6. Paige #2
“So, Kim…” I say, clearing my throat of the humiliation still stuck in it. “How long have you known Dad?” I pair the question with a warm smile.
Crow’s feet pull at the corners of her eyes as she glances at my dad lovingly. She’s an excellent actress; I’ll give her that. Most of his girlfriends focused so much on impressing Jordan and me that they forgot to pretend they were into our dad.
“Roger and I have known each other for a long time.” There’s nostalgia in her voice, like there’s more to that story. “But we reconnected after running into each other at the farmer’s market.”
“You were at a farmer’s market?” Jordan’s head snaps toward Dad.
“I was trying to find the perfect ingredients for my homemade pizza.” A smile pulls on his lips.
“Kim led me to the best artisanal burrata money can buy, and I realized it must be fate.” The sentence would sound ridiculous coming from anyone else, but when it comes to our dad, not a lot of things can surprise us.
“Pizza? That was months ago.” Jordan does the math faster than me, but she’s right. It’s hard to forget his pizzaiolo era, especially since we had to chew through the whole rock-hard attempt at a pizza while smiling politely. “You’ve been together this whole time?”
“Yes. Four months to be exact. We wanted to be sure…”
“Four months?!” The shock slips out, so I quickly recover with a bright grin. “Wow, four months. We hadn’t even known Dad was dating someone.”
Dad darts a questioning look at me, and nerves ramp up in my belly. Fuck, Jordan is usually the lead on our investigations.
Still, Kim is nonplussed as she responds, “We were careful, yes. We wanted to make sure this was something that had a future before we brought it onto you kids.”
My mouth parts on an ‘oh’. That must have been her idea. It also means this is more serious than his previous flings with women half his age.
“What do you do, Kim?” Emma asks. I doubt she means it as an interrogation, though.
“I’ve been an administrative assistant at a marketing company for over twenty years, but I retired just a couple of weeks ago.” She gives Dad another loving look, and I grind my teeth.
“Did you? How interesting.” Jordan’s words are laced with subtext. Our dad’s money certainly didn’t hurt her ability to retire.
Dad squeezes her hand gently, turning his head toward Ryan. “You’re currently working as a delivery guy, aren’t you?”
“A delivery driver. But yes, I am.” There’s terseness to his voice, making me let out a silent huff. I guess Ryan isn’t thrilled with the situation, either.
“You haven’t been doing it long?” Dad asks.
“Just a few weeks now. But so far, I like it.”
“Must be an interesting job,” Dad comments politely.
Ryan plasters on a smile that seems too bright for the occasion. “Oh, it is. Plenty of interesting things happen on deliveries. The stories I could tell.” He runs his tongue over his teeth as his pointed gaze lands on me.
Luckily, my dad doesn’t notice. He lets out a laugh, charmed by his words, even though he meant them for me.
I down a gulp of my drink, just before two servers place plates in front of each of us.
The mere sight of the prawn risotto coils my stomach, so I pick up the fork and push the rice from side to side, pretending to eat.
“Maybe you should share some of your stories with Paige. She needs them for her column,” Dad, so unhelpfully, suggests.
There were plenty of times in my life that I was so grateful to call him my dad. But this… this isn’t one of those times.
Ryan’s mouth hooks into a smirk, a dimple popping out on his cheek. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure she has some stories of her own.”
Dad’s brows furrow with confusion, but he doesn’t get to ask further when Kim places a hand on my wrist. “Roger told me all about your writing. How exciting.”
“Y-yeah. Pretty exciting.”
“You should read her upcoming article about monstera propagating. Whew, it’s a doozy,” Jordan adds, and I kick her shin under the table.
“Monsteras, you say? Sounds like a tantalizing read.” Her lovely voice sounds unconvinced, meaning my article idea isn’t even interesting to sixty-year-olds.
Dad swallows a bite and continues his questions to Ryan. “How’s the house search going?”
“Slow. But it’s coming along.”
Kim waves him off. “I told him not to hurry. I’m already spending most of my time at your place and I don’t plan to sell the house once we get married.”
Wine sprays from my mouth as utensils clink on the plates. She looks like she just got caught red-handed, but it’s too late.
“You’re getting married?” Jordan is the first one to ask, her eyes bulging out with shock. Emma lands a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“Yeah, Mom. What’s that about?” Ryan looks just as surprised as the three of us, which is ridiculous. His mom leaving him the house while she mooches off our dad is hardly a bad thing for him.
Dad and Kim intertwine their fingers, showing they’re a united front, and a pang of anger hits my stomach. “I know this might have come as a shock. But Kim and I truly love each other and want to spend the rest of our lives together.”
It might be the wine. Or the fact that I’ve been reeling with anxiety since I noticed that my delivery driver is Kim’s son. But I’m unable to suppress the snort that comes out of my nose and the roll of my eyes.
“You have a problem with that, Paige?” Dad’s strict tone is one I haven’t heard since I was a teenager.
I open my mouth to answer, but Jordan speaks first. “Matter of fact, we do. This is the fifth time we’re hearing this spiel.
Paige and I thought that maybe, maybe you’ll grow out of it and finally start acting your age.
But no, here we are, celebrating another engagement.
So, excuse us if we don’t share the excitement.
” She drops a napkin on her plate and rushes out of the private room. Emma rises to follow, but I stop her.
“I’ll go,” I tell her, pressing a hand to her shoulder. She does a small nod and sits back down. I murmur, “Excuse me,” and leave the room, along with my uneaten plate of food.
I hear Emma apologizing to Kim on our behalf, and I’m sure I’ve made the right choice. She’s the one everyone loves. I’m not nearly extroverted enough to get out of situations like this. They make my skin crawl. I am the Jordan whisperer, though.
My heart pumps loudly in my chest as I search for her.
I find her splashing cold water on her face inside the restaurant’s fancy bathroom.
The room is almost entirely black, with golden accents on the faucets and the circular mirror.
Jordan grabs a paper towel and pats her wet face before releasing a long sigh and placing both of her palms on the marble counter.
I approach her, leaning on the same counter.
“I know I overreacted,” she breaks the silence. “But I’m just… frustrated.”
“I know.”
“It’s the same story over and over again. And when she mentioned the house…” Another sigh. “I just lost it.”
“I know.” There’s not much to say other than that.
We’ve had these discussions a million times before.
Each time, we wondered whether we should try to stop the weddings.
Each time, we hoped he would learn on his own, but he never does.
She closes her eyes to shake her head, and I know she’s calmed down.
It’s what happens when you’ve spent your whole life with someone.
You can read their moods by small gestures.
You can read them better than they can sometimes read themselves.
“You should probably apologize.”
“I know.” She repeats my words back to me, exiting the space.
I wait for her to leave and enter a stall, needing a minute to myself.
The people-pleaser in me is shaking with nerves.
Once I’m finally ready to get back out there, I step out of the bathroom on a deep inhale.
A blob of dark blue appears in front of me, and I step right into it.
The blob doesn’t budge, obviously unsurprised by the collision. Warm hands wrap around my upper arms.
“Easy there. Are you okay?” the blob says.
I blink, raising my gaze, and realize it’s Ryan. “Not really. But for the sake of this conversation, I’m fine.”
He releases my arms, and my shoulder slump like he was keeping them up. He runs a hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
My face scrunches, showing my confusion. What would he know about this?
“It came as a shock to me, too.”
I cross my arms in front of my chest, building a wall of fake confidence around myself. My high school counselor used to tell me that confidence is all about faking it until making it, but I’m still waiting on the second part. “Did you know your mother was dating someone?”
“I did. I actually met Roger a couple of weeks ago.”
I let out another snort. “Well, then, you don’t know what Jordan and I mean. Besides, I doubt you’ll be crying since you’ll be getting a house out of it.”
His eyes narrow. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, I hardly need Mom’s house.”