Page 50 of The Wedding Situation Romance

“I swear to God, Dad, don’t make me cry at the dinner table,” I say.

“I miss…how opinionated she was. How she always said exactly what she was thinking, and you knew without a doubt how passionate she was about it,” he goes on.

“I miss the way she used to curse at everything but people. She scolded drivers in traffic the way you’d correct a preschooler, but if she sliced her finger open cutting a pineapple–”

“She’d call the knife a dick,” he laughs, and I do too.

Then I swallow. “I miss being able to talk to her. Listening to her advice while she braided my hair, which always took hours because she never wanted me to cut it…”

“And you still haven’t cut it,” he notes softly.

“No. I haven’t,” I whisper with a small smile. Then I clear my throat. Because I didn’t come to my dad’s house for dinner to cry into my sangria.

“So, is there a lucky man in your life?” he asks. He always asks this question, probably because, like everyone else, he finds it ironic that I invest so much of my time and energy into otherpeople’s relationships and the concept of love in general, and I’m perpetually single.

I am about to say no, but the truth slips out instead. Well. Part of the truth.

“I have been seeing someone, sort of,” I answer before popping a small cut of steak into my mouth. I close my eyes and savor the perfectly seasoned, perfectly tender cut of medium-cooked meat.

“Seeing someone sort of,” my dad parrots with a hint of skepticism. “And what exactly isseeing someone, sort of?” he asks.

“I’ve been going to a lot of weddings,” I tell him, cutting another bite of steak. “As a plus-one.”

“A plus-one,” he continues to repeat my words. “Quinn, honey, you are nobody’s plus-one. If anything, they should beyourplus-one.”

I just smile at my dad. “We are each other’s plus-ones,” I say.

“So, is it getting serious? Is it someone I need to have over for steak and sangria and interrogation?” he asks.

“No, no, and absolutely no,” I say with a chuckle. “It’s not like that. I’m not in love with him and I’m not going to fall in love with him, so there’s no need to fuss,” I state matter-of-factly as I reach for my sangria. But before it reaches my mouth, he cuts in again.

“Are you sure about that?” he asks casually.

I blink. “What do you mean? Of course I’m sure about that.”

“I see,” he nods as he eats.

“You see what?” I ask, the sangria still paused between my mouth and the table.

“You’re different,” he adds.

“Different from what?”

“You have a spring in your step.Morespring in your step. You’re happy and glowing and, oh god, you’re not pregnant, are you?”

“Oh my God, Dad, no! I’m not pregnant. And I’m not in love,” I insist. “I’m just…excited that you’re agreeing to take Ashley’s case, that’s all. Though I like to think it won’t ever reach a courtroom. But even if it does, I’m sure you’ll smoke whoever it is.”

“Perhaps,” he chuckles.

Chapter 21

Reid

“Are you sure this is normal?”Mike asks, pacing the hallway as I prolong us stepping into the conference room. He’s nervous as shit for some reason and he needs to cool it. Luckily, I am impeccable at being nervous enough for both of us.

“It’s very normal. Trust me,” I say, and I wish he would. He’s not paying for one of the best lawyers in the state of New York for nothing.

“But what’s the point of this meeting?” he asks. “Why can’t we just go straight to the courtroom?”