“Pretty boy. What are you doing here?”
“I texted you to say I was on my way.” Rolling my eyes, I stride through the front door of the Brooklyn brownstone where Allie grew up.
“Yeah, and I asked you why. So. What are you doing here?”
Joe Hayes leans on his cane as he watches me enter. His face displays only mild hostility, which is better than usual. Allie’s dad and I didn’t hit it off the moment we met, but I like to think that over the years I’ve grown on him. Although the one time I voiced that thought, Joe had nodded and said, “Like a fungus.” He’s a real delight.
“Brought you some groceries,” I say, kicking off my shoes.
“Why?”
“My God, you’re like Tucker’s three-year-old. Because I thought you might need food.” I turn to him with a mock frown. “Want to know the proper response when someone brings you groceries? Why, thank you, pretty boy, I appreciate the gesture. How did I get so lucky as to have you in my daughter’s life?”
“Dean. Don’t bullshit a bullshitter. You’re a nice kid. But you’re not a drop-off-groceries-for-no-reason kind of guy. Which means you’ve got an ulterior motive.” He eyes the two paper bags I’m holding. “Any corned beef in there?”
“’Course.” I’ve been here enough times to know what he likes from the deli down the street. “Come on, I’ll fix us some sandwiches while I reveal my ulterior motive.”
With a chuckle, he hobbles to the kitchen behind me, relying far too heavily on his cane. I almost suggest we go and dust off his wheelchair, but stop myself at the last second because it’ll only put him in an even fouler mood. Allie’s dad refuses to use that chair. I’m not sure I blame him—it can’t feel great going from a fit, physical man to a weakened one with a degenerative disorder. Unfortunately, MS doesn’t have a cure, and Joe eventually needs to come to terms with the fact that his condition is only going to get worse. Hell, it already has. His limp is already far more pronounced than when we first met. But he’s a proud man. Stubborn like his daughter. I know he’s going to hold out on using the wheelchair for as long as humanly possible.
While Joe slowly lowers himself onto a chair, I prepare two sandwiches at the counter, then grab two beers from the fridge.
“It’s noon,” he points out.
“I need the liquid courage.”
Just like that, his expression becomes more pained than usual. “Aw man, no. Is that it? Today’s the day?”
I frown. “What day?”
He scrubs one hand over his eyes, the other over his dark beard. “You’re gonna ask for my blessing. Aw hell. Just get it over with and ask, then. You really need to drag out the torture and make both of us uncomfortable? I’d rather be waterboarded. Goddamn it. We both know I’m going to say yes, okay? So do it already.”
I gape at him for a second. Then a wave of laughter spills out. “With all due respect, sir? You’re the fucking worst. I had a whole speech prepared.”
But I suppose I’m glad I don’t have to recite it. I can’t imagine anything more humiliating than pouring your heart out to a man who equates sharing his feelings to literal torture.
I set a plate in front of him before taking a seat across the table. All the wind’s out of my sails as I grumble, “So I’ve got your blessing?”
He takes a bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly. “Got the ring with you?”
“Yup. Want to see it?”
“Bring it out, kid.”
I reach into my pocket for the blue velvet box. When I flip it open, his dark eyebrows shoot up like two helium balloons.
“Couldn’t find anything bigger?” he asks sarcastically.
“You think she won’t like it?” I despair for a moment.
“Oh, she’s going to love it. You know AJ. When it comes to jewelry, the bigger and shinier, the better.”
“That was my thought process,” I say with a grin. I close the ring box and tuck it back in my pocket. “All seriousness—are you truly okay if I ask her to marry me? You weren’t exactly my biggest fan when we first met.”
“Eh, you’re all right.” His lips twitch. “You guys are young, though.”
“When did you get engaged to Allie’s mom?” I ask curiously.
“Twenty-one,” he admits. “Married at twenty-two.”
I tip my head as if to say, see? “That’s way younger than us.”
“Yeah, but times are different now,” he says gruffly. “AJ has a career, goals. And women are having babies later and later these days. There’s no rush anymore.” Joe shrugs. “But if it’s something the two of you want, then I won’t stand in your way. AJ loves you. I like you somewhat. Good enough for me.”
I smother a burst of laughter. That’s about as ringing an endorsement as I’m ever going to get from Joe Hayes.
We clink beer bottles and then talk hockey while we eat our sandwiches.
My next stop is Manhattan. Allie and I live on the Upper East Side, but my mother’s office is on the west end, which is where the taxi drops me almost an hour later.
Mom smiles happily when the receptionist shows me into her office. “Sweetie! This is a nice surprise!”
She rises from her plush leather chair and rounds the desk to come give me a warm hug. I hug her back and plant a kiss on her cheek. Mom and I are close. Ditto for me and Dad. Truth be told, my parents are awesome. They’re both high-profile lawyers, so that means yes, my siblings and I had nannies growing up on account of that. But we also had plenty of family time. Mom and Dad were always there for us when we needed them, and they definitely didn’t let us run wild like feral children. Well, maybe Summer, to some extent. That girl’s got the folks wrapped around her little finger.
“I have a big favor to ask,” I tell my mother as she sits at the corner of her desk. “Can I borrow the penthouse tonight?”
For my entire childhood, we would split our time between our house in Greenwich and our penthouse at the Heyward Plaza Hotel. My mom’s side of the family, the Heywards, built a real estate empire that made them billions, and the Heyward Plaza is one of its crown jewels. Although our villa in St. Barth’s isn’t anything to scoff at either.
“I feel like you’re a teenager again,” Mom says, narrowing her eyes. They’re the same shade of sea green as mine and Summer’s. My brother Nick is the only kid who inherited Dad’s brown ones. “You’re not planning a kegger, are you?”
“Nope. Nothing like that.”
“What’s the occasion then?”
Unable to contain my grin, I slide my hand in the pocket of my trousers. It emerges with the ring box, which I place on her cherry-stained desk without a single word.
Mom instantly understands. She releases a squeal of joy and suddenly she’s hugging me again.
“Oh my God! When are you going to do it? Tonight?” She claps her hands happily. My folks adore Allie, so I’m not surprised by her jubilant response.
“I was hoping. I know it’s weird to do it in the middle of the week, but Saturday is Allie’s wrap party for the show, and then Sunday my girls have a tournament in Albany, so I’m out of town. I didn’t want to wait until Sunday night, so.” I shrug. “I figured tonight’s the night. I know you’re at the penthouse this week, but I was wondering if you could clear out for a few hours while—”
“Say no more. I’ll drive back to Greenwich tonight.”
“You don’t have to leave the city,” I protest.
“I was going home on Friday anyway. A few days early won’t matter.” She claps her hands again. “Oh, your father is going to be so happy!”
“Nope. You’re not allowed to tell him until after I do it.”
Mom’s jaw drops. “You really expect me to keep that kind of secret from him?”
“You have no choice. Dad tells Summer everything, and Summer can’t keep her mouth shut to save her life.”
After a beat, Mom surrenders. “You’re right. Your sister sucks.”
I snort out a laugh.
“Fine. I won’t tell Dad.” She beams at me. “My lips will remain sealed until I receive a call saying my baby boy is engaged.”
I sigh. “Mom. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
That just makes her laugh.
