“No, she already knows our situation. Although we could fake it a little bit for the public while we’re at the restaurant.” I reach into the fridge and start to pull out the stuff we need for sandwiches. “She’s my best friend, so it makes sense she wants to meet you, even if we’re only doing this for a year.”
“Got it.”
We build our sandwiches—turkey with lettuce and tomato slices for me, and a massive construct of virtually everything in the fridge for Devlin. When we’re almost done with the lunch, his phone rings.
He looks down then snorts. “I’m going to put this on speaker,” he says.
“Why? Don’t you want privacy?”
“It isn’t that kind of call. You need to hear it too. It’s my dad.”
Oh. I haven’t met any of his family yet. Or even called. Should I have done that? Maybe we should make time to go visit. Even though it’s a fake marriage, I don’t want his family to feel snubbed. It’s already bad enough Devlin’s going to lie to them for me…
Hmm. This is getting more complicated than I imagined. I blame Bruce for not showing up. I wouldn’t feel this bad if I’d at least paid for the service rendered.
“Hey, Dad,” Devlin says.
“Well, I found out about your damned wedding on Facebook.” The voice on the other end of the line is positively seething. “People were asking me about it, and I was caught unaware like an idiot! Just one more thing you’ve decided to spring on me. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Devlin looks up at the ceiling and shakes his head. “Fine, Dad, thanks! And how are you?”
“How am I? Is that a serious question?”
“Wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t curious.” Devlin sounds utterly calm, which seems to upset his dad more.
“Ever since that damned high school graduation, you’ve been doing everything in your power to embarrass the hell out of me! And you had the gall to ignore my calls!”
“Hey, that was only until two years ago. I started taking your calls again.” Devlin’s voice says, No harm, no foul.
I give him a questioning look. There must be a good story there.
“If you’d become a Harvard cardiologist like I wanted you to, I wouldn’t have had a heart attack two years ago!” Devlin’s dad screams.
Being a drummer in a rock band is about as far from being a doctor as you can get. But still… Devlin’s very successful in his chosen field. His dad should be proud.
“Come on, Dad. You know as well as I do that’s nonsense. Do you think me being a cardiologist is a get-out-of-jail-free card for heart attacks? For fuck’s sake, by that logic, I’m a rocker now—you should feel rock ’n’ roll in your blood!”
“You son of a bitch!”
My jaw drops. Wow. This is a kind of family drama I’ve only read about. Is this how he speaks to his son every time he’s upset?
Dev heaves a sigh. “Don’t insult Mom. She’s the one who married a son of a bitch.”
I cover my mouth. Holy shit. Devlin pulls no punches.
“You… You…” I’m pretty sure his dad’s pointing a shaking finger in rage, wherever he is. “Tell me you at least married a doctor!”
I raise my eyebrows at the tone. What, unless I’m a doctor, I’m unwanted? Would he be okay with just any doctor, though? Or does it have to be a Harvard cardiologist?
“She’s an artist, which requires quite a lot of training, along with some talent. You think it’s easy to draw a straight line without a ruler?” Devlin asks.
“You disrespectful shit! I knew it! You went and got someone your level. You could’ve done better!”
Should I point out I’m not a starving artist, but one of the rare few who actually makes enough to put a roof over her head?
Dev’s dad isn’t finished. “This girl you married… She’s going to be just like Amelie!”
Amelie?