house, Oliver, not a dorm. People could get hurt. Someone stumbles into the water and who’s going to be there to pull them out? Do you know CPR?” I glance between the two of them, doubting either of them do. “Not to mention the possible damage to the property itself.”
“Dr. Ransom—”
“We’re not ten years old, Dad, we’re fucking adults,” Oliver snaps, cutting Natasha off. “Jesus, it’s like you think we’re gonna ransack the place for the hell of it.”
“When people drink, they make poor decisions.”
“We’re not gonna get blackout drunk!”
“—and those decisions can have lasting consequences.” I turn my gaze to Natasha, who immediately glances away. “I don’t want you doing something you’ll later regret.”
Our food arrives, and it’s a welcome pause in conversation. Oliver attacks his chicken parmesan while Natasha pushes her gnocchi around her plate.
“What if we compromise?” she says.
“Good luck,” Oliver says around a mouthful of spaghetti.
“Please, Dr. Ransom,” Natasha says, leaning just the slightest bit forward. “Just hear me out.”
Please.The word rings in my ears. I force myself to take a steadying breath. I’m already on thin ice when it comes to my son. The last thing I want is to disappoint him yet again. But I know how wild college parties can get.
I set my fork down. “What did you have in mind?”
