“Dad, can we hold off on the threatening to murder my boyfriend talk until we finish moving?” I quickly question, hoping a little levity might defuse the tension.
“Yeah, Kline,” Thatch adds, but he stops talking when his phonestarts ringing loudly from his pocket. He pulls it out, glances at the screen, and groans.
“It’s Gunnar,” he mutters as he puts the phone to his ear. “If you’re not on US soil, I’m going to call the US Embassy and tell them to keep your ass wherever you are.”
There’s a pause, and then his eyes widen. “What do you mean, you’re at the Manhattan police station?”
Ace turns toward his dad, brows raised.
“I have a license, Dad!” I hear Gunnar’s voice yell through the phone.
“You don’t have a fuckingCDLlicense, Gunnar!” Thatch yells back. “You can’t fluffing drive a semitruck through Times Square!”
Cassie looks up from her decorative pillow arranging. “What happened now?”
Thatch slaps a hand over the speaker and mutters, “Our son’s been brought in for driving a tractor trailer through the city. He says it was for his business.”
“His business?” Cassie questions in confusion. “He doesn’t have a fucking business.”
My dad shakes his head, whistling sharply and counting his blessings all at once. “I guess I should just be thankful Julia’s dating Ace and not Gunnar.”
“Cass,” Thatch says, pointing at her like he’s delivering devastating news. “We have to go down to the Manhattan police station.”
“We?”She snorts as she holds up another photo of Ace and me toward the wall. “You meanyou.”
“Yes,we.” Thatch sighs. “He’s your son, Cassie.”
“Yeah, but Ace is my favorite son today.”
“Shall I remind you that our son could be going to jail?”
“Thatch, you and I both know jail is thelastplace Gunnar should be. He’ll learn too much. Make too many friends. I’ll end up entertaining men with teardrop face tattoos named Snake and Meathead. I’m not cut out for that life. I don’t even know how to make toilet wine.”
“Is there a point to this?” Thatch questions, both hands on his hips now.
“Yeah,” Cassie retorts. “The point is thatyoubetter get your big ass down there and fix it.”
Thatch turns toward Kline with a hopeful look. “Kline? A little help?”
Kline sighs the loudest dad-sigh in history. “Let’s go get your delinquent.”
As they head for the door, I hear Thatch already calling his lawyer. “Caplin Hawkins, my guy. I’ve got another problem…”
I turn back to the chaos of the apartment, now quieter with half the parents gone. Cassie and my mom are still hanging framed memories like they’re trying to turn our apartment into a museum of “The Love Story of Ace and Julia.”
Ace sidles up beside me and grabs my hand, tugging me gently.
“Come here,” he whispers before pulling me into our walk-in closet and pointedly shutting the door.
I giggle. “What are you doing?”
“Is it creeping you out a little bit how many framed pictures of us our moms are hanging?”
“Creeping me out?” I laugh. “It’s like Chucky started a romance magazine. I already planned to take some down after they leave.”
He grins and leans in to kiss me. “Hello, roomie.”
“Hey, yourself,” I say, smiling up at him. “You ready to live with me?”
