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I lean forward, meeting Dad’s eyes boldly. “Well, Samantha is a professional. She’d know. Besides, we’ve all said it. It’s weird and gross.”
Dad tilts his head, silently reminding me that we’re not supposed to repeat private gossip in public, or even in front of family when it’s about other family members.
“What? You’re talking about me? About my Devin?” Aunt Vivian wails, sounding horribly wounded. “Daddy!” She pouts, turning her attention to Grandpa Chuck, and though she screws her face up, there’s not a tear in sight.
If she could stomp her foot like a toddler, I think she would. As it is, sitting at the table, she throws her napkin to her plate in a vague threat of leaving.
“Hell, if you’re starting the waterworks this early, you should’ve had your little birthdaypar-tayat Chuck E. Cheese. They’re used to dealing with tantrum-throwing kids,” Kyle suggests. “Probably used to hissy fits from adults too. Could’a just thrown you in the ball pit or something.”
“ILOVEball pits!” Grace adds helpfully.
“Vivian, I wasn’t the best father, and it’s one of my few regrets in life, but you’ve got to admit, this was a bit much,” Grandpa says carefully, taking control of the room. Holding hands with Grandma Beth, I get the feeling this is a conversation they’ve had many times over the years.
“Me? You’re blaming this onme?” Aunt Vivian screeches, standing up abruptly. “Of course you are. It’s always my fault. I’m not good enough, not smart enough, not male enough for you,” she spits out. “Thank God, Charlie Junior came along so you’d have at least one kid to love.” She sends an angry glare her brother’s way before returning her vitriol to her father. “I thought maybe you’d have it in your old, shriveled raisin of a heart to at least love your grandson too since he’s the only thing that matters to you—a son.”
“You don’t want me to love him. You want me to bankroll him, and by default you, but I haven’t given a single cent to any of Charles’s kids, or your sisters’,” Grandpa says evenly, “and it wouldn’t be fair to give Devin any.”
“Fair? Fair?Faaaiiir!” she bellows, but she’s run out of steam. Having spewed the venom she's been holding for most of her life and been called on her true game, she huffs, “Come on, Devin. We’re leaving.”
Devin hops up, accustomed to following Mommy’s orders. Bridgette is a little slower from lack of practice, but she rises too. As they follow Aunt Vivian out of the room, Samantha gets up quickly and rushes over to stop Bridgette.
“This might not be my place to say, but if you need someone to talk to, call me at Chance’s club. And for the love of all things holy matrimony, you have to watchI Love a Momma’s Boyon TV. Girl, you’re living it in high-definition and don’t even recognize how deep you’re in. Every alarm is ringing, but you’re not saving yourself. Please, I’ve got one word for you...RUN.”
Having realized that Bridgette wasn’t trotting along after him, Devin pops his head back into the dining room. “Come on, she’s gonna leave us if we don’t get out there.”
It’s obvious where his loyalties lie, and Bridgette looks torn for a split second but then follows Devin.
Samantha sighs to herself, “Did what I could.” When she turns around, her eyes jump all over the table, and having been watching her try to save Bridgette, I follow her gaze.
Everyone’s looking at her.
She clears her throat. “Yeah, well . . . I think we did a lot of good work here tonight. Got a lot of what’s been weighing us down out into the open, which is always uncomfortable. But remember, uncomfortable is where growth happens, so this was progress.”
Samantha’s dropped into her professional therapist voice as if this whole dinner debacle was nothing more than a therapy session.
I should be mortified. Or embarrassed? Or something? I’m certain I’m expected to feel some sort of shame for this whole thing, given the angry glare my father’s sending my way. But when I search my gut, all I find is satisfaction. She’s right, this was a long time coming.
Okay, and a little humor because did Dad really not see the nearly literal steam coming out of Aunt Vivian’s ears? That’s fucking hilarious. But if I laugh, I’m going to be in so much trouble.
Not that I care, but I don’t have time for it. Not now when I want to twirl Samantha around and whoop in delight, because I was right. This was our best family dinner ever.
“I think we should go,” I say straight-faced. My jaw’s tight as I fight to stay stoic.
“That might be best,” Mom says, but then, ever the polite hostess, she adds, “Lovely to see you again, Samantha.”
CHAPTER23
SAMANTHA
Chance hasn’t saida word since we left. After silently helping me in the car, we drove away from the estate, and I deduced about twenty minutes ago that he’s heading to my apartment.
All in complete silence.
I understand why he’s mad. That was a pretty dramatic and traumatic family dinner, with me at the center for so much of it. I didn’t go in with the intention of psychoanalyzing his aunt and cousin, but it was so over-the-top and obvious. I mean, how did someone not intervene before tonight?
As for how I talked to Chuck, and mentioned only being in it for the dick? It was a knee-jerk reaction to their very loud assumption that any female who shows up with one of their boys must be out for the Benjamins. I should’ve been more polite and polished, but I am who I am, and bowing up to that sort of mentality is my gut response.
Chance had seemed fine after that... and when I said it to Kyle... and when I said it to Vivian, but now? I glance over at him to find his eyes locked on the road, jaw set like stone, and hands gripping the steering wheel so tight they’re turning white.
