Chapter 2
Jamison
"What do you mean you're getting married?" I panted, staring at my son in disbelief. Sweat dripped down the sides of my face from the incline and speed of the treadmill I was running on before work.
For years, I had regularly gone to the gym and still did, but lately, I had been struggling with insomnia and often woke up early. Instead of lying in bed doing nothing, I had placed a treadmill in my bedroom and added an extra forty-five minutes of exercise to my day.
Manuel gave me one of his exasperated looks. "You know what getting married means. You were married once, remember?"
Not only did my son look a lot like his Mexican mother—inheriting her swarthy skin, curly black hair, and dark eyes—he also tended to have her snark.
Yes, I knew exactly what marriage was, which was why I was alarmed.
His mother and I didn't last because, quite frankly, we were incompatible and ignored our differences because we thought we were in love.
Although I looked forward to the day Manuel got married and I became a grandfather, I had not expected marriage to happen so soon.
He was practically still a kid, and worse, he was engaged to a young woman I had never met.
"When did this happen?"
He beamed at me as he recalled the moment. "Last night, which is why I couldn't wait to come by and tell you."
Manuel no longer lived with me. As soon as he received his first paycheck, he moved out and leased his own apartment.
I wasn't one of those parents who believed in kicking a kid out as soon as they became an adult.
I was very familiar with financial struggle and had suggested he live with me a while longer to save money, but he claimed he needed privacy.
At least he had been sensible about his choice, finding a moderately priced apartment in a good neighborhood.
"Asking Blossom to marry me was completely spontaneous. I wanted an elaborate proposal, but I ended up popping the question after we ate dinner at my place."
I wiped sweat from my face with my towel. "Who is this young lady?" I panted.
"I've told you about her. Blossom. We met at school."
I did remember him talking about a young woman named Blossom. I had no idea they were so serious. "Have you met her parents?"
"Not yet."
Agitated, I stopped the treadmill and slowed to a walk as the speed decreased and the incline lowered. Stepping off the machine, I puffed out a tired breath. "You never went to her father and asked his permission to marry his daughter?"
"Dad, come on, that's an old-fashioned idea. People my age rarely do that. Besides, her father lives in Georgia, but her mother lives here."
Maybe I hadn't raised him so well after all. I wasn't happy. This young woman agreed to marry my son without meeting anyone from his family and vice versa.
Red flag.
What was wrong with young people these days? You raise them one way and they go completely against your teachings. It's as if my son wanted to give me a heart attack.
"Of course, you know, I have to meet Blossom."
"I want you to meet her, and she wants to meet you. We figured it would be a good idea for the four of us—me and you, she and her mother—to have dinner together. I suggested Friday night."
"This Friday night?"
"Yes. After work."
I mentally ran through my calendar. "That’s doable. I need to check with Mindy first before I confirm," I said, referring to my executive assistant.
"I left her a message, so you should have an answer when you go in this morning."
My son and I worked together. He was a junior credit analyst, and I was a commercial banker at Phase One Bank, a large outfit in the Midwest. I specialized in negotiating and closing commercial loans and spent a lot of time marketing our services to potential clients.
My job wasn't glamorous, but it was exciting work, at least for me.
Second only to sex, which I hadn't been getting much of these days.
"Where did you want to have dinner?" I asked.
"How about Knife & Fork?"
"Why there? It's expensive."
Manuel rubbed his hands together. "I want to make a good impression on Blossom's mom, so I don't want to go to any old place."
"Knife & Fork is one of the most expensive restaurants in town, and on a Friday night, they'll probably be booked. There are other options."
"Can we at least try?" Manuel asked.
I sighed. "All right, Knife & Fork it is. Are you sure they can afford it?"
I glanced absentmindedly at the activity tracker on my wrist. Heart rate looked good. Calories burned, good. Had my son not interrupted me, I would have burned more calories.
I suddenly realized the room was oddly quiet and looked at Manuel. He looked at me.
"No," I said.
"Come on, Dad. Don't be cheap for once in your life."
"Cheap? Is that what you call being sensible about your finances?" I demanded. "Cheap covered the expenses your scholarship didn't and allowed you to graduate from college loan-free."
He sighed dramatically. "You go to Knife & Fork all the time with clients."
"Yes, with clients. To impress them. I don't pay out of my own pocket for those meals. They’re a business expense."
"Well, we're trying to impress Blossom and her mother."
His logic was terribly flawed.
"You mean you're trying to impress them, with my money. What does Blossom's mother do?"
"She owns a store where she sells herbal supplements and stuff like that. There's also a yoga studio in the back of the store."
Great. She probably wouldn't appreciate a place like Knife & Fork. Probably didn't eat meat. "And Blossom?"
He hesitated, which meant I wouldn't like the answer.
"She's looking for a job in cybersecurity, and she's had some interviews."
Another red flag.
Once again, I was disappointed. Granted, my son got his foot in the door of the bank because of me, but that was beside the point.
I had warned him years ago that any woman he married should have a job of some kind.
I didn't care if she walked dogs part-time—which in some parts of the country could be lucrative.
She needed to have a way to contribute to the household.
Two incomes were better than one. Ask me how I know.
"Dad, relax. Blossom is a great girl, you'll see. She has time to find a job."
"True," I mumbled.
"She speaks highly of her mother, who she said is very chill. I think the two of you will get along great." He was smiling the entire time he talked.
"You hope," I said in a clipped voice.
Manuel laughed, as if I had said something funny. "I'm not worried."
I was worried enough for the two of us.
"Want to see a picture of her?" he asked, his voice sounding hopeful.
"Oh, now you want to share pictures. Sure. Let me see what this Blossom person looks like." I suddenly realized I sounded like a cranky old man and was probably putting a damper on his excitement.
I softened my words with a faint smile, and he whipped out his phone and showed me his Instagram page.
"There she is," he said, enlarging a photo of him and a young woman sitting on a blanket in the grass. He had an arm around her, and she was resting her head on his shoulder.
I eyed him sideways and wondered if he was letting his hormones cloud his judgment.
I scrolled through a few more photos. Going strictly by these pictures, he had chosen well.
She was definitely a looker, with light brown skin and her hair cut into a short, curly Afro.
Her most stunning feature was her eyes. They were big and bright with long lashes.
I immediately understood why my son had fallen for her, which became a reason for concern.
He might be thinking with the head in his pants and not the one on his shoulders.
"You have that look on your face," Manuel said.
"What look?"
"Your skeptical look."
I paused, wondering how to express my concerns without sounding condescending. "Look, I know you're an adult, but I can't help but wonder if you're moving a little fast. You haven't known this young woman very long."
"What happened to 'when you know, you know'? You said those exact words to me once," he said.
Internally, I sighed, tabling an argument that would probably get me nowhere. "Let's try to make the best of the meeting. I'll remain impartial and give your fiancée”—I grimaced at the word—"the benefit of the doubt."
"That's all I'm asking for. I promise, once you meet her and get to know her, you'll fall in love with her too.
" He took back his phone. "We should be able to nail down the dinner location later today, and then I'll let Blossom know everything's a go.
I'll let you get cleaned up, and then we can ride in to work together? "
"Sure."
"I'll wait for you in the living room."
I watched him walk out the door before making my way to the adjoining bathroom, shifting gears to the work I had to tackle when I went into the office.
I was currently working on a deal that had me pulling my hair out. A family with three car washes across the city had been duped into a predatory loan that was draining their profits. I was struggling to find a way to get them out of it before they lost everything.
I got into this business because I liked working with numbers and helping people achieve their dreams. I wasn't much of a risk-taker myself, so helping businesses expand gave me a sense of satisfaction and made me feel as if I were contributing to the long-term growth of my community.
Finding out another banker had taken advantage of these people's naivety, which could cause them to lose everything, angered me.
"Not if I can help it," I mumbled, as I stripped out of my clothes.
As the cool water beat down on my face, I thought about my son and his engagement.
When his mother and I divorced and they moved to Arizona, I was devastated.
Fortunately, when he turned thirteen, he moved in with me.
"To help him become a man," his mother had said, though I suspected she simply wanted him out of the way so she could start dating again.
I didn't mind. I was happy to have him back in my life and my home, and I liked to think I had done a decent job raising him to make the right choices in life.
I guess I'd find out how good of a job I'd done on Friday night when I met his fiancée.