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“My daughter is one of the best people I know,” Dad says, pride filling his voice. “She’s kind. Loyal to a fault. Just ask that Ian dipshit. He can tell you all about it.”
They laugh, as if they’re both in on the joke, and I lean back against the couch, fighting the flicker of frustration within me that wants to burst into full flame.
I’m so tired of everyone bringing Ian up like he’s some sort of joke. He never was to me.
Though now that I’ve gained some distance and can look back some, I do realize Ian wasn’t that interested in me.
Not at all.
Not like Tate is pretending to be.
“I don’t think there’s any point in bringing him up in conversation anymore. I’d rather keep him out of our relationship.” Tate levels his gaze at me, sending a quick wink in my direction.
If anyone else had done that, I’d think it was a bit... cringey.
Somehow, Tate makes winking attractive.
“Wise move.” Dad raises his glass in Tate’s direction. “You don’t buckle under pressure. I like that about you, Ramsey.”
“Trust me, I’ve had solid training. Being on a reality show when you’re barely sixteen and having people tell you to your face that you’re a shitty singer is good practice for dealing with just about anything,” Tate admits.
“I always thought you were pretty good from what I saw.” Dad wanders back over to the bar, glancing in my direction as he pours himself another. “You want to add anything to this conversation, lovebug?”
More humiliation. He hasn’t called me that in years, so of course he’s going to pull out that old nickname in front of Tate. “I like him, Daddy.”
“That’s all you have to say?”
“Isn’t that enough?” I counter.
“Well, if I could add anything to the conversation, I’d like to say that this entire thing seems to have happened terribly fast.” Mom sweeps into the room, harried yet beautiful and with not a hair out of place. Her white linen pants don’t have a single wrinkle, and her crisp black cotton T-shirt fits her to perfection. She’s casual yet elegant, giant diamonds winking in her ears, a diamond tennis necklace around her neck. I’ve always wanted to emulate her style, yet here I sit in a skimpy summer top I bought last year and never wore with boring denim shorts, like I’m going to a backyard barbecue.
“Sometimes love moves quickly,” Dad says, coming to our defense. “Remember those first few weeks we were together, Gloria?”
She smiles fondly as she approaches the bar, her hand out and accepting the glass my father gives her. “A whirlwind of a romance.”
“How long have you two been together?” Tate asks, sounding genuinely curious.
Either he actually wants to know, or he’s a terrific actor.
“Oh, how long, Fitzy?” Mom turns to him.
He smiles at her. “Almost twenty-five years.”
“That’s great,” Tate says with a nod. “You two have been together a long time.”
“It went by fast,” Mom admits. “Three kids. One just graduated, two in high school. Next thing you know, we’ll be empty nesters.”
“We’ll have plenty to do when they’re gone, Glor.” Dad wraps his arm around Mom’s shoulders and drops a kiss on her forehead.
He may have been embarrassing me only a few minutes ago, but there’s one thing none of us can deny. My dad truly loves my mom. Their relationship is what I aspire to, though I don’t know if I want to be with an egomaniac like my father.
I study Tate, who’s rattling the ice in his glass again like it’s a nervous tic, his gaze locked on my parents as they murmur to each other. He glances over at me, doing a double take when he realizes I’m already watching him, and he offers me a sexy little smirk that sends a zap straight to my core.
Okay. I definitelyneverfelt like that when Ian looked at me.
“Promise me you’ll treat her right.” Dad’s face is stern, his focus returning to Tate once again. He’s even pointing at him. “I know I already told you this, but you better not break her damn heart or make her cry.”
“I would never.” Tate’s expression is solemn, and he swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
