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The thought makes me chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” Brad asks as my parents enter the room.
“I’ll tell you later,” I whisper.
He smiles at me and stands up to greet my dad, shaking his hand.
“Sir,” Brad greets. “Sorry to intrude on you and Mrs. Simpson’s Friday night.”
Dad waves his hand dismissively and leans down to kiss my cheek. “Not an intrusion. Gives me time to step away from Sunday’s sermon and take a quick break. What brings you kids by tonight?”
I stand, and Brad intertwines his fingers with mine.
“Well, Sir…”
“We’re getting married!”
Brad and I both spit out our news at the same time.
“Eek!” Mom shrieks and claps her hands, while Dad clasps Brad on the back and winks.
“What was that about?” I ask Brad.
“What are you talking about?”
“Why did my dad just wink at you?”
Brad smirks. “You didn’t think I’d ask you to marry me without talking to your father first, did you?”
“You asked my dad for permission?”
“Absolutely.” He nods. “I’m a gentleman, after all.”
I pat his chest. “That was sweet of you.”
“Let me see the ring,” Mom demands. “When is the wedding date?”
“Whoa, Mom,” I chastise. “Slow down. We’ve only been engaged for thirty minutes. Can we enjoy the engagement for a little bit?”
“I’m sorry, honey.” A tear rolls down her cheek. “I’m just so happy for you both.”
“Don’t cry, Mom.” I leave Brad’s side to wrap my arms around her waist. “I didn’t mean to sound harsh. I was surprised by the proposal tonight, and I’m still a little shocked.”
“Oh sweetie, of course you are,” Mom gushes. “When do you think you’d like the wedding to be?”
“Ruth,” Dad admonishes. “Let the kids breathe for a minute.”
“Right, right.” Mom points to the couch. “Why don’t we sit down for a bit and chat?”
Brad and I return to our seats on the couch while Mom and Dad sit in the armchairs across from us.
“I’ve already spoken to Brad about my expectations before you marry, Violet,” Dad begins, leveling us both with a stare. “I expect you both to respect your mother’s and my wishes.”
“Of course, Dad.” I bow my head slightly and fold my hands on my lap to keep myself from fidgeting. Dad doesn’t appreciate it when someone can’t sit still while he’s talking.
“First, you will finish your degree, and second—”
“Dad, I was always going to finish my degree,” I insert.
