Page 3 of Stepping Up

“Sounds like a lot to me,” I told her as I backed into a spot and put the car into park. “Alright, baby, are you excited to give Grammy a big hug?”

Ella’s enthusiasm followed us all the way into the airport, where we found Mom’s baggage claim carousel and looked around for her. Since we were a little late getting in, you’d think I would be able to spot her immediately, or even notice her anxiously tapping her foot outside the terminal doors. But no, my mother made “fashionably late” into a personality trait. I started to heave a great sigh when Ella called out, “There’s Grammy!”

I looked in the direction her tiny finger pointed and saw my mom, freshly tanned and grinning like she had a wicked secret, waving at us from a few yards away. I didn’t immediately notice the man lurking behind her, though.

It wasn’t until she was right in front of us, pulling both Ella and me into a warm, three-generation group hug, that I realized the man hadn’t been just another random airport passenger walking in the same direction coincidentally. I pulled back from my mom’s sunscreen and salt air scent to aim a skeptical eyebrow at the tall man.

“Can we help you?” I asked the handsome older gentleman, whose eyes glittered as he smiled softly at me.

“Carly, baby,” Mom started, pulling back from the group hug to just hold me at arm’s length. Her grip was tight, but in the way that said calming pressure, the way she’d always hold me when I was worried about something as a kid and she wanted me to know it would be all right. “This is Dwight. He’s with me.”

I blinked at her a few times. “I don’t understand,” I said quietly. Then, from my side, Ella spoke up.

“Hi, Dwight. I like your mustache,” she said bluntly, and the mustachioed gentleman let out a delighted laugh.

“Thanks very much, little miss. I’m a big fan of your light-up sneakers.”

I knew my little girl was beaming even though I couldn’t take my eyes off my mother. A sick sort of dread was sinking into the pit of my stomach.

“I like Dwight, Grammy. Is he helping you with your bags?” Ella asked.

“No, hon,” my mother said with a twitching sort of smile. She met my eyes with a hesitant vibe I’d seen her exude many times before—the last time was probably the night she told me she was going on a weeks-long singles’ cruise. “Ella, Carly, meet your new step-grandpa and stepdad. Dwight and I got married!”

She held up her left hand to flash a huge, glinting diamond ring.

Well, that was certainly a surprise.

2

LOGAN

“Married?” I repeated incredulously into my phone. Since I was tucked away in my private office at the back of my restaurant, I didn’t bother trying to keep my voice down. My dad was on the other line, and my slow-boiling anger only ramped up as he replied. There was absolutely no shame in his voice.

“Yes, Logan. Married. You have a new stepmother, and I’d like it if you would try to be happy for me. You know how much I care about this family.”

Christ. I didn’t like the sound of this guilt trip, and I certainly didn’t like the idea of a stepmother. I was thirty-five years old, for fuck’s sake, and I hadn’t had a mother for most of my life. Besides that, this was a big change. Despite several dynamic-shifting changes in my youth that resulted in my two foster brothers, our family hadn’t changed in over a decade, and I was pretty happy with how it had always been.

“Dad, you know I love you, and of course I want you to be happy. But you met this woman a few weeks ago on a cruise, for Christ’s sake. What do you even know about her?”

“Her name is Jodie,” he answered easily. “She has a daughter who’s a bit younger than you, and a granddaughter she helps to take care of. She’s a bit younger than me, but still age appropriate. And I know that she makes me happier than I’ve been since we lost your mom.”

That knocked all the wind out of my sails, the air out of my lungs.

“I… I want to be supportive here, Dad,” I said, and it was true despite the frustrated tone I couldn’t shake, “but you have to admit that this is… out of character.” That was an understatement if I ever heard one. Dwight McDonald may be a dreamer, idealistic to the end, but he’d always been sensible, too. Sensible people didn’t turn their impromptu vacations into spur of the moment weddings.

At least it was an efficient way to get the ceremony and honeymoon all knocked out at once.

Still, the angry part of me, the side I usually reserved for dealing with incompetent employees in my work, wanted to give my dad the tough love he seemed to be lacking right now. Dad was well-off and surprisingly trusting despite the number of people who had tried to take advantage of his money and generosity over the years. It took all of my well-honed self-discipline to keep myself from yelling, Open your eyes, old man! This woman is probably just a gold digger!

Despite Dad’s best efforts, I’d never quite developed his ability to see the best in everyone. People had to prove themselves to me before I’d give them a shot. And often, they fell short.

Right then, someone who had proven himself to me again and again stuck his stupid, handsome head into the office door. Nate Young was my longtime best friend and foster brother well before he became my business partner and the head chef of my restaurant, Forge. He grinned, his prominent canines flashing in the fluorescent light, when I put the phone on speaker and mouthed to him, It’s Dad. Nate looked intrigued.

“I just need you to trust me. I don’t need you to be excited for me yet,” Dad said. “I know you’re a tough nut to crack, Son.”

Nate snorted.

“Is Nate there?” Dad asked, and Nate mimed zipping his lips.

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