Page 94 of The Wedding Situation Romance

I follow him over to the couch and sit down. He hands me a throw, and I snuggle up in it. Then I grab one of the pillows just for good measure and take a deep breath as my dad sits across from me.

“I don’t even know where to start,” I tell him.

“Anywhere you want,” my dad says softly. “But just know, whatever it is, it can be fixed and it’s not the end of the world.”

“I don’t know,” I sigh. “This really could be the end of the world. The end of my job. The end of my love life. The end of everything I came to believe was true.”

“That’s a lot,” he says. “But I promise you. Whatever it is–wait. Love life?” he asks.

I nod. “Yep. Love life,” I say.

“So thereisa man after all. It’s a man, right?” he asks, and I toss him an eye roll. “Sorry. Just trying to make you laugh. Alright. So what catastrophe is so colossal that you feel like every important aspect of your life is over?”

I take in a breath. Hold it. And start in.

“So that donor who has been helping with finances since the funding went haywire just pulled out,” I tell him.

“Reason?” he asks. “And was it a formal contract? You know I hate the idea of you counting on word-of-mouth donors instead of formal contracts. You’re a nonprofit. It’s not just generosity. It’s your income. Your business’s livelihood.”

“I know,” I tell him. “And no. There was no truly formal contract. More of a…if I help you, you’ll help me sort of way.”

“I see,” he nods. It’s a signature response of my dad’s when he very clearly isn’t affirming of a decision I’ve made. But my dad has never been one to make me feel stupid about my decisions. It’s not his parenting style. Although it does kind of give an,I’m not angry, I’m just disappointedvibe. “And how much money were we talking about here?”

“Enough to fund more or less the entire business for the rest of the year,” I say, and the corner of his lips twitch. That’s all though. No jetting eyebrows. No widened eyes. No sudden response.

“And the tradeoff?” He asks, no doubt expecting something equally as pricey.

I bite my lip.

“How big is it, Quinny?” he asks.

“It’s not that it’sbigper se…” I trail. “It was more time-consuming and…emotionally draining than pocket training.”

My dad clears his throat, a hint to get to the point.

I let out the breath I have apparently been holding since we sat down on the couch.

“I agreed to be his date to a handful of weddings he was obligated to go to this summer…” I say. And this time I do get a brow furrow out of him.

“So let me get this straight…this man offered you…thousands of dollars and in turn you just had to go to a couple of weddings with him?” he asks. “You love weddings. And any man would be a fool not to want you on their arm. Unless…he had ulterior motives.”

“Believe me, Dad, there were no ulterior motives,” I tell him. “I wasn’t interested in him, and he wasn’t interested in me. It was strictly contractual.”

“Until…?” he asks. “And I only say until because you did mention that this story includes a romance subplot…”

“Yeah,” I sigh, kind of wishing I had that drink right now. “That got messy,” I admit.

“I can imagine.”

It’s wild, really. Even at this point in the story, with all the plot twists and turns, the man is calm and patient. Even if the whole finance part of him did ruffle his otherwise perfect feathers a bit.

“I never saw it coming,” I say, immediately hearing how cliché that sounds. “We don’t get along. Like at all. Or didn’t.”

“Enemies to lovers?” he asks.

“Worse,” I say.

“Grumpy sunshine?” he asks.