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I rolled my eyes at him but smiled none-the-less at his boyish enthusiasm over his set of wheels.

His smile faded as heavy footsteps drew closer.

“Tyler, I—”

There could be no mistaking that the man who entered the living room was Tyler’s dad. He looked like an older version of Tyler, maybe in his late fifties, with just a few more lines around the eyes and lips and a few strands of grey that looked like silver threads in his dark hair. He halted when he saw me, taking his time to study me. I supposed he had plenty of practice at that since he was a lawyer, always trying to see through any pretenses. I stood firm, refusing to let him intimidate me.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d brought company,” he said pointedly, still staring at me.

Tyler made the appropriate introductions.

“Miss Mitchell, a pleasure.” His answer was polite if a bit automatic. But I also thought I heard something else, relief maybe? It was my turn to try to read him. Maybe he had hidden fears about his wife’s interest in his son. Then again, maybe it was just my imagination, because John Cranston stood tall and strong in front of me, no sign of any distress from his previous health issues. Unlike my father, it seemed he didn’t shed his work persona at the door; he was still in a prosecuting mode, appearing ready to put me on the witness stand and assault me with questions. I was puzzled by his indifference to his son’s presence. Once again, I wanted to shelter Tyler from the people in this house and their lack of genuine caring and open affection.

“Mr. Cranston,” I stuck my hand out, “it’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry you weren’t made aware of the extra company tonight. I hope it isn’t too inconvenient. I’m sure it just slipped Natalie’s mind as it was a last minute invitation, and she was most insistent when she talked to Tyler yesterday that he come. Since we already had plans, Tyler graciously extended the invitation to me.”There. Take that testimony and shove it, Mr. D.A.

John’s eyes narrowed at me slightly, and I knew he caught on to my pointed comment. But he nodded his head and finally turned to greet his son. “Tyler. You’re looking well.”

“Thank you, Sir. You, too. Are you sticking to your diet and taking all your meds like you’re supposed to?”

Sir? Diet and meds?I was having a hard time with the stilted conversation between Tyler and his dad. First the stepmother who wanted to be all over Tyler, and now the father who wanted to keep him at a distance. It was so very different from my family who would have wrapped us both up in hugs, or at least a warm handshake and back slap by my dad for Tyler.

Natalie came in just then and greeted her husband, much less enthusiastically than she’d greeted Tyler, I noticed. After a chaste kiss on the cheek, she announced dinner was ready. We sat one on each side of the rectangular cherry table so that I looked across from Tyler. He caught my eye and smiled, and I found myself relaxing somewhat for the first time since we had arrived. Whatever else I may think about Natalie, I had to give her culinary skills credit. Her pork roast was juicy and tasteful, her mashed potatoes sinfully buttery, and she had a cream sauce to serve with the asparagus. Normally I wouldn’t touch the little green spears, but I didn’t want to give her any ammunition to hold against me, no matter how slight, so I took several pieces. She scolded her husband for his proportions, and it hit me that she’d prepared a meal without any consideration for his modified diet. Tyler noticed it also, but he was busy shoveling food into his mouth, I supposed because he just wanted the meal to end.

“So, Miss Mitchell—”

“Please, call me Jen.”

He nodded. “Jennifer,” his lifted eyebrow challenged me to correct him again, “How did you meet my son?”

“We work at the same hospital, but we met because Alex started dating my best friend, Kayla.”

“Oh, yes. And how is the happily married couple?”

“They’re doing extremely well, Dad,” Tyler answered his dad’s snide question. “I doubt they could be happier.”

His dad snorted but refrained from commenting.

“So does that mean you’re a doctor, too, Jennifer?” the inquisition continued.

I shook my head, and Natalie smirked. “No, I’m a respiratory therapist, but sometimes I’m rotated to the ER, so I’ve been fortunate enough to work with Tyler. He’s an amazing doctor, one of the best I’ve ever worked with.” Tyler smiled at my words

“Oh, so you’re not even a nurse, then?” Natalie smiled snidely behind her wine glass.

Tyler’s knuckles whitened around his fork as he lowered it to his plate. I spoke up hastily before he could interject. “No, I’m not a nurse. Quite honestly, I went to college to study art, but circumstances forced me to drop out, I needed a job, and at the time there was a desperate need for RTs. I applied for the program through the hospital that would pay for my training and supply me with a job upon completion. It isn’t what I thought I wanted to do, but I’m happy with my decision. I find it very rewarding in its own way.”

I had to force myself not to look down at my plate and keep them on Natalie. I wasn’t ashamed of my decisions, but I could feel Tyler’s eyes burning into me, as he learned this new piece of my puzzle.

“An artist?” John snorted. “Good lord.”

“Dad,” Tyler’s voice held a warning.

“Well, I find nursing to be so . . . so rewarding,” Natalie gushed. “You know, helping to save people’s lives and making a real difference.”

“Making sure the patient is capable of breathing is equal to that, Nat,” Tyler defended. “And you work in more of a, how shall I call it, therapeutic capacity? I’m not sure I’ve seen you saving any lives, lately.”

Grateful for Tyler’s comment, I also noted that John didn’t say anything to defend his wife. She apparently noticed, too, given the glare she aimed in his direction. He continued to ignore her.

“Tyler’s mother was an artist, a musician to be exact,” John suddenly stated. I looked at him in surprise. His fingers played with his cloth napkin distractedly. “Listening to her play was like listening to her bring notes on a page to life. It was more than just making pretty sounds; it was like actuallyexperiencingthem.” It reminded me of how Tyler described his mother. John spoke off-handedly, but we all stared at his end of the table, each mesmerized for our own reason by his description while he seemed lost in a moment long gone. Natalie sported a scowl. I studied him from under my lashes, amazed at the poetic tribute he’d just given to his first wife. I hadn’t thought the man had a romantic bone in his body, and judging from Tyler’s surprised expression, he thought the same. John shook his head, and the neutral mask was back in place.