Dad: Dinner at five? I’m making your favorite.
Me: Just the two of us?
Dad: Family dinner. I know things have been difficult lately with you and your stepbrothers. I think that’s me and Manda’s fault. We should be nurturing a healthy relationship between our children. As it stands, I think the boys feel threatened by you. I just want to fix it so we can all be happy.
I curse as I reread his text. I do not want to have dinner with the stepmonsters and their wicked mother.
Me: They assaulted me, Dad.
The dots move and stop several times before he finally replies.
Dad: I know, honey, and I’m so sorry. I came down on them hard for it too. Threatened them within an inch of their lives. It caused a rift between me and Manda. Admittedly, I was ready to kill them. They know they’re on thin ice.
A smile tugs at my lips as I imagine Dad bitching them out.
Me: Fine, but as soon as dinner is over, I’m going back to Winston’s.
Or my apartment. Because I have one of those now. A safe place to go if everything goes to hell. I’ll never admit it to Winston, but I am sort of thankful to have it, even if I never go there. Just the fact that I could if I wanted to is enough.
Dad: I just miss you, but I know you’re growing up. One day I’ll blink and you’ll be married with a family of your own. Probably with that Constantine since he’s so adamant about spoiling you every chance he gets.
Don’t I wish. It’s going to take a hell of a lot of convincing to get Winston even on the same page as being my boyfriend. I can see through his teasing. I’m not really his—not how I want to be.
Me: He’s my employer. Don’t start planning a wedding yet.
Dad: He’s more than that and we all know it. Be careful with him, honey. A man like him could destroy the heart of a girl like you.
Too late.
My heart is in Winston’s hands, and he’ll be the ultimate decider on what happens to it.
Me: See you at five.
I walk into the brownstone, my armor on and bitchy attitude in place. The triplets will want me cowering, but I refuse to let them see me afraid. Dad and Manda will be here so it’s not like they’ll do anything. If this had happened to Winston, he sure as hell wouldn’t hide from them. He’d face them head on and look them in the eyes.
I’ll get them back eventually.
“In here, sweetheart,” Dad calls from the kitchen.
I follow my nose to where he’s standing at the stove, stirring his homemade Alfredo sauce. It reminds me of when I was a girl and Mom would be standing beside him, teasing him about the only meal he could cook. I’d giggle and tell her that he could make frozen waffles too, which, looking back, didn’t really help his case.
God, I miss her.
I hug Dad from behind, resting my cheek on his solid back. He’s not a beast of power like Winston, but he’s steady and solid, powerful in his own right. There’s something to be said about the strength of a father. Knowing he chewed out the triplets has me relaxing.
“Smells good. But can it possibly be as good as your frozen waffles?” I tease, smiling when he chuckles.
“There’s no comparison to my frozen waffles. Why don’t you grab the stuff to make a salad?”
I release him to busy myself pulling out the ingredients. For a moment, I can almost pretend it’s just the two of us back in our old apartment. Sometime after Mom and before Manda. When we were each other’s entire world. He whistles a familiar tune while I cut tomatoes for the salad.
“Smells delicious,” Manda says, entering the kitchen and cooling it several degrees. “Hello, Ash.”
I give her a wave with the knife in my hand, not meeting her hard stare. The sloppy sounds of their kissing kill any happy moments I’d enjoyed a few seconds before.
“Will the boys be joining us?” Dad asks, his voice low and tight with tension.
“Yes. Just as we discussed. This dinner is important.” She sighs and then pats me on the back. “Everything will work out just fine, right, sweetie?”
I cringe at the endearment but manage to nod my head. Dad seems hellbent on making things right in this family, so I won’t argue. I doubt either Dad or Manda can convince the Terror Triplets to stop being psychos, but I suppose it’s worth a try.
“Hey, sis,” a deep voice booms.
Swiveling around, I glare at the new arrival. Sully. The nicest of the three, but not by much. His dark brow lifts at the sight of the knife in my hand.
“Don’t stab me.” He grins, playful and charming, as though he and his brothers didn’t cut my dress from my body and rob me blind.