The Deal(112)

Garrett answers in a brusque, but polite voice. “It’s nice to meet you too…?”

He lets that hang, and her pale blue eyes flicker with unhappiness, as if she’s realized that Garrett’s father hadn’t told his son the name of the woman he was dating.

Her smile falters for a beat before steadying. “Cindy,” she fills in. “And you must be Garrett’s girlfriend.”

“Hannah,” I supply, leaning in to shake her hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Your father is in the sitting room,” she tells Garrett. “He’s very excited to see you.”

Neither Cindy nor I miss the sardonic snort that sounds from Garrett’s direction. I squeeze his hand in a silent warning to be nice, all the while wondering what she means by “sitting room.” I always assumed that sitting rooms were where rich people gathered around to drink their sherry or brandy before sauntering into their thirty-seat dining rooms.

But the interior of the brownstone is a lot larger than it looks from the outside. We walk past two rooms—a living room, and yet another living room—before we reach the sitting room. Which looks like…another living room. I think about my parents’ cozy split level in Ransom and how that measly three-bedroom house has nearly bankrupted them, and it brings a rush of sorrow. It doesn’t seem fair that a man like Phil Graham should have all these rooms and the money to furnish them, while good people like my parents are working so hard to keep their roof over their heads.

When we walk in, Garrett’s dad is in a brown wing-backed chair, balancing a tumbler of amber liquid on his knee. Like Garrett, he’s wearing a suit, and the resemblance between them is jarring. They have the same gray eyes, the same strong jaw and chiseled face, but Phil’s features seem sharper, and he has wrinkles around his mouth, as if he scowled one too many times and his muscles froze in that position.

“Phil, this is Hannah,” Cindy says cheerily as she settles on the plush loveseat next to Phil’s chair.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Graham,” I say politely.

He nods at me.

That’s it. A nod.

I have no idea what to say after that, and my palm goes clammy in Garrett’s hand.

“Have a seat, you two.” Cindy gestures to the leather sofa near the electric fireplace.

I sit.

Garrett remains standing. He doesn’t say a word to his father. Or to Cindy. Or to me.

Oh f*ck. If he’s planning on keeping up this silent routine all night, then we’re in for one long and awkward Thanksgiving.

Absolute silence stretches between the four of us.

I rub my damp hands on my knees and try to smile, but I feel like it might actually be a grimace. “So…no football?” I say lightly, glancing at the flat screen mounted on the wall. “I thought that was a Thanksgiving tradition.” God knows it’s all my family does when we go to Aunt Nicole’s for the holiday. My uncle Mark is a rabid football fan, and even though the rest of us prefer hockey, we still have a good time watching the all-day game fest on TV.

Garrett, however, refused to show up any earlier than he had to, so the afternoon games have already been won and lost. I’m pretty sure the Dallas game is just starting, though.

Cindy is quick to shake her head. “Phil doesn’t like football.”

“Oh,” I say.

Cue: more silence.

“So, Hannah, what are you majoring in?”

“Music. Vocal performance, to be exact.”

“Oh,” she says.

Silence.

Garrett rests his shoulder against the tall oak bookcase near the door. I sneak a peek in his direction and notice that his expression is completely vacant. I sneak a peek in Phil’s direction and notice that his expression is the same.

Oh God. I don’t think I’ll be able to survive this night.

“Something smells wonderful—” I start.

“I should go check on the turkey—” Cindy starts.

We both laugh awkwardly.

“Let me help you with that.” I practically dive to my feet, which is a big oh-no-no when you’re wearing four-inch heels. I sway for one heart-stopping moment, terrified I’m going to topple over, but then my equilibrium steadies and I’m able to take a step without falling.

Yep, I’m a terrible girlfriend. Uncomfortable situations make me nervous and itchy, and as much as I want to stick by Garrett’s side and help him through this hell of a night, I can’t stomach the thought of being trapped in a room with two males whose animosity is tainting all the oxygen in the room.