I scoff as I close the car door. “Did I just hear Mark ‘I invented the term workaholic’ Carson tell me I can’t spend my life at work?”
“Yes, you did. And you should listen to me.”
He bends down and picks up his briefcase then wraps one arm around my shoulders. “Because you’re my dad?”
“That’s one reason. The other reason is a little more selfish: I want some grandbabies to spoil before I become old and decrepit.”
I roll my eyes to hide the pain that twists through my heart at the mention of grandbabies. “Wow, laying it on pretty thick there, sir. You’re nowhere near old and decrepit.” Like at all. The man runs three miles every morning and is probably the only partner at his law firm who is over fifty and has abs. If he ever becomes a grandfather, he’ll be the best looking one on the playground.
Just put the man out of his misery. You know you have no intention of ever giving him grandchildren.
As random and unfair as the thought seems, I can’t argue against it. Once upon a time, coming over here with a couple of babies in tow felt like a foregone conclusion. Eric and I wanted kids; we dreamed up a whole life where we were surrounded by little curly-headed cuties with his smile and my eyes, but fate had other plans for us. Hurtful, destructive plans that tore us apart at the seams long before he left this world and took my hope of ever creating a new life with him.
My dad doesn’t have to know that though.
He’s still smiling as he leads me into the house, regaling me with stories about his day. I listen intently, remembering the days in my childhood when I would wait by the door for him to come home and talk to me just like this. A lot of the time, it would be the first conversation I’d have all day with someone who wasn’t paid to be around me.
“Mark, darling, I didn’t realize you would be home so early!” My mother’s voice floats across the foyer to us, the sound of heels echoing along with it. “I was just about to call Sloane—”
She stops short when she sees me standing next to Dad, who’s already loosening his tie. He puts his briefcase down and walks over and envelops her in a tight hug. “Call Sloane for what?”
“To see if we could reschedule,” she says, slipping out of his embrace and waltzing over to me. I resist the urge to cringe as she embraces me. Her bony fingers dig into my flesh and her perfume floods my nostrils. “Sloane, honey, you should have called before you came over.”
My spine stiffens. “I didn’t think I needed to call, Mom. Dad and I made these dinner plans on Sunday at your request.” I pull back to look at her face. Her mouth is drawn tight, lips pressed into a flat line as she releases me.
“Yes, I know.” She spins around on her heel and heads deeper into thehouse. Dad and I trace her steps to the kitchen. “But things with my schedule change so quickly. It would have been nice to have a reminder, dear.”
There it is. The subtle shift of blame. She probably agreed to attend some dinner or charity event instead of having the dinner she forced me to schedule. Of course, it’s not her fault though. The great Lauren Carson could never be guilty of something so classless as double-booking. I suck in a deep breath and swallow the urge to apologize to her. I didn’t do anything wrong. Sure, I could have called ahead and let her know I was still planning to visit, but what kind of mother forgets her child is coming over for dinner?
Mama never does. She spends hours in the kitchen preparing for me, Mal, or Dominic to visit her.
But the differences between my mom and my mother-in-law are so vast it makes my head spin just thinking about it. Until I met Mama, I had no idea what it felt like to be loved and cared for with so much deference. She can be overwhelming and nosy as all hell, but it’s all born out of the selfless, life-altering love she has for her children. And for me.
“I’m sure Sloane was just excited to get home and see us, Lauren.” Dad presses a soft kiss to her temple and hugs her from behind. Her hazel eyes soften, and I let out a sigh. Maybe dinner with Cruella won’t be so bad with Dad here. Even as a kid, it was never lost on me that his presence had a calming effect on her—while my every breath only seemed to annoy her.
“Of course.” She pins me with a hard look, letting me see how annoyed she is before twisting around in Dad’s arms and planting a soft kiss on his lips. “I’ll just call Ella and let her know we can’t make it.”
“Sounds great, Mom. Thanks for changing your plans for me.”
It’s a fight to keep the bitter sarcasm burning in my throat from coating the words. The last thing I want to do right now is fight with her in front of my dad. His blood pressure is already high—he says it’s due to stress from his job—but it would kill me to know I contributed to it in any way.
“A relaxing evening with my two favorite girls sounds like a dream.” Dad smiles at me over Mom’s shoulder. He truly does look pleased by the prospect of spending the evening with us, even though I’m sure he has a ton of work he could be getting done right now. I smile back, hoping it doesn’t look as fake as it feels.
“Yeah, sounds amazing.”
“Yes, it’s great we can have this time together,” Mom chimes in, smiling as she picks up her phone and taps out a quick message—probably letting her minions know they have to suffer through a fabulous dinner without Her Royal Highness to tell them what to think, do, and say.
Dad opens up the refrigerator and starts rummaging around. “Are we still good with steaks on the grill? Bean, you and Mom can rustle up a salad and some baked potatoes. It’ll be just like old times.”
Before we can answer, he spins around and places a pack of rib eyes on the island. He looks over at me and grins like a Cheshire cat, which makes my heart swell in my chest with love for him. “That sounds awesome, Daddy.”
It takes us less than an hour to get dinner done, and by us, I mean me and Dad. Mom conveniently got a call that needed her immediate attention just as the steaks hit the grill, leaving me to prepare all the sides on my own. With anyone else, I would have been annoyed, but when she floated out of the kitchen and up the stairs, I was only relieved I didn’t have to spend thirty minutes listening to her complain about having to cancel her dinner plans.
I was hoping she wouldn’t come back down at all, but that ship sails away when she comes waltzing onto the patio just as Dad is setting the steaks on the table. She looks stylish and refreshed in a cream wrap dress and a pair of designer sandals. Her long curls flow over her shoulders and down her back, nearly hitting her hip.
“Oh, dinner’s done already?” She takes a seat next to my dad, who’sstill in his work clothes sans tie, and places a napkin in her lap. “I didn’t think my call was going to run that long. Ella wanted to know if I was going to be able to make lunch tomorrow. I assured her I would unless Sloane comes over to see us again.”
Her eyes are on me, waiting for me to react, but I don’t give her the satisfaction. She wants to goad me into a fight, and I’m not in the mood. “I have plans with Mal tomorrow, so your lunch with Ella should be safe.”
