Page 77 of The Relationship Clause

Owen leans away from me to tap the shoulder of the woman beside him. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but it looks like he asks her one simple question, and the woman starts unloading on him. It takes a bit before he turns back to me.

“Linda’s daughter is Breanna Scheuler.”

“Breanna?” I can picture Breanna immediately. She works in our IT department, and now that I think about it, it’s a wonder I didn’t peg her as Linda’s daughter right away. I can definitely see the resemblance. “She wasn’t one of the people we originally suspected. Do you think it could be a coincidence?”

Owen doesn’t answer right away. “It might, but the way Linda keeps looking at us makes me think otherwise.”

I chance a look at Linda and immediately regret it. She’s glaring at me like I killed her puppy. Almost as soon as we make eye contact though, she turns her whole body away from me and toward her husband.

“Could she be in on it?” I whisper.

“I don’t know.”

“Is there any way we can find out for sure?”

Owen removes his arm from around my shoulders and pinches the bridge of his nose, thinking. “I’ll see if I can get Craig to tell me.”

“How?”

“By getting him drunk.”

“What? Owen, I don’t know if—”

“No, sorry. I didn’t mean I would be the one getting him drunk. He’ll get himself drunk. Every year after the big fancy dinner my dad puts on, he and ‘the boys’ head to the bar for more drinking and catching up. I usually avoid that scene at all costs, but this time, I’ll go and see if I can get any information out of Craig while he’s liquored up.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I glance over at Craig, who also doesn’t look too happy. “What if he’s in on whatever’s going on too?”

Owen shakes his head. “That’s what I’m worried about. Craig’s known my dad for over twenty years, but they had a falling out last year over some business thing. I thought they worked it out, but… We better just see what we can find out before we make any accusations.”

“Okay.”

The waiter comes at that moment and takes orders, and then Owen and I don’t get much of a chance to talk since everyone at the table starts grilling us about how we met, how long we’ve been going out, and other equally boring and uncomfortable questions.

I wish the topic of conversation would switch to anything else until Fred starts to talk about his favorite sales stories. They’re a little cringe-worthy to listen to, to be honest. He brags about how the company or individual he was trying to sell to had absolutely no intention of buying his product, but then, thanks to Fred’s scare tactics or some schmoozing, he convinced them to buy anyway.

After each story, Fred throws up his hand and taps on his empty glass, which is promptly refilled. It’s obviously unpleasant for Owen too, as he looks about ready to jump across the table and strangle his dad at any second. We’re both hanging on to this night for dear life, waiting for it to be over. Through drinks, appetizers, and the main course, it’s like The Fred Show as he regales us with one story after another, his little work buddies hanging on to every word.

How could they possibly plan on going out to drink more after this?

I am way past sick of it, so when my phone rings toward the end of the meal, I jump at the chance to escape the table, especially because it’s from the only other person I care to hear from right now besides Kiera.

“Hi, Dad,” I say, walking through the restaurant for a little privacy. The fact that he called me adds a little bit of cheer into my mood. His call could not have been better timed.

“Hey, Junebug. It’s good to hear your voice.”

“It’s good to hear yours too. I’d kind of rather see your face though, to be honest.”

When Dad speaks again, I hear the smile in his words. “That’s exactly why I’m calling. You gonna be in town on Monday?”

“Wait, what? Seriously? I thought you weren’t going to be back for another week?”

“That was the plan, but things change. How about we meet at our usual spot for lunch? One o’clock work for you?”

“I think I can swing it.”

Normally, I take my lunch break a little earlier than that, but Owen won’t mind if I—

My thoughts stall.

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