Beautiful Bitch(17)

I’d called Dad the morning of Chloe’s presentation, telling him I’d planned to attend and convince her to present the Papadakis slides. I told him, too, that I was going to ask her to take me back. As usual, Dad had been supportive, but guarded, telling me that no matter what Chloe said, he was proud of me for going after what I wanted.

What I wanted now stepped into the house and hugged my mother, and my father, before looking up at me. “I don’t know what I was worried about,” she whispered.

“Were you nervous?” Mom asked, eyes wide.

“I just left so abruptly. I’ve felt bad about that, and about not seeing either of you for months . . .” Chloe trailed off.

“No, no, no, no—you had to put up with Bennett,” Henry said, ignoring my irritated sigh. “Trust us, we get it.”

“Come on,” I groaned, pulling her back. “We don’t need to make this a thing.”

“I just knew,” Mom whispered, putting her hands on Chloe’s face. “I knew.”

“What the hell, Mom?” I stepped closer, hugging her first and giving her a scowl second. “You ‘knew’ this even when you set her up with Joel?”

“I think the phrase is ‘shit or get off the pot,’?” Henry offered.

“That is absolutely not the phrase I would have used, Henry Ryan.” Mom threw him a look and then wrapped her arm around Chloe, urging her down the hall. She turned to talk to me over her shoulder. “I figured if you didn’t see what was right in front of your face, maybe another man deserved a shot.”

“Poor Joel never had a shot,” Dad mumbled, surprising all of us and apparently even himself. He looked up, and then laughed. “Someone had to say it.”

Climbing out of the car, I smiled at the memory of the rest of that evening: the ten minutes during which we’d all dissolved into hysterics over our shared experiences of getting food poisoning at inopportune times, the unbelievable crème br?lée my mother had served after dinner, and, much later, the way Chloe and I had barely made it back inside my house before falling into a tangle of limbs and sweat on my living room floor.

I turned the knob on my parents’ front door, knowing my dad would still be up, but hoping not to wake my mother. The knob creaked and I eased it open with familiar care, lifting it slightly where I knew the wood swelled a little at the threshold.

But, to my surprise, Mom greeted me in the entryway, wearing her old purple robe and holding two cups of tea.




“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you haven’t made one inappropriate comment or referred to me riding, sucking, licking, touching, stroking, grabbing, or otherwise praising your dick once in the last three hours. I can practically hear you thinking and frankly, I’m a little concerned.”

He reached down and smacked my ass. “Better? Your tits look great in that sweater, by the way.”

“Talk to me.”

“I’m meeting your father,” he said, pulling at his collar.

“And?”

“And he knows what an * I was.” I cleared my throat and he glared at me. “Can be.”

“Can be?”

“Chloe.”

“It’s all part of the Bennett Ryan charm everyone goes on about,” I said, batting my lashes at him. “Since when did you apologize for that?”

He sighed. “Since we’re going to see your father. And if he owns a calendar, he would have figured out that I was sleeping with you while we worked together.”

“I had to face your family after all that, too. I’m sure Mina told Henry about the Bathroom Incident, and if Henry knows then Elliott knows. And if Elliott knows . . . oh my God, your mother knows we had sex in her favorite bathroom . . . when Joel was there on a blind setup to meet me.” I smacked my palm to my forehead.

“Yeah, well, my family practically walks around wearing Team Chloe shirts under their regular clothes so it’s a little different.”

We reached the door to the rental agency and I took his hand, stopping him. “Look, my dad knows who his daughter is. He knows I can be a little spirited—”

“Ha!”

It was my turn to glare. “And he knows I give as good as I get. You’re fine.”

He sighed and leaned forward to rest his forehead against mine. “If you say so.”