Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Jackson
" N ice to hear the news my oldest son got married from Instagram." Dad moves through the house like he owns the place. That's how he does everything. Wherever he goes, he's the man in charge. Usually, he does it with a casual smile, as if he doesn't see anything as a big deal. Today, he's not attempting to sell his easygoing side.
"We didn't hear it from Instagram." Mom greets me with a hug. "We heard from Cassie."
"She didn't," Daphne says.
Mom nods and releases me. "She did. And we're not mad. We're disappointed."
Daphne's dad chuckles. "Does that work?" Mr. Webb—I guess I should call him Miles, now that he's my father-in-law, looks to Dad and raises a brow. He has the same blue eyes Daphne does. She has his eyes and her mom's sharp features.
But then, I'm not here to marvel at the beauty of genetics.
I'm not here to do anything.
This is my house.
"You could have called," I say.
"See, that's what I was going to say," Dad says. "You could have called when you got married."
"Let them enjoy it, Tom." Mom laughs. "Remember our first week as newlyweds?"
Dad's expression shifts from grill my kids to ooey, gooey romantic. After all these years, he's still madly in love with her.
And she still looks at him like he hangs the moon.
She does it now. He softens immediately. He enjoys their beautiful moment of togetherness.
"Congratulations," Mr. Webb, I mean Miles, says. He holds up a bottle of sparkling cider. "I believe we owe you a toast."
"Four toasts," Daphne's mom, Ms. Smart, no, Meg, says. "If my wordy husband leaves room for the rest of us."
"How could you say that, princess?" Miles teases her. "I'm a poet."
"And you know it," she rhymes.
He shakes his head that was bad .
"Brevity is the heart of wit," she says. "And you're no Oscar Wilde."
"You don't think I'm witty now?" His voice drops to a flirty tone.
Is it because they're around my parents? They're regressing to their early twenties, the way Zack regresses to his teenage attitude around all of us.
The way I—
Well, this parental foursome is enough torture for one day. I don't need to give myself shit too.
"I didn't cook enough for six," I say.
"We'll order Thai," Dad says.
"Tom." Mom nudges Dad. "It's his place." She looks to me. "What your dad means to say is thanks for welcoming us."
"Yes, please stay for dinner." I nod to Daphne's parents. "Can I get you something to drink?"
Miles holds up the sparkling cider.
Daphne laughs. "We get it, Dad." She hugs her dad. Then her mom. "I'll get the glasses." She looks to me and mouths sorry .
I shake my head. This isn't the way I pictured the evening, but I'm glad to have our families here to support us.
"I'll put the food away." I follow Daphne into the kitchen, point out where she can find champagne flutes and water glasses.
She glances at the tomato sauce on the stove. "That looks good. I hate to miss it."
"We can eat the leftovers tomorrow," I say.
"Jackson Steele eats leftovers?" She laughs. "You don't cook every single meal fresh?"
"Do I seem that high maintenance?"
She motions a little.
My lips curl into a smile. I like the way she sees me. She sees the side I try to downplay, the side I'm not supposed to have, and she likes it. She likes it enough to tease me.
After I put the food away and she hands out glasses, we meet our parents in the foyer. It's not the place I'd suggest a toast, but it works well enough.
Miles pours sparkling cider for everyone, then he stands next to his wife and he raises his glass. "Daphne would never admit this now, but when she was a kid, she loved Fashion Island. Whenever we visited Grandma and Grandma, Daphne demanded a trip to the outdoor mall."
Daphne's cheeks flush.
It's almost as adorable as my mental image of Daphne as a kid, gazing at the giant outdoor Christmas tree.
"She loved the koi pond there. Damon did too. For a while. But he was at that age where he had to prove he was a rebel, and Daph was at that age where she had to chase after him. This time, when we went there, he ran off from the koi pond. When she looked up and saw he was gone, she chased him around the mall. She caught him fast, of course—she's the runner—and she tackled him in front of a jewelry store. He asked if she wanted anything. Earrings, a necklace, a ring, a pendant of a koi fish, but she shook her head and said, no, never. And when he asked, 'what about later, when you get married,' she made the kind of face your mom makes when people ask her about Han and Leia breaking up offscreen in the Star Wars sequels."
He looks to Daphne's mom, who is making a face of pure horror.
"I caught up to them at about that moment and I asked what was so disgusting. Besides her brother, of course."
Everyone laughs.
He continues, "She said, Damon thinks I want to get married. But why would any women want to get married? I want to be free." His voice softens. "I wanted to tell her, 'hey, I get it, kid, and I want that for you, too.' And I wanted to tell her, 'that might change, one day, when you start to like boys. Or girls.' It never did. Until she found someone who would let her be free. If I had to put my bets on a Steele, it would have been Cassie, but I'm glad you found someone more stable. Lyricists are crazy."
Daphne wipes a tear from her eyes.
Her dad holds his glass. "To you and Jackson."
She raises her glass and takes a sip.
I do the same.
Everyone else joins.
Then my dad takes his turn. He tells his own story about my childhood. How, whenever we played board games, I insisted on explaining the rules. And enforcing the rules. They knew, right then, I'd grow up to be a lawyer. They never worried about how I did in school. I always did my assignments on time and got the best grades.
But they worried about me socially. I was too much like my father. I wanted to be in charge too badly. I wanted to play fair, yes, but only by my definition of fair.
Then I got my first girlfriend, and damn, if I didn't try to stay in charge there. I learned a little until she broke up with me for being too difficult. The same thing again and again. I was always too difficult.
But they can tell already it's different now. Because I never would have gotten married because someone else asked. Because I never would have let someone else take the reins.
But I did.
I can.
We toast.
Then Daphne's Mom talks about her medical skills, the curiosity she always had about the body, then sex, and the hope she has that Daphne fills herself personally and professionally.
My mom keeps it short and sweet. "I saw the wedding pictures. Your kids will take after me. If you have them. Whatever the two of you want. I love you, Jackson. And I love you too, Daphne. I'm happy you're officially a part of our family."
We all drink.
We finish another bottle of sparkling cider.
The takeout arrives. Our parents torture us with stories as we eat. We stay at the dining table late, until they're too tired to embarrass us anymore.
When her parents hug me goodbye and say I'm always welcome at their place, I believe it.
And when my parents tell her she's always welcome in their lives, I know it's true.
Because we are family.
Whatever else happens, we're family now, and that means we're family forever.
Finally, we walk our parents to their cars, and we return to the calm, quiet house.
Daphne stretches her arms over her head with a low yawn.
"Too tired?" A teasing tone drops into my voice. I want to be back at that easy place with her already.
She shakes her head. "No, but I need to set up. Where should I put my stuff?"
"Do you want to stay in my room or the spare?" It's a big question, but it feels easy on my lips.
"Can I make the spare my office?" she asks.
"Of course."
She pulls me into a tight hug. "Give me an hour. Then meet me outside, at the pool." She brings her lips to my ears. "Bring condoms and silicon lube. Just in case you break."