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“Don’t worry, girl. I got this,” Grace tells Samantha, sounding more like fifteen than the nine-ish I think she actually is. “I’ll scatter them, not chunk them at people, same as last time.” She tilts her head thoughtfully, wrinkling her nose, “Unless someone does something stupid like petting me on the head like a dog or pinching my cheeks and calling me adorable.” She makes it sound like that’s the worst insult someone could possibly say to her. “In that case, they’re definitely gonna catch these hands. And probably a few rose petals up the nose.”
“Deal,” Samantha approves, laughing good-naturedly. “If someone did that to me, I’d probably kick ’em in the nuts.”
“What?” Cameron sputters, checking in for the first time during the whole conversation. “Don’t tell her that.”
“Self-defense is a necessary skillset for every woman, at every age,” she advises him. To Grace, she says, “Protect yourself from anyone who makes you uncomfortable. I don’t care who they are. If you don’t like it, don’t want it, and aren’t an emphatic ‘yes’, they’re the ones who’re wrong. Not you.”
“She’s a kid, not dating frat bros on Tinder,” Cameron argues.
“Right,” Samantha agrees, “and this is when kids learn, so that by the time they get on Tinder, their boundaries are solidified and they know what’s acceptable. And what’s not.”
Grace’s not the only one ping-ponging their eyes from Samantha to Cameron as they debate. We’re all watching.
“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 And then Gracie and I will get ice cream and discuss outdated expectations and how she can ignore them before I take her to the club and introduce her to our new martial arts teacher for a lesson.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 be her. 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 To Samantha, he adds, “Unless that’s an outdated expectation you’d like her to ignore?”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.
CHAPTER 19
COLE
“Why do we 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.”
