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“And she writes the most beautiful songs,” Donovan adds.
My neck feels hot, and I can’t help a smile from slipping on my lips. What’s worse than one supportive boyfriend?
Two. Talking me up at the dinner table.
How’d I get so lucky?
“What band?” Nadine presses.
“The Polaroid Boys,” I tell her.
“Polaroid Boys. I think I know them.” She waves her fork in the air thoughtfully. “They did that one…what was it. ‘Heart Beat on Fleek’?”
“The anthem to my nightmares,” I say.
She laughs. “I like this one, Jason. Keep her around.”
As though I’m the new family dog—fun for the whole family! Great at parties!
It’s not completely off base, either; I’m unemployed, living with my mother, and I’m high off edibles. I feel like a heathen in this crowd. An ugly duckling in the midst of long-legged storks.
I stuff more pasta into my mouth, and that helps for the moment.
As if sensing my discomfort, Donovan leans over and bumps his leg against mine. His leg feels nice, his pants like velvet. His eyes are glassy—do mine look just as bad?
“You have pesto on your mouth,” he murmurs.
“You have mouth on your pesto,” I murmur back.
We break into a fit of laughter that no one else understands.
70
Jason
As Mom clears the plates, Dad gets up from the table. I feel his strong grip on my shoulder, a squeeze.
“Come up to my study. It’ll only take a minute.”
Dad’s study is non-negotiable. I grew up dreading the words see me in my study. His study was where I got reprimanded for less than perfect grades. It was where I got sent to when I’d pulled another foolish stunt over at the marina. It was where we sat down for big conversations, where I decided on where to go to college.
The last time I’d been called into his study was the night I told the family I’d proposed to Nadine. He’d closed the door and told me sternly, Is she pregnant? Because you know we can handle that.
“Oooh, he’s in trouble,” Kenzi says, and Donovan cackles. They’re both flying high…but at least they’re having fun.
“Be right back, losers,” I tell them. The loser is meant to be a term of endearment, but it makes Donovan frown. Words come out different in the King house.
Nadine rises from the table as well, and even though she hasn’t been instructed to, she follows my dad and me upstairs. It’s then that it hits me—this is planned.
Whatever this is, it’s something they’ve been cooking up. Together. I turn my bones to steel and inwardly brace.
Dad’s study is upstairs, the last door on the right. The door is always closed. He opens it, and when I walk through, I immediately feel the temperature drop a couple of degrees.
He has his own zone and his own heating and cooling system in here.
It’s—literally—his own private domain.
The doors close behind us.
