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My mom’s heated voice comes through the wood before I even reach the door.
“I’m not going to say I told you so, but I did warn you not to do business with those people. You can’t let this happen.”
“I won’t,” my dad grumbles. “Now, give it a rest.”
“Give it a rest,” she exclaims. “Nothing good is going to come from this.”
“You stick to your business, and I’ll manage mine.”
“You mean run your household and raise your kids but don’t have an opinion when it comes to how your business impacts our lives.”
“Don’t be so dramatic, for heaven’s sake. I’ll take care of it. Don’t I always?”
“Dramatic?” Her voice quivers. “Sometimes, Benjamin Edwards, you can be a patronizing son of a bitch.”
A moment later, the door flies open in my face. I bounce back as my mom charges through the doorframe, her face streaked with black mascara. She glares at me before flouncing down the hallway on her bare feet with her heels swinging in one hand.
I don’t take her animosity personally. She simply doesn’t like showing weakness. No one is allowed to witness her in any state of dress or composure that isn’t perfect. I’ve never seen her in pj’s or without her make-up. She’s always immaculately groomed when she comes downstairs in the morning.
Hesitantly, I put my head around the doorframe. My dad sits behind his desk, scribbling in his little black book. I knock to make him aware of my presence. As always, he closes the book and puts it in his top left drawer.
“Am I interrupting?” I ask.
He smiles, but the usual easy tilt of his mouth is strained. “Never.”
I throw a thumb in the direction of Mom’s flight. “I couldn’t help but overhear some of that.”
“All of it?” he asks with alarm.
I frown. “Only the last part. Is everything okay?”
He sighs. “Come here. Don’t look so worried. You know your mother overreacts when she’s tired.”
That’s not an understatement.
I enter the room and inhale the familiar fragrance of wood polish and leather. When I was little, I used to fall asleep on the sofa while my dad was working. I’d always wake up with a blanket covering me, feeling safe and protected. I’d lie awake and listen to the sound of his pencil scratching over the paper. My dad is old-fashioned when it comes to computers. He’s still scribbling in his notebook instead of using the programs Ryan installed on his laptop.
Flopping down on the sofa, I tuck my legs under me. “I don’t like it when you fight.”
He comes over and takes a seat next to me. “It’s a silly disagreement. Tomorrow, it’ll be forgotten.”
“I hope it’s not because of me.”
“Why would you think that?”
“I ruined the party for Mom, didn’t I?”
Pinching my cheek, he says, “You were perfect. Did you have fun?”
I hate lying to my dad, so I simply shrug.
He winces. “I’m sorry about the piano. Your mother wouldn’t be dissuaded.”
“It’s okay.” I grin and rest my head on his shoulder. “I can use it as a table when I get my own apartment one day.”
A soft laugh shakes his body. “Don’t let your mother hear that.” Taking a small box from his pocket, he puts it in my lap. “I have something for you.”
I sit up quickly and look at his handsome face, gratitude warming my heart. “You shouldn’t have.”
He waves away my protest. “Open it.”
A smile splits my face as I flip back the lid to reveal a delicate gold chain with a sea turtle pendant. “Oh, Dad.” I throw my arms around his neck and hug him. “Thank you. It’s gorgeous.”
“I thought you’d like it,” he says with a conspiratorial wink when I let him go.
I caress the lines of the pendant. “I love it.”
“Good.” He pats my hand. “That’s all that matters.”
“Did you hear about the kitten?”
“Your mother told me.”
Hiding my expression by pretending to study the pendant, I probe carefully, “I thought you didn’t invite business associates to family gatherings.”
“I don’t. They happened to be in town for a meeting. Extending an invite couldn’t be avoided.”
“You say it as if you don’t like them.”
“Sabella.”
The rare use of my full name makes me look at him.
“You have to stay away from that boy. He’s no good for you. Do you understand?”
“Why?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
“He has a reputation. Trust me when I tell you he’s not the kind of man you want in your life.”
My dad has always been strict about letting me go out with boys, especially boys older than me.
“I don’t want you to mix with him or any of his family. Do you understand?” he asks again. “I absolutely forbid it.”
He’s never spoken to me so sternly.
Swallowing, I nod.
“Good,” he says. “Now, go get some sleep.”
I kiss his cheek and wish him goodnight, leaving him to his work.
