Page 72 of Mistlefoe
“Fell asleep?” Dad’s eyes bulge.
“Is that how kids are calling it these days?” Mom grumbles, still holding the phone up.
“Que alguien me diga qué pasa,” Grammie says from her end.
Mom starts translating for her, but Dad’s not done with this. He lifts an accusing finger at Conor. “You! Who the hell are you and what are your intentions with my daughter?”
“Um, I’m sorry for greeting you this way but my name is Conor Mahoney and I’m…” He blinks at me. “Whatever Sierra wants me to be?”
I press my lips tight so I don’t laugh, groan, or intone any epithets that could get me in further trouble. Dad shifts hisangry gaze between Conor and I, and I can practically see the gears in his mind churning.
“Her chauffeur?” Dad asks.
My jaw drops.
“Yes.” Conor is nonplussed.
“Organ donor?”
“Hopefully we don’t get to that point but sure.”
I snap my mouth closed and look at Mom, asking for help. But she’s busy translating for Grammie in real time.
“Bank account?” Dad folds his arms.
Conor bobs his head. “I’m not super wealthy, but yeah.”
“But after marriage,” my dad has the nerve to say and I’ve had enough.
“Stop, Dad.” I step in between them, even though they weren’t about to come to blows or anything. “Conor and I literally started going out two days ago. Why are you talking about marriage?”
“Because that’s when couples can have sleepovers,” he says back.
Heat travels up my neck and settles in my face. “Yeah, okay. This was an accident. I—I assure you nothing like that happened.” The slip is because something did happen, just not what Dad fears most. Even then, he probably wouldn’t be glad to imagine his one and only daughter climbing some man’s lap to eat his mouth for breakfast. “Can we please stop this and move on with our lives?”
Dad’s finger travels in the air between Conor and I. “If this happens again, I won’t be this kind.” With that, he turns around and stomps toward the rooms.
Mom starts giggling. “Grammie, tu nieta tiene su primer novio.”
I hide my face behind my hands.
“Hmm.” Conor hums beside me. “I take it we live to see another day?”
“You do, I’ll get killed the second you leave,” I respond, muffled by my hands.
“Then should I stay?”
Sighing, I lift my head. “No, it’s best if you go back home and get a head start on the gifts. I’ll… I’ll join you from the afterlife later.”
“Go.” Mom nods at him. “It’s all good now.”
But I know it isn’t. Conor gives me a sweet hug I’d have loved to linger in, and Mom, Grammie, and I watch him head back out to his truck.
Grammie breaks the silence. “Se ve grande ese muchacho.”
My face steams even more as I explain that he looks big because he was once an elite hockey player, and then the two of them launch into a barrage of questions that truly send me to the next life.
CHAPTER 25
