Page 95 of Obey

But if they say one thing, one fucking thing to my woman about, well, anything I don’t like the sound of, I don’t give a fuck how good her pancakes are, she’s out on her ass.

No questions asked.

The air is tight with tension as we eat in silence. Awkwardness pools in the space around us, and I’m not sure I have anything in my bank of small talk to make this moment any less weird.

“So.” Talia’s mom dabs at her mouth with a napkin before dropping it into her lap. “You’re clearly sleeping together now.”

Talia’s dad gags on a mouthful of chicken, Talia’s face goes so red I’m not sure she has any blood left anywhere else in herbody, and I’m not sure where this woman is going with this. Her tone isn’t judgy, more curious I’d say.

“Mama.” Talia’s fork is paused on the way to her mouth, a thick glob of maple syrup drips off and onto her chest. I collect it with my thumb, then hold it out for her to lick off. She doesn’t hesitate.

“What?” Her mom shrugs. “I’m just making conversation.”

Is she really that clueless? I doubt it.

“Mrs. Uh.” Oh fuck. I’m drawing a blank.

The Mother, who I now realize I know neither her first nor do I remember her last name, casts her attention across the table to me. “Barclay.”

“Mrs. Barclay.” I’m not easily intimidated. Plenty of uppity pricks come into my shop all the time. These rich people don’t scare me. But things with Talia are new and scary in and of themselves, and I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want for us to kindle this special thing between us only to have it snuffed out by her douchey parents.

Except Talia doesn’t look scared, she’s not pale, or shrinking into herself. She sits tall, her shoulders relaxed and back, her head high as she dunks her waffle into the swimming pool of maple syrup on her plate. How her food hasn’t started floating is anyone’s guess.

“This isn’t what I envisioned for you, Talia.” Mrs. Barclay—since she hasn’t given me her first name, or permission to call her anything other than what she said—picks up her coffee but doesn’t drink from the cup. “I admit, I had hoped you and Harry would resolve your differences, but after learning the extent of his betrayal and personality flaws, I’m very glad you decided not to marry that low-life.” She spits the last words like they taste rotten on her tongue before flicking her hard stare to me.

“I don’t know you Jagger. I don’t know your last name or anything about you. And I’ll admit, my prejudices about yourprofession.” She sweeps a hand at me. “And your tattoos gave me pause.”

Talia gasps when Mrs. Barclay mentions she doesn’t know my last name, like it just hit her like a lightning bolt that she doesn’t know either. She does, but I guess she doesn’t remember. “Coleman.” My whisper is to reassure her, but the amused twitch on her mom’s lips tells me she heard.

“I admit it. I saw a man of your size, covered in tattoos and grease stains, and I immediately jumped to you not being good enough for my daughter.”

Talia opens her mouth to protest.

“Let me finish, honey. Then you can yell at me if you need to.” She finally sips her coffee. “I was wrong. I should know by now not to judge a book by its cover. I was worried about Talia, and how her behavior had shifted, how she was lashing out, changing her hair, her life plan, her partner all in one go. But the more I talk to her, the more I see her, the more I see I missed how unhappy she had become, how different she was.”

Talia’s trembling beside me, so I take her hand and squeeze it. I’m right here, silently giving her whatever strength she needs.

“I’m a big enough woman to be able to say when I’m wrong. And I was wrong to judge you without so much as getting to know you. I’d like to start over.” She turns her attention to Talia. “With both of you.”

Talia’s jaw is hanging wide open like the pantry door, tears slowly meandering down her cheeks.

“Seeing you here, honey, you’ve changed. And I don’t mean the wild hair. The way you hold yourself, the color in your cheeks, the way your eyes sparkle. All small changes I didn’t see happening over the years until I was faced with this daughter bursting with sunshine I didn’t recognize. I’m sorry for letting you down.”

Her dad shifts in his seat with a nod.

“I know we made mistakes when it came to Harry and how we wanted your future to go, but your father and I have been talking, and we’re both ready to support you in your endeavors, wherever they may take you.”

Talia’s mouth is wide open, so I nudge her body with mine. “You’re catching mosquitoes, baby girl.”

Her dad laughs. “Kevin.” He extends his hand to me, and after staring at it for a beat slightly too long, I accept it in a handshake.

“Jagger. And it’s a pleasure sir. I’m sure it goes without saying but I’m somewhat smitten with your daughter.”

A squeak falls from my chatterbox’s open mouth. “Smitten?” She swings to me. “You don’t use words like smitten.”

She’s right, it’s not normally in my vocabulary, but I’m trying to make up for the fact I only put pants on, and her mom is still at eye-level with my nipples.

Talia’s face breaks out into a soul-touching smile before she reaches out both hands and pinches my cheeks. “Wait.” She gasps. “My grumpasaurus is smitten for lil ole me? Whoda’thunk it when just a couple weeks ago you wanted to throw me out of a plane from thirty thousand feet?”

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