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Dad’s gaze is hard. Focused. “This has nothing to do with our money, does it?”
“Fitzy,” Mom chastises. We both hate it, yet Dad always seems to make it about money.
“Not at all.” Tate rises to his feet and walks over to the bar, setting his glass on the counter before he turns his back to it. “You compensated me well for my performance. Lucky me, I just so happened to talk to your daughter that night and completely fell for her. Now we’re seeing if we can make this happen.”
“You want this boy, honey?” Dad’s gaze finds mine. He says it like he’s giving him to me.
I nod, unable to speak. I’m afraid I might say something that sounds ridiculously insincere, and I don’t want to risk it.
My father smiles, seemingly pleased. “Then you can have him.”
* * *
“Pretty sure your dad is treating me like a pet the family just adopted,” Tate jokes with me as we make our way to the dining room.
“I’m so sorry.” My words aren’t nearly enough. I don’t want Tate feeling like he’s our new pet. “My father is very...”
“Interesting,” Tate supplies. Politely, I might add. “He has a unique perspective.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
We enter the dining room, and when I spot the plates on the table, I realize Mom has brought out the family china. Which means she’s really trying to impress Tate, or intimidate him.
Knowing her, probably a combination.
Since there’s only the four of us and the table is for at least eight and can be extended to twelve, Mom and Dad each sit at the head of the table, while Tate and I are across from each other. I give him a look when we settle into our seats, hoping he sees that I’m trying to show him I’m his ally, not his enemy, and he flashes me one of those dazzling smiles of his, the dimple out and everything.
I practically fall into my seat, grateful it’s beneath me. Also grateful I didn’t have a second drink. I have enough of a buzz as it is on only one.
God, I’m such a lightweight.
The first course is brought out—fresh summer salad—and memories hit me of the night we had dinner with the Baldwins and what a shit show that turned out to be. This is much more pleasant. The conversation is flowing and easy. Dad is asking Tate about his touring days with Five Car Pileup, and while that’s a sensitive subject, Tate is answering Dad’s questions with ease, glossing over the tough stuff.
Thankfully Dad doesn’t try to dig too deep, which is what he usually does.
We talk about summer and the weather, and when the main course arrives—grilled shrimp with broccoli and risotto, yum—Tate has all of us laughing, sharing all the weird personal-video requests he’s received.
“Are you still doing that? I’m sure business is booming now, considering all the attention you’ve received,” Dad says.
Tate shakes his head. “I’m on hiatus. Other things are happening with my life right now that are much more exciting than recording happy-birthday messages to twenty-year-olds who used to love me in their teen days.”
Mom arches a brow, sending me a knowing look. “That sounds intriguing. What’s coming up next for you, Tate?”
“Well, I’m in contract negotiations for another record deal.” I can hear the excitement in his voice, see it in his body language. He’s practically vibrating in his chair, and I can’t help but smile at his excitement. “Pretty sure it’s going to go through and I’ll be making my first solo album. They already had me come into the studio for ‘Red.’”
Ah, the elephant in the room. The song that’s about me with the sexual lyrics.
“Oh yes. I heard that.” Mom reaches for her wineglass and takes a sip. “It’s an interesting song.”
“Vaguely inappropriate,” Dad adds, his eyes narrowing on Tate. “Though I do get where you were going with it.”
I want to roll my eyes. Or duck under the table. Anything to stop talking about that song with my parents.
“Will it be a song on your new album?” Mom asks Tate.
“I’m not sure. Probably. It’s doing so well. Hopefully the rest of the album will do just as well.” Tate sounds so unsure, and my heart breaks for him a little bit.
I get the sense he moves through life acting like the whole thing will collapse on him out of nowhere. Like he can’t count on any of it lasting.
