Chapter 12 #2
“It’s okay,” I said automatically. I meant it. I was happy to see Bree again. Our time together had been cut short by her mother’s arrival. “It’s absolutely fine.”
“We’ll just sit here,” Sylvia announced to the confused-looking server who was approaching. “I mean, if that’s okay with you.” The look she sent my father could only be described as demure. It threw me.
“Of course.” My father’s tone was more gracious than I’d heard in years. “That’s fine by me.” He was all smiles when focused on Sylvia. When he switched his gaze to Bree, however, he looked mildly confused. “I’m sorry. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
His spoke with polite interest, but I knew better. He’d taken one look at Bree, with her patchwork shorts and glittery top, and dismissed her. I didn’t like it.
“This is Bree James,” I said, knowing what was expected of me. “She’s a fellow writer. She’s a participant in that event I told you about.”
Dad’s face was a mask of politeness without a spark. “That sounds like fun.”
“And this is Sylvia.” I gestured toward Bree’s mother.
“Your mother?” Dad asked Bree, his tone full of curiosity.
“Oh, I don’t look old enough to be her mother, do I?” Sylvia challenged in flirty fashion. “Don’t tell me that. I was practically a baby when I had her.”
Bree swished her lips and looked away, telling me that wasn’t true. I held back a laugh.
“Is everybody eating together?” the server asked, clearly agitated that Bree was still standing.
“Oh, we don’t want to interrupt,” Bree hedged.
“We’re not interrupting,” Sylvia countered, her gaze firmly latched onto my father.
“Definitely not,” Dad agreed. Actually, he almost purred. It was a distressing sound.
I touched my tongue to my top lip and flicked my gaze to Bree. She looked as uncomfortable with this meeting of the minds as I felt. There was no graceful way out of it, however.
She flashed a tight smile toward the server, walked to the chair across from her mother, and sat. That positioned her to my left and to the right of my father, who only had eyes for Sylvia.
Bree picked up the menu.
The server’s smile was strained. “Drinks first?”
“I’ll have an iced tea,” Bree said.
I nodded. “That’s what I’ll have.”
Dad made a face. “It’s dinner.” His tone was mocking.
“I have work to do when I get home,” I replied. “I’m a bit behind today.”
“Probably because you were out walking with my daughter,” Sylvia said on a happy laugh.
“Oh, I needed a break when we went on our walk,” I said. “I expected to get back to work when I was back at my house.” I shot my father a tight smile. “It’s fine, though. I can get into it after dinner.”
Conversation between Bree and me lagged after that. My father took over. He talked about himself mostly. Sylvia acted as if it was the most interesting thing she’d ever heard, even though it was obvious she didn’t care in the least about construction.
I kept darting looks toward Bree, who was decidedly uneasy with the turn of events. I didn’t know what she was thinking, but discomfort rolled through my stomach whenever I looked between my father and her mother.
My father ordered the filet mignon. Sylvia went for the rib eye then listened with rapt attention as my father explained why the rib eye was an inferior slice of meat.
Bree ordered the Wagyu steak. I got the same thing.
Dad and Sylvia went for cocktails—multiple cocktails—leaving Bree and me to act as designated drivers.
“So, Brody,” Sylvia said when dinner had been cleared and two fresh cocktails had been delivered to her and Dad. “What do you write? Are you like Bree and write about vampires?”
I cringed as my father made a rude noise.
“Vampires?” Dad finally gave Bree his full attention. “Like… Dracula?”
Bree laughed, but the sound was hollow. “More like Angel and Spike.”
That reference, of course, meant nothing to my father. “Who?”
She laughed again. “I write snarky vampire fiction. It’s not like Dracula.”
“It has a lot of sex in it.” Sylvia waggled her eyebrows suggestively at Dad. “I didn’t need any tips, but if you want to learn something, you should totally read them.”
Dad looked charmed. Wait, that couldn’t be right. Sylvia was not his type of person. Not even a little. Yet he was looking at her as if she was a society maven in a couture dress and not something that had clearly been bought at Target.
I preferred my dating partners not be from the world I’d been raised in. My father, however, was a snob. Sylvia wasn’t the sort of woman I thought he would even look sideways at. Yet here they were, hearts in their eyes, pretending this wasn’t the weirdest meal ever.
“Sex, huh?” Dad smiled at Sylvia then shot Bree a dismissive look. “Well, maybe I’ll have to check one of your books out.”
Everybody at the table knew that wasn’t going to happen.
After that, Dad only talked to Sylvia, and vice versa.
I took advantage of Bree excusing herself to go to the restroom and followed her to the front of the restaurant. We didn’t say anything. Instead, we wandered outside to check out the sunset.
“So, this is weird, right?” she said when it was just the two of us and a blazing sky.
“Totally weird.”
“You don’t think they’re going to want to do this again, do you?”
“Not with us.”
She pressed her lips together and darted a sidelong look at me. “But if we’re not there?”
“I have no idea, and I’m freaked out thinking about it.”
“Me too.”
We stood there for twenty minutes and watched the sun disappear from the sky. It was a beautifully perfect stretch. When we returned to check on our parents, they hadn’t even realized we were gone.