Page 40 of SCRUMptious

“Is that Cameron Scott?”

My dad accepted a couple of hors d’oeuvres from a passing waiter and handed meone.

I popped it in my mouth and chewed. “Yup,” I answered with an inward groan.

Even though my dad was a celebrity in his own right, he’d never quite gotten over being an Irish farm boy who’d hit the big time by kicking a ball around the pitch. He’d nearly pissed himself when he’d partied with Bono and The Edge back in the 1990s.

“I didn’t realize you knewhim.”

“I only met him a couple of weeks ago. Lauren’s known him for ages,” I answered, watching the easy way she interacted with the couple.

Lauren and Cameron had been friends since their days working for a catering company. She’d been in the kitchen, while he’d waited tables. They’d formed an instant bond through snark and humor, and to this day Lauren counted Cameron among her closest friends.

Shit, the man had been one of her bridesmaids!

Just then he said something that made Sarah laugh, and Lauren punched him in the shoulder. When he pulled Sarah and Lauren into a big group hug, I dragged my gaze away and found my dad eyeing my wife with renewed interest.

He hadn’t been thrilled when I’d told him I was getting married; even less so when he found out I was 10 years younger than Lauren. But when you combined her appearance on a TV show with her friendship with an Oscar-nominated actor, he was coming around to welcoming her into the family with openarms.

“She have any other famous friends?”

Ah, for fuck’ssake.

“Dad,” I answered with a warning growl

He held up his hands. “Sorry. I just keep forgetting she’s famous.”

I chuckled. “Don’t let Lauren hear you saythat.”

“It’s the truth. The sooner she accepts it, the easier it’ll be on her. On youboth.”

My father wasn’t wrong … much to Lauren’s chagrin.

A week after we’d returned from Ireland, Gavin Jones—Lauren’s former boss—published a tell-all book about the downward spiral that had culminated in his breakdown on live TV. The one where he’d called Lauren a cunt and told her she was the worst cook he’d evermet.

Naturally, I’d hated the fucker even before the book had come out, but now I really hated him. He’d devoted a whole chapter to the role his staff played in his fall from grace. He hadn’t mentioned Lauren by name, but people remembered the abuse she’d suffered at his hands from the four episodes of his cooking show that had aired the year before. And then, once the book hit TheNew York Times bestsellers list, Lauren’s phone exploded with daytime talk shows wanting her to come on and tell her side of the story. She’d declined, but privately we’d acknowledged that Gavin’s book was probably the reason she’d been invited to compete on Top Chef. At least there was a silver lining to the whole fucked up situation.

But I was done talking about my wife’s notoriety.

“Speaking of the truth, what were you saying before? Something about why you cheated on my mom for so many years?” I crossed my arms over my chest.

He blew out a breath and ran his hands through his hair, now liberally peppered with gray. My dad was still fairly young, but looking at him now, I could see the last couple of years of hard living had caught up withhim.

That’s what he gets for gallivanting around the globe with a woman young enough to be my sister.

The thing was, I didn’t dislike Stacia, but I couldn’t, for the life of me, understand what they talked about all day. She was gorgeous and sweet, but dumb as a bag of cans. Then again, if the black smudges under his eyes were any indication, they probably didn’t do a whole lot of talking. Or sleeping.

“You know your ma and I only got married because I knocked her up. What you may not understand is it’s a different world now than it was back in 1995, especially in Ireland. Back then, if you got a girl pregnant, you did the responsible thing. Especially when the girl’s father threatened to cut your balls off with a rusty cleaver.”

He chuckled and shook his head, a small, genuine smile splitting his lips. My grandfather had been a butcher, and from the day my dad had first darkened his doorstep, he’d threatened him with any number of creative maimings. Once, on Stephen’s Day, he’d promised to skin my da alive if he didn’t stop looking at his phone at the dinner table. Needless to say, there’d been no love lost between thetwo.

“Okay, so you only got married because she was pregnant with me. Fine. But that doesn’t explain why you got five other womenpregnanttoo.”

My dad’s eyes flashed and his head whipped around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. They weren’t—no one cared about the groom at these things. Nearly everyone was on the other side of the patio fawning over Lauren, staring at her ring and asking about her dress.

He stepped closer. “Listen, I’m going to tell you some things, and you might not believe them, but they’re the truth.”

I stared at him expectantly. This ought to be good, I thought, waiting for him to continue.

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