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He cuts me off. “How the hell did you end up with Kal fucking Seward’s ring on your finger?”
“I needed some legal advice, and he’d just passed the bar and joined his father’s law firm in Denton. We hit it off in a way that made sense.”
“Legal advice on a little girl?” he more accuses than asks.
I nod. “Yeah.”
“You remember me telling you about the asshole who shoved me in a locker my first day of middle school at Walton, yeah?”
“I do.”
“You remember me telling you his name?”
I shake my head. I’m pretty sure he never did because that’s something I’d remember. I remember everyone who was ever mean to him. “That was a long time ago.”
“It was the man who put his ring on the finger of the very first friend I made here—you.”
He scrubs a hand over his face. “I honestly don’t remember that, but he was a kid. People change.”
“I was in seventh grade, and he was in eleventh. That’s not just a bully move; that’s a punk-ass bitch move, Whit.”
“He’s a good man, John Paul. He wouldn’t do something like that now.”
“Don’t get it twisted. He stopped being a bully to me because when he was a senior, he sat on the bench while my eighth-grade ass was on the field.”
“So what? You want me to give him back the ring and call off the engagement because he was an asshole when we were in seventh grade?”
He huffs, “Maybe I do.”
I roll my eyes. “Not your call.”
He scowls and leans back in his seat, saying nothing, but his jaw is tense, those muscles popping, and I know he’s angry.
“She’s not yours.”
His head whips around, and he looks at me. “She’s five, Whit. You asked me to rid you of your virginity before you left for college. You stayed here instead of going. So, I know you weren’t with anyone there. She told me her daddy played baseball, asked me if I was?—”
“She’s Nelly’s.”
His head cocks to the side, like he doesn’t know who Nelly is. And then he has the audacity to ask, “One of your cousins from?—”
“One? Pfft.”
“You have dozens of cousins and?—”
“The one you stuck your dick in right before you stuck it in me.”
His head snaps back like I slapped him, and honestly, I have done just that in my head at least a dozen times since Nelly told me she and Pope had sex.
“Oh, come on, Whit. You know?—”
“You could have told me that you had sex with my cousin, and I would never have burdened you with?—”
He cuts me off. “Let’s call her up and straighten this out right now.”
He pulls his phone from his pocket and tries to hand it to me.
“Can’t do that. She died in a car accident two years ago. She had a will, and in it, she named me as the person she wanted to raise Nora.”
