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“Well, when the school calls because she beat up some boy who was flirting on the playground, I’ll tell them you’re coming to pick her up.” He says it like a threat, or at the least, an annoyance.
Samantha takes it as a golden opportunity. “Please do. I’d be happy to coach them on appropriate interventions, none of which include ‘boys will be boys’ or excusing bad behavior. And then Gracie and I will get ice cream and discuss outdated expectations and how she can ignore them before I take her to the club and introduce her to our new martial arts teacher for a lesson. Actually, that might be our next girl date. Whatcha say, Gracie?”
I thought I wanted to be Samantha’s friend. I think I want to beher. She’s a beast.
Grace looks excited but cuts her eyes uncertainly to her dad, not sure if she can show her true feelings. Cameron sighs then tells his daughter, “Don’t throw the petals. Do the ‘drop them down the aisle’ thing like you’re supposed to.” To Samantha, he adds, “Unless that’s an outdated expectation you’d like her to ignore?” He goes quiet again. His lips are pressed into a thin line, his back straight and shoulders wide, and his blue eyes are stone cold.
I try to think about what Cole’s said about Cameron but can’t think of anything other than he’s the oldest and the second coming of his dad, which isn’t a compliment in Cole’s eyes. I can see why he’d say that, though, because Charles is silently lording over the table with the same stern expression.
“Dad, I’ve done this before. I know how,” Grace reassures him, suddenly sounding mature in an entirely different way. I wonder how often she goes back and forth from sassy pre-teen to taking care of her dad’s feelings.
“Of course,” Cameron agrees, smiling at her warmly, “it’ll be perfect.”
Slowly, conversation starts up again.
“Bread,” Cole says at one point, putting another slice on my plate right as I slip the last bite of the previous one into my mouth. While I’m observing his family, he’s watching me, taking in my every expression and move.
“Thanks. This is delicious. Do you know how to make it?” I ask quietly as I chew the sourdough heaven, meaning for it be between us. Cole dips his chin once, saying yes and probably putting it on his to-do list for our next dinner in.
“Cole cooks?” Kayla asks, overhearing me.
I swallow, feeling eyes on me again. The girls especially are watching with interest, but everyone heard Kayla, so I answer aloud. “Yeah, he’s great in the kitchen. Thank goodness because my special talent is burning water,” I joke truthfully.
“Huh,” she says with a slightly puzzled frown. I can almost see her putting new information into an existing puzzle, replacing pieces that have been there for years.
My plan is absolutely, one hundred percent, for sure working! Probably.
CHAPTER19
COLE
“Why dowe have to do this again?” Carter complains. He’s standing on a pedestal with a woman kneeling at his feet, so you’d think he’d be hunky dory with the situation. He’s definitely always been the type to appreciate a bit of hero worship.
Unfortunately, the woman isn’t Luna. It’s the tailor.
“Be still, please,” she mumbles around the pins in her mouth.
Chance sighs and snaps, “Do you have a burgundy suit? Didn’t think so. So let the woman do her job and quit being a diva.”
Damn. Wedding stress must be getting to Chance because he’s the usually the most polite and well-spoken of us all. I can’t remember the last time he was this snippy.
Even chastised, Carter still wants to get the last word in. “I’m just saying, we all have black suits. Or gray suits. And they’re perfectly fine for a wedding, so I was wondering why we can’t wear those?”
“Samantha wants burgundy pants and vests, ivory shirts, and floral ties,” Chance says, sounding like he’s quoting his bride-to-be.
“And what Samantha wants, Samantha gets,” Cameron interjects sardonically.
He’s pissy from getting put in his place at dinner a few days ago, but Samantha was right and we all knew it. Fuck, even he knew it! He wouldn’t want Gracie getting disrespected and thinking she had to take it, though maybe there should be a step between head-pats and ball-busting? Like a ‘don’t touch me’ scream?
But then I imagine some kid at school pinching Gracie’s cheeks—either ones, face or butt—and decide Samantha was right. If that were to happen, they’d be damn lucky for her to show up and not me. Gracie’s my ride-or-die. She’s all of our ride-or-dies. As in, anyone who hurts her dies.
Cameron’s a good father, or he wants to be and tries his best to be. But he’s broken inside from the loss of his wife, Gracie’s mother, and that alone makes it difficult for him to function, much less function at the level he should. It doesn’t help that Gracie is the spitting image of her mom, and though she was small when her mother died, she somehow acts like her too. We all step in to help as much as possible, covering for Cameron when needed and making sure Gracie has all the love we can give her, but it doesn’t make up for the loss, and we all know that.
Cameron especially knows that, which I know makes him feel guilty. That of course feeds into his inner demons because he too feels that loss in his own heart, and the whole fucking cycle perpetuates itself. At this point, it might take an angel to shake him free. Or remove the stick from his ass.
“About this? Absolutely,” Chance answers Cameron. He points an accusatory finger at Carter. “How many weddings did you even have? How many times did you have us all playing along with your mess? All I’m asking is for you to quit bitching andput. On. The. Damn. Burgundy. Shit.”
Well, fuck. I’m impressed. Chance is the best of us, truly. He’s self-aware, helps others, makes a difference in the world, and all that jazz. He also rarely curses, so for him to square up to Carter that way and start throwing three-dollar words around, he’s furious.
