“Well,” Hal said. “What do you do for a living to buy a place like this? And are you hiring?” I learned that Hal was the first to laugh at his own jokes and the loudest. It was like watching a sitcom with a laugh track. Any slight hint of humor set the man into a literal knee slapping laughing fit. The worst part was that he wanted to make eye contact with me while he laughed. I found myself forcing my lips into something like a smile while staring into Hal Rosenthal’s beady little blue eyes more times than I could count.
“Dad,” Kenzie said. “I told you. He writes books.”
I inwardly cringed. I still remembered the way my dad reacted the first time I’d told him what I was leaving the business world behind to do. He’d given me a look like I was lighting a medical license on fire to take up a fast-food job. For some reason, I expected Hal to react the same way.
Instead, his mouth formed a silent “O”. He stared at me that way, then turned his head to look at Harole, who was nodding knowingly. “She did tell us, dear. He’s a very famous author. Great book I heard. Now, I just read the summary,” she said, holding her palm toward me as an apology. “You’ll have to forgive me that. I have never been a big reader, but the summary was fantastic. One of the best I’ve read.”
“I’ll be damned!” Hal said. He was doing some weird half-sitting, half-standing move and shifting back and forth. The small man had an incredible amount of energy. I could see after meeting him that Kenzie had only inherited half of his energy, and I’d considered her exhaustingly upbeat. “A real author? Holy cow,” he looked around the house again, as if he had to take it all in with a new perspective. “You know,” he said, sitting and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “I always thought I would write a book one day. Something autobibliography.”
“Autobiographic, dear,” Harole said without taking her eyes from the socks she was knitting.
“Right,” Hal said quickly. “But you know I realized I’m a shit writer! I’ve always respected the hell out of Kenzie for having the balls—pardon my French—to chase after writing a book. I know I couldn’t see it through. And you must be some writer to have built all this.”
I found myself smiling. “It’s good you're proud of your daughter,” I said. “Not every parent is supportive of every dream.”
Harole muttered “amen,” and rocked back and forth with the force of her nodding head.
“Dinner is ready,” Jasper said.
Hal popped up from the couch like someone had lit a firecracker under his ass. “Holy shit. A butler? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
37
Kenzie
It was late in the evening by the time my parents finally took the hint and headed to their car. I had a feeling my dad was in love with Sebastian’s house. He seemed to have a special fondness for Jasper, who he insisted on making sit with us while we ate dinner. Jasper looked pleasantly amused by the whole thing and played along.
Sebastian was his usual icy self, but little by little, I could see my parents winning him over. He even endured one of my mom’s weird extra-long hugs. She treated it like a kind of game of chicken to see who would break the hug last, and Sebastian hadn’t known the rules so he just stood there for at least a minute before awkwardly patting her on the back and prying her from him.
We closed the front door and Sebastian let out a long breath. “That was interesting.”
“Sorry, I know they are a little bit much.”
“Don’t apologize. I liked them.”
I dipped my chin, raising my eyebrows. “You liked people? Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”
He grinned. “Your dad supports you and your mom is really sweet. You’re lucky to have them.”
“Well, I should be getting home.”
“You’re really planning on staying at your place still? I’d feel better if I could keep my eye on you, to be honest.”
“Pervert.”
He chuckled. “I want to make sure you and the baby are safe. I can do that better if you’re here.”
“Safe from what? Big, muscular men who want to take my clothes off? Because I’d argue I’ll be in less danger of that every time I take a step away from your house.”
“If you want to play the dating game, I should tell you I was hoping this date would end in a sleepover.”
“Is that right? Hmm. I don’t know, Sebastian. I’m not really that kind of girl.”
“Bullshit,” he said. He advanced on me with one confident step.
“I’m very pure,” I said, struggling to keep a straight face. “Sex on the first date? It’s unthinkable.”