Rock Me
Page 64
“True,” Evan said. “You have to predict and examine and understand every argument the other side is going to throw at you. It’s not about being the one who’s right. It’s about showing them why they’re wrong, and in your case, it’s not even that black and white. But that’s how you win.”
Brian gave in and nursed his coffee, craving some revitalization. Evan was watching him carefully. Kelsey glanced at her husband, looking troubled, before turning back to Brian.
“What you need is sleep, honey, not caffeine. Why don’t you stay here tonight? I don’t want you out driving in the shape you’re in.”
“Not like I’m drunk,” he muttered.
“Maybe not on alcohol.”
“I think you should stay too,” Evan said. “In the morning when we’re all rested, we’ll figure this out.”
Baby Alex took that moment to cry out from his crib in their bedroom. Kelsey laughed as she got up from the table. “When you’re rested, anyway,” she said to Brian. “No rest for us.”
“I couldn’t sleep if I wanted to. I can stay up with him, if you guys are tired.” Both of them stared in astonishment. “What? Just give him his bottle and sit watching metal videos with him until he goes back to sleep, right? How hard can it be?”
“Oh, dear God,” Evan groaned. “You really have no idea.”
Chapter Twenty-two
“Candy, I really think it would do you good to get out for a while. You haven’t been over in days. Won’t you at least consider it? No one’s asking you to marry him.”
Candace listened to her mom go on and on about some guy they wanted her to meet at dinner tonight and resisted the urge to facepalm. And to cry while doing it. She’d shed enough tears after seeing Brian the other night that she should still be dehydrated. Macy had held her for damn near an hour in her car after that episode while she made herself sick on sobs. Then Sam had joined them at her apartment and they’d all ended up tearful messes for one reason or another. Crazy. Their cycles must be synced or something.
But thank God for her friends. She would be totally lost without them.
“I’m not ready, Mom.” And if there was still a chance with Brian—someday—how could she jeopardize it by even meeting this person her mom was going on about?
It didn’t really matter, her mind returned. It wasn’t as if she could ever feel that way about anyone else again. She was ruined.
“All I’m asking you to do is come to dinner,” Sylvia said. “No harm in that, is there? He’s just a guest. It’s not a set-up.”
“I might come to dinner, but it’s not to meet him. And you’d better not give him that impression, or I swear I’ll leave.” It was getting easier and easier to stand up to her mother on these matters.
“Fine,” Sylvia said. “I’m glad you’re coming.”
She was so not up to this. The prospect of finding someone new to date did not even register on her map, but she didn’t even feel like socializing, especially with a stranger. Going through the same old conversation, answering the same old mundane questions: “What’s your major? How much longer do you have? What do you want to be when you grow up?”
The thought was nearly unbearable. She’d had a promising job interview with the town newspaper today—maybe she’d change her major again to journalism, really freak the parents out—and while exciting, it had drained her. She wanted to lounge in front of the TV in her PJs the rest of the evening, but she’d been doing way too much of that lately.
Pulling up a couple of hours later to her parents’ house in an impressive area of town known as the Heights—where Brian’s mom and dad also lived—she was tempted to drive on around the circular driveway and go back home. There was no unfamiliar vehicle parked anywhere in sight, so maybe the guy wasn’t coming. Whoever he was. She hadn’t even thought to ask, to see if she might know him, but then that was how little she cared.
She hadn’t put much effort in her physical appearance, wearing her hair down over a simple peach blouse and black slacks, but her mom didn’t even lift an eyebrow as she bustled her in cheerfully.
The woman certainly seemed sure of herself over this one. It only made Candace more determined to fight all the harder. Whoever she ended up with, it could not be someone her parents chose. Even if she liked that person tremendously, she thought, there was no way she could give them the satisfaction over that. Maybe she was being irrational, but she didn’t care. One thing she could never forgive them for was their interference with her and Brian. Her love life was off limits, the one area she couldn’t let them control.
“I don’t think he’s coming,” she commented rather smugly as they were seated at the dining table. Ha! Trying to set her up with a no-show. He’d probably stand her up if they ever made a date. Which they wouldn’t.
“Oh, he isn’t going to be here until seven,” her mother said.
Candace checked her watch. It was ten till. Her dad sipped from his wine glass and smiled at her. Phillip Andrews cracking a smile just because was the equivalent of hearing a chorus of angels singing from heaven, or something. It just didn’t happen.
Candace returned it and then frowned as she brought her own glass to her lips. The doorbell chimed. Despite herself, she jumped. Everyone was acting too frigging weird.
“I’ll get it,” Sylvia declared, jumping up from her seat and gliding smoothly from the room.
“What’s with her?” Candace asked her dad, leaning toward him and keeping her voice low.
Phillip made every effort to look as if he didn’t know what she was talking about. It was pretty pathetic. “How do you mean?”
“I mean, I don’t think I’ve seen her this chipper in—”
Her voice simply failed, along with much of her vital functions—heart stopping, breath seizing up, brainwaves crashing—as a low male laugh sounded from the foyer. But its incredible sexiness wasn’t the only reason she nearly expired right there in her chair, still staring wide-eyed at her dad who was now grinning like a fool.
It was because she recognized that laugh. Because she’d heard it so many times. In her dreams. In his arms.
With a sound akin to a sob, she rose out of her seat, pulled toward that voice by a force as natural and irresistible as the gravity that kept her feet on the ground. Never mind the fact that she felt as if clouds were beneath her every step.
She flew around the end of the dining table as he came in—him, Brian, he was here, in her parents’ house!—and went straight into his arms without checking her speed. He caught her as surely as she’d known he would, arms tight and protective around her, promising with the strength of their hold to never let her go again. One hand sank into her hair, fisting it, holding her head against his chest.
And she wanted to laugh, because he was dressed much as she’d seen him that first night in his parlor when she’d lamented that he probably had a date later. Covered nearly from neck to feet, missing his visible piercings. Although she’d lay bets her favorite one was still in place, and the naughty thought sent a burning flush up her cheeks.
She didn’t open her eyes until she was quite sure she’d gotten a handle on all the emotions that threatened to fly out of her. Her parents had settled back at the table.
Brian gave in and nursed his coffee, craving some revitalization. Evan was watching him carefully. Kelsey glanced at her husband, looking troubled, before turning back to Brian.
“What you need is sleep, honey, not caffeine. Why don’t you stay here tonight? I don’t want you out driving in the shape you’re in.”
“Not like I’m drunk,” he muttered.
“Maybe not on alcohol.”
“I think you should stay too,” Evan said. “In the morning when we’re all rested, we’ll figure this out.”
Baby Alex took that moment to cry out from his crib in their bedroom. Kelsey laughed as she got up from the table. “When you’re rested, anyway,” she said to Brian. “No rest for us.”
“I couldn’t sleep if I wanted to. I can stay up with him, if you guys are tired.” Both of them stared in astonishment. “What? Just give him his bottle and sit watching metal videos with him until he goes back to sleep, right? How hard can it be?”
“Oh, dear God,” Evan groaned. “You really have no idea.”
Chapter Twenty-two
“Candy, I really think it would do you good to get out for a while. You haven’t been over in days. Won’t you at least consider it? No one’s asking you to marry him.”
Candace listened to her mom go on and on about some guy they wanted her to meet at dinner tonight and resisted the urge to facepalm. And to cry while doing it. She’d shed enough tears after seeing Brian the other night that she should still be dehydrated. Macy had held her for damn near an hour in her car after that episode while she made herself sick on sobs. Then Sam had joined them at her apartment and they’d all ended up tearful messes for one reason or another. Crazy. Their cycles must be synced or something.
But thank God for her friends. She would be totally lost without them.
“I’m not ready, Mom.” And if there was still a chance with Brian—someday—how could she jeopardize it by even meeting this person her mom was going on about?
It didn’t really matter, her mind returned. It wasn’t as if she could ever feel that way about anyone else again. She was ruined.
“All I’m asking you to do is come to dinner,” Sylvia said. “No harm in that, is there? He’s just a guest. It’s not a set-up.”
“I might come to dinner, but it’s not to meet him. And you’d better not give him that impression, or I swear I’ll leave.” It was getting easier and easier to stand up to her mother on these matters.
“Fine,” Sylvia said. “I’m glad you’re coming.”
She was so not up to this. The prospect of finding someone new to date did not even register on her map, but she didn’t even feel like socializing, especially with a stranger. Going through the same old conversation, answering the same old mundane questions: “What’s your major? How much longer do you have? What do you want to be when you grow up?”
The thought was nearly unbearable. She’d had a promising job interview with the town newspaper today—maybe she’d change her major again to journalism, really freak the parents out—and while exciting, it had drained her. She wanted to lounge in front of the TV in her PJs the rest of the evening, but she’d been doing way too much of that lately.
Pulling up a couple of hours later to her parents’ house in an impressive area of town known as the Heights—where Brian’s mom and dad also lived—she was tempted to drive on around the circular driveway and go back home. There was no unfamiliar vehicle parked anywhere in sight, so maybe the guy wasn’t coming. Whoever he was. She hadn’t even thought to ask, to see if she might know him, but then that was how little she cared.
She hadn’t put much effort in her physical appearance, wearing her hair down over a simple peach blouse and black slacks, but her mom didn’t even lift an eyebrow as she bustled her in cheerfully.
The woman certainly seemed sure of herself over this one. It only made Candace more determined to fight all the harder. Whoever she ended up with, it could not be someone her parents chose. Even if she liked that person tremendously, she thought, there was no way she could give them the satisfaction over that. Maybe she was being irrational, but she didn’t care. One thing she could never forgive them for was their interference with her and Brian. Her love life was off limits, the one area she couldn’t let them control.
“I don’t think he’s coming,” she commented rather smugly as they were seated at the dining table. Ha! Trying to set her up with a no-show. He’d probably stand her up if they ever made a date. Which they wouldn’t.
“Oh, he isn’t going to be here until seven,” her mother said.
Candace checked her watch. It was ten till. Her dad sipped from his wine glass and smiled at her. Phillip Andrews cracking a smile just because was the equivalent of hearing a chorus of angels singing from heaven, or something. It just didn’t happen.
Candace returned it and then frowned as she brought her own glass to her lips. The doorbell chimed. Despite herself, she jumped. Everyone was acting too frigging weird.
“I’ll get it,” Sylvia declared, jumping up from her seat and gliding smoothly from the room.
“What’s with her?” Candace asked her dad, leaning toward him and keeping her voice low.
Phillip made every effort to look as if he didn’t know what she was talking about. It was pretty pathetic. “How do you mean?”
“I mean, I don’t think I’ve seen her this chipper in—”
Her voice simply failed, along with much of her vital functions—heart stopping, breath seizing up, brainwaves crashing—as a low male laugh sounded from the foyer. But its incredible sexiness wasn’t the only reason she nearly expired right there in her chair, still staring wide-eyed at her dad who was now grinning like a fool.
It was because she recognized that laugh. Because she’d heard it so many times. In her dreams. In his arms.
With a sound akin to a sob, she rose out of her seat, pulled toward that voice by a force as natural and irresistible as the gravity that kept her feet on the ground. Never mind the fact that she felt as if clouds were beneath her every step.
She flew around the end of the dining table as he came in—him, Brian, he was here, in her parents’ house!—and went straight into his arms without checking her speed. He caught her as surely as she’d known he would, arms tight and protective around her, promising with the strength of their hold to never let her go again. One hand sank into her hair, fisting it, holding her head against his chest.
And she wanted to laugh, because he was dressed much as she’d seen him that first night in his parlor when she’d lamented that he probably had a date later. Covered nearly from neck to feet, missing his visible piercings. Although she’d lay bets her favorite one was still in place, and the naughty thought sent a burning flush up her cheeks.
She didn’t open her eyes until she was quite sure she’d gotten a handle on all the emotions that threatened to fly out of her. Her parents had settled back at the table.
