I start to rise too, but Mom lays a hand over mine. “Let them.”
I blink at her.Let them?
She gives me a small smile, but her eyes are following the two men into the kitchen like a hawk.
From my seat, I watch Jordan take off his blazer and roll up his sleeves. He takes the towel Dad tosses him and stands at the sink like he’s done it a hundred times before.
Dad washes and Jordan dries, the two of them working in companionable silence, until Dad speaks. “So, Jordan. What exactly do you want with my daughter?”
My heart stutters.
I can’t see Jordan’s face, but I hear his answer clearly.
“I’d like your blessing to be with her, sir.”
Dad sets a plate in the drying rack. “Be with her,” he echoes. “Meaning what, exactly?”
“Meaning having a serious, long term relationship with her.”
Dad finally turns to face him fully. “Sabrina’s still in high school and still figuring her life out. You don’t think it’s selfish, trying to plant yourself in the middle of all that?”
Jordan doesn’t flinch. “I think what would be selfish is if Idon’ttry to be in her life. To feel the way I do about her, to know how she feels about me, and turn my back on all of it because it's not pretty on paper.”
There's silence for several beats, then Dad sighs. “Look, you're older. Driven. Experienced in the ways of the world. Sabrina’s innocent.” Dad says.
Jordan’s voice is steady, but I hear the catch in it. “I hear what you're not saying sir. Your daughter is one of the most authentic people I’ve ever met, sir. She won't be overwhelmed by my worldor anything I represent. If anything, she’ll be the one grounding me.”
I press a hand to my chest. Oh.
He pauses. “I respect her opinions. I admire her values. And I love her. Very much.”
Dad stops washing and dries his hands. "There's something else you left out. Sabrina is quite stubborn—always has been. Once she sets her mind on something, there's no talking her out of it."
Jordan chuckles. I know that, sir.
"Well, she seems to have set her mind on you."
Jordan goes still.
Dad steps to Jordan and growls. "Listen, Sabrina is my only child. She's my whole world. If you hurt her— Hurt her, and I don't care whose name you bear or how much money you have. I will bury you. You understand me?"
“I understand,” Jordan says quietly. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
A long, aching pause. Then Dad exhales. “Good.” He picks up the dish towel. "Let's finish these plates. Our girls are probably wondering if I've murdered you."
Our girls.
Daddy called me Jordan's girl. And just like that, permission granted.
An hour later, I walk Jordan to his car. The desert night air is crisp and dry, filled with the distant chirp of crickets and the faint hum of electricity in the air.
Jordan exhales like he's been holding his breath for hours.
"You okay?" I ask, bumping his arm lightly with mine.
He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a quiet laugh. “I feel like I just got knighted. Or hazed. Maybe both.”
I smile. “You did great. You passed the Bobby and Maria Wells vibe check.”
