“About Amanda?” Harris insists, wiggling his eyebrows at me. “Shouldn’t have started with the nickname, man.”

My lips purse. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“You know our dad’s old-school,” says Harris. “You have to get his approval if you want my sister to marry you. That’s how she’s gonna want it done.”

“I didn’t come up here to discuss this with you,” I say, perhaps a little more tartly than needed. I can’t help it. Thisisn’ta conversation that I was expecting to have today.

Harris doesn’t look offended. “I mean, yeah, you weren’t. But who else are you going to have it with? Amanda’s too nervous to tell him and, uh, you know. My guess is that kind of limits the people you talk to.”

Dryly, I ask, “Do you think your father is my only friend?”

Harris says, “I think you spend all your time working or with my sister, so.” There’s a pause, followed by a crooked grin flashed at me. His hair is getting a little too long, and his bangs are hanging down in front of his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m pretty sure he’s your only friend.”

That’s not true, but only by a margin. I’m fairly certain that Kurt has forgiven me for getting so testy with him last week. But… My friendship with Kurt has never actually reached outside of the hospital itself. So maybe I shouldn’t count that.

Still, I’m not going to admit my lack of social life to Harris of all people. “It’s not my place to say anything to Lawrence. If Amanda wants to tell him, she will.”

Harris rolls his eyes. “You actually think she’s going to do that?”

No. I don’t.

“I mean, youareplanning on getting hitched, right?” Harris asks.

It’s crossed my mind once or twice. We haven’t spoken about it in depth, but I do know from her passing comments that she’s very worried about what her father is going to think of things. “I wouldliketo marry her. Yes.”

Harris says, “Then you should ask Dad. And hey, today’s a great time for it.” Another crooked grin. “When is he going to be in a better mood than this?”

Harris does have a point, though I’m also very much done with having this conversation with him. I change the subject back to the messages he's been sending, make sure he doesn’t need anything run into his room, and then head back down the hall. Amanda is in the kitchen with her mother, and Lawrence is on the couch.

He does look happier than I’ve seen him, well, ever. And Idowant to marry Amanda.

Lawrence isn’t the only one that’s old-school, either. I’ve got a certain love for tradition and it’s that need to do things correctly that has me drifting over to Lawrence and sitting down next to him on the couch.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” I say.

Lawrence sets his glass down and nods at me. “Shoot your shot.”

“Lawrence.” I take a breath, and then say, as pleasantly and softly as I can manage, “You know how much I admire your daughter. The work that she does at the hospital is incredible.”

Lawrence asks, “Why do I feel like this is about to be followed up with a but?”

“It’s not,” I insist. “That’s it. She’s incredible. Smart. Talented. A beautiful, young woman.”

Lawrence’s eyes narrow. “Jackson.”

“And we’ve been spending a lot of time together,” I continue, unwavering. “And I know that this seems sudden to you, but rest assured, it’s not. It’s been a long time coming.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I want to marry Amanda,” I say, honestly. “But I want to know that you approve of it first.”

There’s a long stretch of silence where Lawrence just stares at me. I can see the storm clouds brewing behind his eyes. Then, he’s up on his feet, voice raised, “What thefuck, Jackson!”

I stand up too. The shouting draws Amanda from the kitchen. “What’s going on?”

“Lawrence,” I start, trying to calm him down.

Lawrence isn’t listening. He continues, “You’re twice her fucking age!”