Page 45 of Six Month Wife

I bristle. “It was a pitch for student-friendly transportation, not a start-up.”

“Exactly.” He smiles like he’s proved something. “You jump headfirst and think about consequences later. I hope this doesn’t end the same way.”

The implication sinks in. It isn't loud or sharp, quiet erosion. It's my father's superpower.

“We’re fine,” I say.

He leans back, satisfied. “Of course you are. I’d hate to see all of this, you know, unravel. Especially so close to the finish line.”

He lets the words sit there. He's not leveling accusations, or even any questions about the validity of it. But he injects enough doubt to make it seem like I need him to pull this off.

I set my water bottle down harder than I mean to. “I don’t need you micromanaging this, Dad.”

“It’s not micromanaging. It’s professional concern,” he says, light but sharp. “This is what I do for a living. Let me help you."

“Look, I appreciate the concern,” I say tightly, “but I don’t need you dropping in to do anything here. Once we meet with the estate manager, we should be done. Adair and I are showing him around the island, and then he heads back to Vermont. Anti-climactic, fine, we're good.”

Leeland raises an eyebrow, hands lifted like I’ve accused him of something serious. “Don't cut your nose off to spite your face, son.”

God, I wish I had the strength to punch him in hissmug face. I want him to leave. He pauses. Clears his throat.

“Adair. That's a cool name. Tell me about her.”

Typical. He pushes me to rage and then pulls back before we go over that cliff. “She’s great. Smart. Ambitious. Independent.” I meet his eyes. “And not your concern.”

“Relax, Parker,” he says with a tight smile. “I’m curious. I want to know my son's wife. That's the real reason I came, after all. To welcome her into the family.”

Uh-huh. Sure.

“She's very busy. I'm not sure we can make that happen, with so little notice, and all."

I think about the fact that I haven't seen or talked to her all day, nor do I even know where she is. My dad will sniff that out in a minute if I let him get too close.

His eyes gleam like a dog that heard the treat jar. “Oh, she can't be tied up twenty-four seven.”

“No, you're right. But I know she's tied up the rest of the day and tonight.”

He stands up, like he’s heard everything he needs. “Then I'll stay as long as I need to, so I don't interrupt her complicated schedule. Maybe that will allow me to meet with the estate manager with you. I want to get a better sense of how everything’s going.”

He knows exactly how to manipulate things. He said that precisely to get his way because he knows the last thing I want is for him to be at the meeting with us.

I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Please don’t. The last thing any of us needs is you hovering over this.”

“Hovering?” he repeats, all faux-offense. “I’m here to support my favorite son.”

“I’m your only son.”

“Exactly.” He smiles. Then the smile fades, a little. “Which is why I’m not going to sit back and watch you lose everything over a poorly staged performance.”

A lump so large forms in my throat that it's almost hard to swallow.

“You almost sold it, Parker,” he adds, voice low and surgical. “But married in thirty days? No trail, no engagement, no whispers until now?”

He shakes his head. “I dismantled it in an hour.”

The silence stretches.

“Who knew you had it in you?” he says, smiling again. “Hell, maybe I’m not the only one in this family who deserves an Oscar.”