Page 51 of One Night Only
Fully aware that I’m wearing a literal evening gown, my hair a nested mess, it’s abundantly clear what I’ve been doing all night, so I know I need to step in.
“Dad, this is Dallas Shaw,” I introduce. “Dallas, this is my father, Frank, and my mother, June.”
Mom practically swoons, fluffing her white-blonde hair with a flirty grin while Dad folds his arms across his chest, trying for the protective father figure-slash-retired New York City firefighter when, in actual fact, he’s the personification of a cuddly teddy bear.
I point to Bron standing awkwardly, holding the tree up while trying not to look as if it’s taking all she has not to burst into laughter. “That’s Bron, my sister-in-law.”
“Hey.” Bron waves, biting back a smirk.
“So, hockey, huh?” Dad pipes up again.
“Yes, sir.” Dallas nods.
“Not quite baseball, now, is it?” Dad looks him up and down.
“Uh, no, sir…?” Dallas scratches the back of his neck, clearly confused.
“So, what are your intentions here?” My father indicates me with a jut of his chin.
I’ve often wondered if all parents are this mortifying, or if I just happened to win some sort of “most embarrassing parent” lottery when they were assigning families at birth. I’d love to say the embarrassment is a result of their age and a side effect of theboredom caused by retirement, but honestly, my parents have been like this for as long as I can remember.
“Oh, wow!” I exclaim in a pathetic attempt at deflecting. “A Christmas tree!”
“Nice save,” Tess whispers from the corner of her mouth, stepping around me. “Yeah, it just arrived,” she announces, finally helping me to try shift the topic of conversation. “Actually, maybe Dallas can help us move it since Dad isn’t quite as strong as he used to be.”
Dad scoffs.
“Yes, with those big muscles, I’m sure Dallascanhelp,” Mom muses out loud.
I turn my head slowly to look at her, wondering if she meant to just say that out loud. Judging by the unperturbed look on her face, she either doesn’t realize she did, or she simply doesn’t care. Both of which are wildly inappropriate but also totally June Cole.
“No problem,” Dallas says, dusting his hands together. “Where do you want it?”
“Just in that corner, away from the fireplace,” Tess instructs.
With the utmost ease, Dallas bends at the knees and reaches in through the tied branches, grabbing the tree and carrying it as if it’s not a fully grown Pine. He places it into the corner and twists it back and forth to get the perfect angle.
Bron swoops in to move the floor lamp a touch, making more room for the monstrosity.
Mom continues outwardly swooning.
Dad watches on with an unreadable expression on his face.
Tess smirks, her gaze flitting to me like she knows exactly what I’m thinking.
I look at the clock on the mantle, wondering exactly how much longer until everyone leaves to meet Bron’s parents for lunch.
Thankfully, it’s Bron who saves the day, pulling her phone from the pocket of her jeans. “Babe, we should head out to meetmy folks,” she says, glancing at me with ayou’re welcomelook in her eyes.
Dallas stands off to the side and out of the way as everyone moves, gathering belongings and talking over each other all at once.
“It was so nice to meet you.” Mom stops by Dallas, reaching up and pulling him down to press an unnecessary kiss to his cheek. “Emmy will need to bring you out to the island for a visit.”
To the island, said as if she lives in some luxury paradise. I almost laugh. For the record, she’s referring to Staten Island.
“Yes, ma’am,” Dallas says with a nod, his eyes flitting to mine before he offers my mother his trademark panty-melting smile.
“Yeah,” Dad booms, standing in front of Dallas. “Come on out and we can have a real chat, man-to-man.”
