Teagan

My dad looks skeptical when I open the door to let him and Mom into Joshua’s house. His gaze rakes over my body and his nostrils flare as if he can smell the crazy boss sex I’ve been having.

Mom sweeps into the house and wraps me up in one of her patented bear hugs. “Oh, Tea. It’s so good to see you. You look positively radiant.” She holds me at arms-length and gives me a stern look. “You know you didn’t have to hide out here all summer, right? You could have at least come to visit.” She shakes her head. “I guess I should be grateful that there’s one more month before you go back to school. We’ll get your stuff moved into your old room and I’ll just have to keep you hostage the rest of the summer, right Robert?” She turns to my dad.

He shakes his head. “It’s really good to see you, Tea-Ball.” His gaze sweeps over the interior of Joshua’s house.

Joshua appears behind us, wiping his hands on a dishtowel that he then stuffs into his back pocket. “Hello, Robert.” He offers a hand to my dad. “Barbara.” He nods in my mother’s direction. “I’m so glad you could join us this evening.” Joshua drapes an arm around my shoulder and my mom’s eyebrows skyrocket.

“Thank you for inviting us,” she says, her manners too firmly ingrained to let her do anything else.

“I have some things to attend to in the kitchen.” Joshua smiles broadly. “Teagan? Why don’t you pour your parents something to drink and take them out by the pool? I’ll join you in a second once the steaks are ready for the grill.”

My dad’s internal warning system is going off like crazy. I can see it all over his face. It is a little weird that his boss would be giving me orders like that, especially since we’ve supposedly never met. Just like it’s a little weird that I’m the one answering the door to invite them into his boss’ house. But, to my dad’s credit, he smiles through it, lets me pour him a drink, and follows me right out to have a seat at the patio furniture under the pergola.

My mom comments on the view and Dad nods his approval. We stumble through small talk until I manage to find a topic for mom to gossip about and then Dad and I tune out—nodding and making sounds of shock and dismay—until Joshua joins us with a huge tray of steak and grilling utensils. He lifts the lid on the grill and lays the meat on the grate. They sizzle and hiss over the flames. Once he has everything situated, he takes a seat beside me and rests a hand on my knee.

And that, my friends, is that.

My dad has had just about everything he could possibly take. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asks, staring at Joshua like he’s a creeper with a moletstache hanging out at the playground.

Joshua sits back, surprised, then stares down at his hand on my knee, recognition dawning across his face. I expect him to yank his hand off my thigh but he doesn’t. He smiles and gives my leg a squeeze.

My dad lurches to his feet. “With all due respect, Mr. Kincaid, get your damn hands off my daughter.”

Here we go. The shit is officially about to hit the fan.

“Robert…” My mom reaches out to take Dad’s hand.

He shakes it away. “Let me handle this, Barbara.” He turns to Joshua, waiting for an explanation.

“Robert, please. Have a seat.” Joshua gestures towards Dad’s chair, smiling warmly.

“I will do no such thing. Not until you get your hand off my daughter.”

The next few seconds happen in some kind of slow motion awfulness that I will never forget for as long as I live. Joshua does remove his hand from my thigh but then goes right ahead and wraps it around my shoulder. He opens his mouth to explain and gets as far as Mr. and Mrs. Flowers, Teagan and I… before my dad flies into a Neanderthal-like rage like nothing I’ve ever seen from him before. He comes roaring around the table as Joshua leaps to his feet, his chair clattering to the concrete. My mom screams and I just sit there with my mouth hanging open as my dad grabs the father of my unborn child by the shirt and, through some horrible combination of struggle and chaos, manages to toss him right into the pool.

“Dad!” I lurch to my feet, screaming, as my father turns to me.

“Get your things, Teagan. We’re leaving.”

Joshua breaks the surface of the water, sputtering, as my mom flails her arms in that way of hers and goes off like a chicken on a mission, clucking and chattering as she paces back and forth. Dad grabs my arm and I yank it away.

“Dad. Stop.”

He reaches for my wrist again. “He has no right to touch you like that and you don’t have to take it just because he’s my boss. My job isn’t worth your dignity.”

“Dad.” I stare at my father and take a long breath. “He has every right to touch me.”

My dad blinks in surprise, trying—and failing—to formulate his thoughts. Mom freezes mid-cluck, her arms extended out to the side and stares at me like I just admitted to treason.

“I love him.” I gesture towards Joshua as he climbs out of the pool, water pouring from his clothes. “It’s a long story but I love him and I’m pregnant with his baby so he has every right to touch me and I’d appreciate it if you would apologize to the man of my dreams for throwing him in the pool.”

Joshua arrives beside me, dripping wet and smiling sheepishly as my parents stare at us in confused silence. Joshua digs in his pocket, trying to get his hand past the wet fabric.

“Mr. Flowers,” he begins just as the steaks on the grill go up in flames.