Chapter Twenty-Two
Gabby
I step into the bathroom to make sure I look presentable while I wait for Jonathan to come out of my bedroom. When he does, he grins at the way my eyes move over him, making sure the bulge in his jeans is gone—or at least less obvious.
Taking his hand to go downstairs, I return his smile. “My dead puppies suggestion worked?”
He lets out a bark of laughter. “No. I like puppies too much. I don’t want to think about them dead. I thought about my last conversation with my mom.”
My mouth twists. “Yeah, I can see how that would do the trick. You talked to her recently, right?” He mentioned it in passing, but didn’t tell me details. I wait, hoping maybe he’ll fill in the blanks. My feelings about his mom are still mixed. On the one hand, she was horrible to me. But she’s still his mom. I don’t like that they’re fighting. Or that I’m kind of the reason they’re fighting, despite Jonathan’s assurance that it has nothing to do with me personally.
He nods. “Yeah. Not for long. And not about anything too serious. But yeah.”
I want to press for more information. Did she ask about me? Try to convince him to break up with me again? Or what? How long is not long? Five minutes? Ten? Two?
But we’ve reached the bottom of the stairs, and there isn’t time now. Even if there were time, I’m not sure how much detail he’d give me, and I don’t know if that’s because he just genuinely dislikes discussing his mother or because the conversation was unpleasant and related to me. I tend to think the first, especially since he rarely brings her up, but I worry about the second.
Marissa is helping Mom in the kitchen when we approach. “Need any help?”
Mom looks up from placing rolls into a basket and shakes her head. “We’ve got it covered. Go get settled at the table. Your brother and Abby are already in there. And your dad is getting the steaks off the grill.”
Leading Jonathan into the formal dining room, I find Lance and Abby on one side of the table and Peter sitting on the other side. I blink, a little surprised. I didn’t know Peter was here.
I take the seat across from him next to Abby, putting Jonathan next to me on the end. “Hey, Peter. Good to see you.”
He smiles at us and half stands, offering his hand to Jonathan. “Hi, y’all. I hung back in the living room when you got here. Didn’t want to interrupt the welcome and meeting the parents and all that.”
Jonathan exchanges a glance with me as he shakes Peter’s hand. But I can’t do or say anything to communicate my own surprise. I’ve been so wrapped up in all of our drama and angst that I haven’t talked to Marissa much. And not at all about her and Peter since we were in LA and she told me she needed the time away to decide what to do about their stagnant relationship. So I didn’t know what, if anything, she’d decided. Since he’s here, I guess he and Marissa are still together. But not engaged. I definitely would’ve heard about that. Huh.
“Nice to meet you,” Jonathan says and sits down. An awkward silence descends on us all as we fidget in our chairs, looking around the room, at our plates.
Finally, Abby breaks the silence, leaning past me to look at Jonathan. “You got a little warmer of a welcome than I did the first time I came down. Jon put my suitcase in a separate guest room, and Lance went and threw a tantrum at his parents.”
I bite my lip to suppress my giggle at her characterization of Lance’s behavior. My brother can be loud when he’s riled up. I’d heard his shouts from my bedroom with the door closed. No one else feels the need to contain their laughter, though, as Jonathan and Peter both chuckle. Lance lets out a low growl, but the smile on his face gives away the fact that he’s only pretending to be annoyed.
“Awkwardly meeting the parents at Christmas time seems to be a tradition around here,” Abby continues, and looks at Peter. “Did you have a terrible first Christmas with them too?”
Peter takes a swallow of his glass of water and shakes his head. “Ah, no. I already knew the Kanes by the time I got invited for Christmas as Marissa’s boyfriend. My welcome was far less awkward.”
Abby shrugs. “Well, at least it’s not just me anymore. Now Peter’s the anomaly.” With a smile, she turns back to Jonathan. “We can commiserate about being the unwelcome outsiders.”
My eyebrows come down as I turn to my sister-in-law. “You don’t still feel that way, do you? I know my dad wasn’t great at first, but he’s come around. Hasn’t he?”
Laying a hand on my arm, Abby gives a reassuring squeeze. “Of course he has. No, I’ve never really felt unwelcome. Your dad was a little weird at first, but the next time I saw your parents he was kind and warm. Well, as warm as he gets.”
I snort out a laugh at that, and my brother chuckles too. Jonathan’s eyes bounce back and forth between the three of us. “It’s nice to know I’m not the only one. He hates all of us equally at first.”
Tilting his head to one side, Lance looks at Peter. “Well, not everyone. Peter’s always been his favorite. He’s the son he never had.”
At Lance’s words, a taut silence stretches between the five of us, no one quite knowing what to say to that. Jonathan’s too new to our family dynamic to know what Lance is talking about. Abby reaches over and squeezes Lance’s arm, while Peter looks uncomfortable.
Finally, Peter clears his throat. “You know it’s not really like that.”
“Yeah, man. I know.” Lance picks up his glass and studies Peter over the top of it. “Let’s just say there’s a reason I don’t visit more often, though.”
Peter nods. “Well, maybe—” but he doesn’t get to finish whatever he was going to say, because Mom and Marissa come in with the rolls, foil-wrapped baked potatoes, and salad. Dad brings up the rear with a plate full of steaks.
I exchange a glance with my brother and offer him a small smile. He’s right and he’s wrong about things with Peter. Yeah, Peter took over Lance’s place in Dad’s shop, and since Peter’s dating Marissa, Dad’s always welcomed him. But things between Lance and Dad have been tense for a lot longer than Peter’s been in the picture. And if Dad welcomed him as Marissa’s boyfriend, it was only because he got to know Peter before they started dating.
He hasn’t had that luxury with Abby or Jonathan, both of whom we met while two thousand miles away. Not that it’s a good excuse, but I think Dad feels excluded from our lives since we chose to leave and abandon our family. At least that’s how he sees it. We strayed from the plans he envisioned for us, and he hasn’t really come to terms with that yet.
But he has been nicer to Abby since that first Christmas she came to visit. And he didn’t balk about Jonathan staying in my room, which shocked the hell out of me. I’m pretty sure there were some conversations behind closed doors about all of that, but I didn’t even hear him grumbling under his breath when Mom told me to take Jonathan upstairs today. And she told me earlier this week that it was okay for him to stay with me.
Dad sits at the end of the table opposite Jonathan, with Mom next to him and Marissa taking the middle spot between her and Peter. After taking the first steak, Dad passes the plate to Mom, pointing at a few and saying, “These are medium rare. The rest are medium. Hope no one likes their steak well done.”
Conversation is limited to requests to pass dishes until our plates are all full, and then a comfortable silence descends as we start to eat. Now that Jonathan’s here, I feel more settled, happier than I’ve been since I got back after finals. I can’t help smiling at him almost constantly. And he keeps smiling back.
After a few minutes, he says, “This is delicious. I haven’t had a meal like this in a long time. Thank you.”
My mom smiles, looking pleased. “Our pleasure. We’re glad you could join us this week. I know you have a busy schedule.”
Jonathan nods and smiles back. “I’d scheduled a break for this week anyway. I’m glad that I get to spend it with Gabby and finally meet you as well. It’s long overdue.”
“You can say that again.” All eyes swivel to my dad, who has a calculating look on his face. “But as Elizabeth said, y’all’ve been real busy. Hard to make time for family when you’re traveling all over.”
My eyes widen, then narrow at my dad, but he ignores me.
Jonathan swallows the bite of food in his mouth. “It can be. But launching new projects is always the busiest time. I’m sure starting your business was the same way. Long hours and hard work to get it off the ground.”
Dad studies Jonathan while he chews, and Jonathan holds his gaze, never looking away. Everyone else is silent, watching them face off, each trying to find the measure of the other. Jonathan has always been deferential to my parents when they’ve spoken on the phone, especially my father. His goal was to be respectful and polite so they wouldn’t automatically hate him. Now, he’s trying to prove himself. Which is good, really. Because showing a backbone will do more to earn my dad’s respect than anything else. And even though it’s not crucial, I do want my parents to get along with the man I love.
“So you think”—Dad gestures with his fork—“what you’re doing, playing the guitar and flying all over, dragging our daughter with you and taking her away from studying—you think that’s similar to me starting my garage?”
I suck in a breath, ready to jump in, but Jonathan’s hand finds my leg under the table. He gives it a squeeze and leaves it there while he answers. “I admit that the parallels aren’t all that obvious. But yes. Music is a business. What I’m doing right now, touring, is building my brand. All the glamour that you see as part of it—the concerts, the videos, the interviews, the posters—that’s all part of that branding. That’s what sells. Marketing is all about finding what your customer wants or needs and filling that niche. Your customers need trustworthy service at a reasonable price, or something similar, right?”
Dad is sitting back in his chair, his fork resting on his plate as Jonathan says all this. And I see Lance nodding. “He’s right, Dad. Both about how marketing works and about our target market,” Lance murmurs quietly. But his words are clear in the room, as everyone has stopped eating and is sitting still, listening. Waiting for Dad to make up his mind about Jonathan, because it’s plain as day that this is all a big test.
Raising an eyebrow, Dad’s eyes cut to Lance. “Our target market?”
Lance huffs out a breath. “Fine. Your target market. You know what I mean. And since you’ve consulted me about your marketing, because you want to take advantage of the degree you paid for as you like to remind me every time we discuss it, I still feel a sense of ownership. I worked there through high school, and I help out in the ways I can from where I live now. Is there ever going to be a time where you don’t hold it over my head that I’m not working with you?”
His words are delivered calmly, almost softly, but all attention has now shifted to my brother and dad and away from Jonathan. Even though I’m not looking at him, I feel him relax beside me. Though we both know that his part in this conversation isn’t over yet either.
Crossing his arms, Dad turns his face to Lance at last. He lets out a breath and gives a slight nod, his blue eyes looking over my brother’s face. “Probably.”
Mom shoves his shoulder. “Jon,” she says, in that voice that carries both disapproval and encouragement to do the right thing wrapped in one small syllable. Dad glances at her, and she rolls her eyes at him. He gives her a small smile and reaches for her hand before looking at Lance again.
“Fine. Yes. I’ll let it go. You’ve made it clear that you’re doing what makes you happy, and I’m glad for that. I also appreciate your help with the advertising campaigns for the shop. Thank you for what you’ve done. And I suppose it does give you the right to call it our shop.”
Lance lets out a small chuckle. “Thanks.”
I reach for Jonathan’s hand that still rests on my leg as my dad turns back to him. “You were saying?” But his face is softer, more open, less like he’s waiting for Jonathan to fail a test and more like he’s curious about what he has to say.
With a breath, Jonathan continues. “Well, if you were wanting to focus only on luxury cars you’d use different marketing tactics, right?”
Dad’s eyes cut to Lance, who nods as he tears off a piece of his roll.
“Right,” Jonathan continues. “Building a brand as a recording artist is more like marketing to luxury consumers. You need to have the mystery and glamour. And since my market is spread across the country, I have to go to them. That’s how I make my money.”
Silence descends over the dining room again as everyone stills, waiting for Dad to say something.
“Makes sense,” is his anticlimactic response, and he picks his knife and fork up again. With his eyes on his plate, he continues to speak as he cuts into his steak. “Just be good to my daughter. She’s still my baby girl, even if she thinks she’s all grown up now.” He looks up, spearing us both with his gaze. “I don’t care how famous you are, I won’t stand for anyone mistreating her.”
Jonathan squeezes my hand again when I open my mouth to respond to that. “I won’t stand for anyone mistreating her, either.”
They have another staring contest before Dad nods again. “Good. Glad we’re on the same page.” And he starts eating, turning to talk to Mom.
I blink a few times, watching as the tension in the room has completely dissolved as though it never existed, with everyone returning to their food, conversation and laughter flowing around me as Marissa makes a joke about something.
It takes Jonathan leaning over and placing a gentle kiss on my temple to pull me out of my daze. “Eat, Gabby. I’m pretty sure I won him over. Or at least made significant headway. If he hasn’t yet, he’ll come around. We’re good.”
I give a jerky nod, and he squeezes my hand before letting it go. Now that I’m moving again, my muscles start working normally, and I pick up my fork to take a bite of my salad.
Jonathan’s right. This is good. Not how I expected things to go down, but I can’t complain.
With a deep breath, I smile at Jonathan, who smiles back before turning to resume his conversation with Peter and Marissa. Like he fits right in.
A weight I didn’t even realize I’d been carrying slips from me. Because, yeah, even though I wouldn’t have broken up with him if my dad hadn’t given his approval, it’s nice to feel like I won’t have to fight my parents about everything to do with my relationship anymore. It’s a relief.