It was a little after six o’clock when I pulled into the lot next to Shula’s Steakhouse. I was running a few minutes behind, so I quickly grabbed my things and rushed to the entrance. I could smell the aged-to-perfection meat while heading to the front doors.

Jessica and Neal were already seated at a small table in the middle of the bar area. Jessica waved me over. Her movement made Neal turn around just as I headed toward their table. I noticed Jessica was wearing a light-gray form-fitting pantsuit. This was a vast improvement from the oversized clothing she’d worn while married to the douchebag. My sister was so talented, smart, and beautiful when she let her true self show. Since the divorce, she had also dyed her hair a light blond that made her emerald eyes pop.

Taking the seat on the other side of the table, I said, “Sorry I’m late. Brock had to drop something off at the office.”

Neal just shook his head. I was always running behind and had an excuse. “No problem. We’ve only been here a few minutes, and we ordered you a martini.” Frowning, he looked down at his phone and seemed to brush off whatever the issue was quickly.

Neal didn’t like people prying into his life, but I knew if it had been a work issue, he would have mentioned it to Jessica or me. When his phone vibrated again, he responded. His fingers flew across the screen so quickly, I wasn’t sure he could even text that fast. He then put away his phone, clearly done with whoever was texting him.

“It’s been so long since only the three of us have spent time together,” Jessica said, trying to get her long blond locks into a hair tie.

Neal made a clicking noise in the back of his throat and gave Jessica a pointed look. “It hasn’t been just the three of us since you got married.”

Jessica started to play with the napkin and was about to ask Neal something when the waitress came over to take our orders. We all ordered the same thing: the cowboy steak. The steak was to die for, and it always melted in my mouth. Neal added an order of brussels sprouts—because they were one of my favorite sides—and a side of garlic mashed potatoes for Jessica.

When the waitress left, Jessica turned her full attention to Neal, and she continued to play with the napkin on her lap. “Why did you not tell me Doug was a member of that club? You’re a member, and you’re telling me you never saw him there?” I could see the hurt in Jessica’s eyes. I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought of that question earlier. How could he do this to her?

Neal ran his hand through his dirty-blond hair. I could tell it had been weighing on him. “Honestly, I never saw him there. He must have avoided me at all costs. I spent most of my time in back rooms or the bars. If I had known he was cheating on you, I would have told you. Despite the rules of the club. You and Patty are my only family, and I would have told you.”

Jessica’s shoulders sank, and I could tell she believed Neal. He wouldn’t lie to us. I could also tell she was happy to get that off her chest.

“No more talk about the douche. I got a call from Daddy today, and he decided it was time to come see his two favorite kids. I think he’s coming because I told him about Sam, and he wants to see if Sam is good enough for me. You will have to tell him you got divorced when he gets here. If you want, I can be there when you tell him.”

We spent the remaining time catching up with what was going on in our lives. Jessica said that since Alonzo was born, Alex hadn’t been getting enough sleep and was taking it out on everyone. Neal had been working with Brock to find information on the dark web about the stalker. His ability to hide his IP had led the team to believe he had hired a hacker to send the emails, so Brock and Neal reached out to a few hackers on the dark web. They said there was a guy paying in Bitcoin to have the messages sent out. The hacker who’d taken the job said they hadn’t exchanged any personal info and the job was paid for in Bitcoin.

Neal and I were known in the hacker community, and we put the word out that if the same guy tried to hire someone else, we wanted to know about it. I wanted it done and over with.

Dinner was fabulous, but I stopped eating because I wanted dessert. Shula’s had the best molten-chocolate cake. The warm, gooey chocolate inside would mix with the vanilla-bean ice cream. The happiness I got from that cake was close to what I felt when Sam gave me orgasms.

“Who’s ready for dessert?”

A pair of arms wrapped around me. I think I jumped ten feet off the ground. When Sam whispered in my ear that he was ready for dessert, I was sure we were talking about two different types of dessert. He wanted me laid out on the bed so he could lick me for hours. I wanted a chocolate explosion with a taste of Sam later.

“You scared the crap out of me. When did you get back?” Sam still had his arms wrapped around me, and I could smell the slight mix of his aftershave and soap. His warm body pressed against mine almost made me want to forget about dessert and head to the house.

Sam pulled his chair so close to mine that I probably could have just sat on his lap, which would have made him happy. “My plane arrived a couple hours ago. I met with Brock at work and asked him to let me surprise you and to also let him know he didn’t need to follow you to dinner.”

I had been a little surprised when Brock didn’t follow me to the restaurant. I’d chalked it up to not seeing him hiding. He knew I wanted to spend time with Neal and Jessica, just the three of us.

While we were waiting for my dessert to show up, Neal brought up the subject of my dad coming. I’d planned to tell Sam when we were alone. I hoped he would be okay with meeting my father because some people were intimidated by meeting the leader of another country. When it came to Dad, I never saw him as anything more than a loving father who would do anything for his kids.

“How do you feel about meeting King Beckett next week?” Neal asked Sam.

Neal happened to ask the question just as Sam was taking a sip of his IPA. His beer went down the wrong tube, and he coughed. “I’m sorry, did you say Patty’s dad will be here next week?”

I shifted in my seat so that I was looking at him, trying to ignore Neal and Jessica, who were working hard to cover up their laughter. Neal knew damn well I hadn’t told Sam about my dad coming. He’d wanted to see how I would handle this situation.

“Sam, Dad is coming next week.”

Before I could get the rest of my statement out, Neal blurted out: “The all-powerful King Beckett is staying with you.” Neal could barely get the sentence out without laughing.

I would not have been surprised if Neal somehow figured out a way to stay at the house also. It would be an exciting week while my father was in town.

“Neal, shut up. This is between Sam and me.” I grabbed Sam’s hand. “Dad called me today to let me know he was coming. This was not a conversation I wanted to have over the phone. I wanted to ask if it was okay. He wants to spend the week at your house. I know he can afford a hotel or stay at mine or Jessica’s house. He wants to get to know you, and he feels you can cover your true self if he shows up for quick visits.”

Sam was quiet for what seemed like an hour before he spoke. Then he reached over and hauled me onto his lap. He took me by surprise when he grabbed me, and I let out a screech that made everyone around us turn to see what was going on.

“Okay.”

“I tell you my father, the king of Shialia, is coming, and he is going to be staying at your house, and all you have to say is ‘okay’?” I added air quotes to drive it home.

“I want to be with you, Patty. If that means entertaining your father for a week, I will do it. I’ve spent a lot of time with politicians in DC—hell, I spent a few years in Afghanistan, fighting terrorists. I think I can handle your father.”

Neal laughed. He’d met our father many times and spent time with us in Shialia. My dad was high strung and thought he ruled the world. He definitely ruled the world of sarcasm.

Between breaths, Neal said, “You are so fucked. Oh, and, Patty, I’m leaving the country next week for a week or until your father is gone.”

“Where are you going? I might join. I love Dad, but a week visit is a little too much for me.”

No way was I going to let Jessica get out of staying around to help buffer Dad. “Not fucking happening. You’re lucky I’m not making you stay at Sam’s also. You will be there every night for tea and the royal dinner—”

Sam cut me off. “I’m missing something. What is the royal dinner?” The tone of Sam’s voice was getting closer to the frustrated side.